Rowan
Exiting the large glass door of the slate tile shower, I wrap a thick, black, plush towel around myself, the material soft against my wet skin. Who knew even a towel could make you feel poor? I step out of the bathroom and into the large bedroom when I’m met with a designer in full swing, studying patterns and comparing fabrics. She looks to be in her early forties', blonde with a tight, low bun and a sleek, black pantsuit.
She turns and notices me standing by the bathroom door. “Hi! It’s lovely to meet you, . I’m Deirdra.”
I wave at her silently as she strides toward me. “I don’t even need to get measurements, you’re almost the size of the mannequin.” She laughs. “Why don’t you let me show you around instead. ”
I honestly feel relieved at her offer. Getting to know the house– or mansion I should say– will give me a better idea of how to escape, or at least find things to do to pass the time.
“That would be great, actually.” I say with a smile.
“Come on, let’s start with the upstairs.” She returns a smile.
As we move from room to room, Deirdra chats about the design choices and the work that went into decorating the mansion. I nod and try to hold the conversation with her, given the fact that I love design work. But my mind is elsewhere. I can’t help but to think about how I’ll escape this nightmare. If I even can or when. Everything is just a blur right now.
“You’re handling this remarkably well,” Deirdra says suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I give her a sideways glance. “What do you mean?”
“Being thrust into a new life, new home. It’s a lot.”
I shrug. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I? ”
She stops and looks at me, her eyes softening. “No, but you shouldn’t have to go through it alone. If you ever need someone to talk to or to help navigate all of this, I’m here.”
The sincerity in her voice catches me off guard. For a moment I consider talking about this thing with Grayson, but then I remember where I am and who I’m dealing with. Trusting anyone in this house would just be pure desperation coming from a place of having no friends or family.
“Thanks,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
We finish the tour, ending with the library. It’s a massive room big enough to be its own building. It has large windows, flooding the entire place with sunlight. In the back corner there is a large chaise lounge draped with a white fur throw blanket with a mahogany end table sitting next to it. Above sits a hanging potted fern. The corner looks cozy, but feminine for it being a mob boss’s home.
Deirdra hesitates at the entrance of the library. “I know this isn’t easy. But give it time. You might find things aren’t as bad as they seem. You might even like it here.”
I force a smile. “I appreciate it, Deirdra. But I have a hard time believing that will ever happen. ”
She half nods. “I disagree. He had an entire library built just because he discovered you like to read. Imagine what he’d do if you tried to enjoy being here.”
I turn to face her. “He built this for me?”
“You know, once upon a time this family saved me,” she says, ignoring my question. ”They’re good people. Give them a chance.”
She walks out, leaving me to explore the beautiful rows of brand new books. To make it even better, the books were separated by genre rather than alphabetically. I could literally live in this room. Even the bookshelves are gorgeous. They’re carved oak that still hold an earthy, forest-like scent. As much as I hate to admit it, I feel a sense of excitement. I could be struggling to pay my bills right now and working my ass off to make ends meet but instead I’m being given a new life. Deirdra’s kindness is a comfort to the uncomfortable situation too. The only thing I can’t shake is the fact that I’m forced to live with a man. My whole existence since I left my father has been making sure I never have to depend on anyone, and now I don’t even have a choice.
“I see you’ve found your favorite room.” I hear a familiar deep voice call out behind me .
“It’s beautiful.” I admit as I scan my eyes across the bookshelves.
“It’s all yours.” He says, stepping closer.
“Actually it’s not. It’s in your house.” I clip. I don’t want to come off too excited about the library, otherwise he’ll see it as compliance.
“You signed a prenuptial agreement, .”
I scoff. “Right, so now when you decide to let me leave I can’t even take anything. Good job protecting yourself.”
He lets out a dry laugh. “You do know prenups aren’t just for the person with money? The agreement states that if we ever get a divorce, you take everything you’ve acquired during the marriage and I have to provide you with money to buy a house and pay you a hundred thousand for every year you didn’t have an income while being married. Does that sound like I’ve only protected myself?”
I don’t really know what to say. “Why did you do that? ”
He sighs and takes another step toward me. “So that I could earn just a little bit of your trust. So that you know I’m not doing this solely out of selfishness.”
“So then why are you doing this?” I snap, facing him.
He closes the space between us, pressing my back to one of the bookshelves and I feel heat pooling between my legs. I really wish my body didn’t respond like this to his touch. “I already told you. Now, you need to get used to being here.”
I glare up at him, refusing to let him intimidate me. “I will never get used to you. Understand that, fuckwad .”
His hand comes up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. The touch is gentle but his eyes are hardened, sending a shiver down my spine. “Foul language for such a pretty mouth, . Don’t let it get you in trouble.”
I try to push his chest but he grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. “Let me go!” I hiss.
“Not until you listen,” he says, his face just inches from mine. “You think you can fight this, you can’t. You’re my property, . The sooner you understand, the better. ”
My heart pounds in my chest, fear and anger mixing a volatile cocktail. “I hate you,” I whisper, the words filled with venom.
A dark smile curves his lips. “Hate me all you want. It won’t change anything.”
His free hand trails down my arm, sending a jolt of unwanted electricity through me. “Your resistance, your short temper– it’s a turn on. But it will be your undoing if you don’t learn to control it.”
He releases me suddenly, and I stumble forward, catching myself on the bookshelf. He steps back, giving me space, but the darkness in his eyes doesn’t lessen.
“You will learn to like it here,” he says firmly. “And you will follow my rules. Because if you don’t, things can get much worse.”
He turns and leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him. I sink to the floor, my heart still racing. The reality of the situation comes crashing down on me once again. This is my life now and Grayson’s right– there’s no fighting it.