Chapter 20
The water cascaded over my body, warm and soothing against my skin, washing away the remnants of salt and sun from the day. I stood under the stream, letting it work its magic, my mind drifting as the droplets danced over my shoulders and down my back.
It had been a beautiful day, surprisingly so.
Colson had been... different. Attentive, even tender in a way I hadn’t expected.
The yacht, the brunch, the easy conversation—it was all so unlike him.
He had smiled more, laughed even, and for a few fleeting hours, I had almost forgotten the tension that usually simmered between us. Almost.
But now, back at the estate, reality seeped in.
The day had been a pleasant distraction, but I couldn’t ignore the looming shadow of the next two weeks.
My wedding day was rushing towards me like a freight train, unstoppable and inevitable.
I could feel it in every fiber of my being, the weight of it pressing down on me as I stood in the shower, the water pouring over me in a steady stream.
I closed my eyes, letting the warmth seep into my pores, trying to find some semblance of peace.
But my thoughts were relentless, racing ahead to everything that needed to be done.
The final dress fitting was scheduled for Tuesday.
Evelina would be there, making sure every detail was perfect, every seam in place.
She had been a rock for me throughout this process, but even her unwavering support couldn’t ease the anxiety that curled in my stomach.
Then there was the seating chart. Colson and I still needed to finalize it, though the task felt more like a formality than anything else.
The guest list was already set—500 people, most of whom I had never met.
Business associates, family members on the Ashworth side, names that held no meaning for me.
My own side would be pitifully small, just my immediate family. I had no friends to speak of, no extended family to fill the empty seats. It was Colson’s wedding, really. I was just the bride.
I reached for the shampoo, the scent of lavender filling the air as I worked it into my hair. The mundane action helped to ground me, to keep the rising tide of panic at bay. I couldn’t afford to break down, not now. Not with everything that was expected of me.
Colson was downstairs, working out in the gym.
I could almost hear the rhythmic thud of his punches against the heavy bag, the grunts of exertion as he pushed his body to its limits.
It was his way of unwinding, of channeling whatever emotions roiled beneath his calm exterior.
But for me, there was no release, no outlet.
Just the ever-present knowledge that in two weeks, I would be his wife.
His wife. The thought made my chest tighten, a mix of dread and resignation.
What would that even look like? I had glimpsed different sides of Colson, but which one would I be married to?
The domineering businessman who commanded the room with a single glance?
Or the man who had tenderly held my hand on the yacht, who had made me feel, for a brief moment, like I was more than just a pawn in his game?
I rinsed the shampoo from my hair, the water running clear as it swirled down the drain. The decision had been made long ago, the die cast as Colson had said. There was no turning back now. I would walk down that aisle, I would say my vows, and I would be bound to him in every way that mattered.
But as I stood there, a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder—was there still a way out? Or was I truly trapped, destined to play the role of Mrs. Colson Ashworth until the day I died?
I turned off the shower, the sudden silence almost deafening. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it around myself, the plush fabric a small comfort against the chill that had settled deep in my bones.
The next two weeks would be busy, filled with preparations and final touches. But beyond that, beyond the wedding day itself, lay a future that was terrifyingly uncertain. And no amount of warm showers or beautiful days on the yacht could change that.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, the house was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the air conditioning. I had a few moments to myself before Colson would come back upstairs, and I needed to use them wisely. There was no time for doubt, no space for second thoughts.
I moved to the mirror, wiping away the steam that had collected on the glass.
My reflection stared back at me, eyes wide and uncertain.
But I couldn’t afford to be that girl anymore.
I had to be strong, to be the woman Colson needed me to be.
Because in two weeks, whether I liked it or not, I would be his wife.
And that was a role I would have to play to perfection.
With a deep breath, I forced myself to smile, to practice the mask I would wear on my wedding day. The mask of a woman who had chosen this life, who was ready to embrace it with open arms.
