Chapter 6 - Georgie
I wake up early. The room is still dark, and I’m immediately confused by my unfamiliar surroundings. I bolt up in the massive king-sized bed, the blankets falling off me as my eyes dart around the room.
While I try to figure out where I am, my brain taunts me with the remnants of a nightmare. A nightmare that was very real. Being held captive, being drugged and bound…and sold.
I sigh and press both hands over my face. I don’t want to cry again.
I don’t even know if I was crying yesterday because he made me marry him, or if I was crying because I was so relieved to be away from the man who kidnapped me.
The residuals left in my body from the drugs made me emotional and unsteady. My thoughts were wild and messy.
I lie back down in the ridiculously soft blankets and pull them up over my shoulders, turning onto my side and snuggling my face into the pillow. My heart is beating too fast, fear pulsing through me like a river.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper to the dark morning. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here. Here is better.” I close my eyes and take several deep breaths.
When I wake up again, there is bright sunlight spilling into the bedroom, and Kristopher is standing at the side of my bed. I’ve kicked the blankets off in my tossing, turning nightmares, and his eyes graze over my body.
My very exposed body.
Last night, I tossed that horrible ballgown into the corner of the room, and I’m sleeping in my underwear. I yelp in fright, grab the edges of the blankets, and pull them back up over me.
Kristopher clears his throat and sets a tray on the bed.
“I thought you might need some food and a cup of coffee. Those, uh, bruises…are you okay?”
I sit up, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “What time is it?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Half past twelve,” he says.
“Are you serious? I slept all day,” I stammer in disbelief.
“Whatever they gave you…it would take time to leave your system. You needed the rest, Georgie,” he says patiently. “And don’t ignore my question.”
“I’m so used to getting up before the sunrise to get ready for classes,” I stammer. “Classes,” I blurt out in fright. “I have to go to my classes.”
He leans over the bed and gently takes my jaw in his hands, turning my face towards his. “Those bruises…did they do anything…do you need a doctor?” he asks, his voice tight and edged with anger.
“No,” I answer quickly. “Nothing like that. Um. I think the bruises on my body are from when I was fighting back. They mostly just left me alone. It was horrible…but…um…I’m okay.
” I don’t want to talk about it. Which is ironic for a psychiatrist who constantly encourages people to talk about things.
“Are you sure, Georgie?” he steps away from my bedside, releasing a heavy breath. He seems weighted down by me being here. Or maybe just by me?
“I’m sure,” I nod. “I don’t need a doctor. Just a shower. I was so exhausted last night, I just crawled into bed. I feel icky.”
“Well, you have your own private bathroom.” He gestures towards it. “And I’ll have them put fresh bedding on for you while you shower.”
My head is swarming with thoughts of my classes. What am I going to do? I have to get there. I’ve already missed too much.
“My classes…” I say, scrunching my face.
“My assistant contacted the university and made arrangements for you to get access to all of the courses online. I have your laptop here and your books. My men collected them this morning,” he explains.
“And, um, my clothes?” I ask, still clutching the blankets against my chest.
The smile that flashes over his face is darkly delicious and makes my skin burn, tingling with memories of his touch.
He gestures towards a box in the corner of the room.
“There are some jeans and other items in there. But I’ve left my card on your bedside table. I figured it might be easier for you to order whatever you wanted online instead of me trying to choose on your behalf.”
My eyes drift to the bedside table. I reach out and pick up his black credit card. Of course he has a black card.
“There is no limit. Get whatever you want. Anything,” he tells me.
I set the card down again. “I’ll get the essentials.”
He raises his brows at me. “There is no limit. I mean that.”
I smile. “I’ll get what I need, Kristopher,” I say more sternly. “Was there anything else?”
“Eat some food. Your body needs it,” he says, bossy as ever.
Kristopher stands at my bedside for a moment, our eyes locked.
I glare at him, trying to make him go away. I’m so exposed, so raw, so vulnerable to that beautiful stare of his.
“I’ll be downstairs, if you need anything,” he says, finally breaking the tense silence.
I nod.
He steps back and cocks his head to the side. “It’s good to see some color in your cheeks, Georgie. You’re going to feel so much better after food and some fresh clothes.”
His voice is laced with care. It churns my heart, making it flutter like a little bird. Hope. Hope for what? My silly daydream that I’ve had for years? The one where he falls in love with me?
Pfft.
Don’t be ridiculous, Georgie. This is the real world. Not some fairy tale.
Life is full of pain.
Trauma.
Not beautiful, wistful stories with knights in shining armor.
Although…
He turns to walk away, and guilt stabs through me. He’s not the one who did those things to me. Yes, he made me marry him, but it’s far better than if he’d left me to be sold to someone else. I hate what he did to me…but the alternative was worse. I can’t deny that.
“Kris,” I call his name, and instantly he stops, his back to me. I take a deep breath, my throat feeling tight.
“Yes?” he says, turning to face me. His grey eyes are bright, intense.
“Thank you,” I whisper, hardly able to look into his eyes.
The smile that spreads over his face is gorgeous. Warm and beautiful.
“There is no need to thank me, little one,” he says, then turns away and leaves me alone with a plate of breakfast and coffee that smells like heaven.
I sigh loudly and flop back onto the pillows, pulling the blanket right up over my face.
After the shower, dressed in a very stylish pair of jeans that I think cost more than a year’s worth of university fees, I wander downstairs to explore a little and stretch my legs. My body is aching. The bruises are tender, but my muscles are worse.
I’ll be okay in a few days, though.
Nothing broken. I’m still standing. Have to focus on the positives.
I’m carrying my breakfast dishes, so I first head to the kitchen, finding the housekeeper in there cleaning up.
“Good morning…oh…afternoon,” I smile.
“Good afternoon, Miss Georgie,” she says kindly. “Can I get something for you? Oh my goodness, you don’t need to bring your dishes to the kitchen. I will do all that for you.” Her expression is strained.
I giggle. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying some dishes. And I was on my way to the kitchen, anyway. Don’t waste your legs. That’s what they always say.”
The housekeeper smiles, crinkling her face. She looks about mid-fifties, with warm, bright blue eyes.
“I’m Melinda,” she says, tilting her head to the side.
“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I smile, too.
Over the next week, it becomes a little ritual for me to take my tray of empty dishes to the kitchen, and for Melinda to moan at me for trying to steal her job.
She’s lovely. She makes me laugh, and she brings me lavender tea while I sit online doing my classes.
There is one head security guard whom I hardly ever see, and then there is the chef, who happens to be Melina’s husband, Jeremy.
Every night, Kristopher has Melinda come up to my room to tell me dinner is ready and being served in the dining room.
And every night, I make an excuse, saying I have to study still, because I prefer hiding in my room to the idea of sitting at a table with Kristopher while my mind plays tricks on me and my body taunts me with how gorgeous he is.
The fleeting moments when I bump into him in the mansion are enough.
And the mansion…it’s ridiculous. It’s massive. It’s practically a castle, and so luxurious I feel like I’m on the set of a movie, like it can’t possibly be real.
It’s past nine and dark outside my bedroom window when I close my textbook and push it away from me across the bed. I glance at my watch, and when I realize the time, my grumbling stomach makes more sense.
Sliding off the side of the bed, I stretch my body, rolling my shoulders, then tiptoe out into the hall, glancing up and down to make sure the coast is clear.
This is another ritual.
I sneak downstairs after everyone has retired for the night, find the plate of food Jeremey has left for me and eat quietly, alone and in peace.