I ran the towel through my hair, each stroke growing slower as exhaustion settled over me like a heavy blanket.
The day had been long, draining in ways I hadn’t anticipated, and all I wanted now was the comfort of bed.
I slipped on Colson’s dress shirt, letting it hang loose around me, the smooth fabric brushing against my skin.
The scent of him clung to it, a mix of his citrusy cologne and something deeper, something that always made my pulse quicken.
Easton wasn’t home—he’d gone off to the Hamptons, escaping whatever demons haunted him.
The house felt emptier without him, but maybe that was a good thing.
No cries in the night, no tortured whispers seeping through the walls.
I hadn’t seen Simone since our tense encounter by the pool, and Vaughn had been keeping his distance too.
It was as if the whole house had taken a collective breath and was holding it, waiting for something to happen.
I climbed into bed, the fresh sheets cool against my skin.
The maid had changed them; the crispness was a reminder that this life, with its luxuries and conveniences, was still foreign to me.
For years, I’d done everything myself—cooking, cleaning, caring for my family as they worked long hours.
It had been hard, but I hadn’t minded. It kept me grounded, kept me focused on something other than the aching void where my dreams used to be.
But now, as I let myself sink into the mattress, I realized how far away that life felt. This bed, these sheets, this house—they were mine now, but they didn’t feel like it. Not yet, maybe not ever.
Sleep came quickly, pulling me under with a heaviness I couldn’t fight. I drifted, peaceful for once, until I felt the bed shift and warm arms wrapped around me. My eyes fluttered open, my heart pounding in the sudden stillness.
"Colson?" I whispered, my voice betraying the surprise I felt.
He chuckled softly. "Were you expecting someone else?" His tone was casual, almost too casual, like he was testing the waters.
I swallowed, forcing myself to relax into his embrace. "No, of course not."
It was true—I wasn’t expecting anyone. Colson didn’t usually come to my room at night, didn’t make a habit of invading this one last sanctuary I had. But tonight was different. I could feel it in the way his hands moved over me, possessive and sure.
He smelled clean, fresh from a shower, the scent of citrus and spice wrapping around me, drawing me in.
I leaned into him, pressing my nose against his skin, but before I could lose myself in that comforting scent, he captured my mouth in a kiss.
It was demanding, insistent, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I parted them for him.
He tasted like mint and something else, something that sent a shiver down my spine.
"I enjoyed today," he murmured against my lips, his hand slipping inside the open shirt, fingers finding my breast with a familiarity that made my breath hitch.
He kneaded gently, his thumb brushing over my nipple, sending sparks of sensation shooting through me.
"I thought we should get used to sleeping in the same bed. "
I stiffened at his words, the implications clear.
This wasn’t about comfort or closeness—it was about power.
It always was with Colson. The day had been a calculated effort, a way to soften me, to get me to lower my guard.
And now, here he was, pushing further, testing the boundaries of what I would allow before our wedding day.
"Thank you for taking me," I said, my voice steady even as my mind raced. I had to be careful, had to navigate this moment without giving too much away. He was playing a game, and I was the prize, but I couldn’t let him win so easily.
His hand tightened on my breast, a silent acknowledgment of the line I was drawing. He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "You’re welcome. But remember, Joey, the sooner you let go, the easier this will be."
I didn’t respond, couldn’t trust myself to say the right thing. Instead, I stayed still, letting him explore, all the while reminding myself that this was just another step in the dance we were both performing. But inside, a part of me recoiled, fighting against the inevitability of it all.
Colson pressed one last kiss to my lips before pulling away, his hand slipping out from under the shirt. "Goodnight, Joey," he said, his voice a mixture of satisfaction and danger.
"Goodnight, Colson," I replied, watching as he stood and left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the lingering sensation of his touch on my skin.
As the door clicked shut, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. This was my life now, my reality. And I had to be ready for whatever came next, no matter how much it terrified me.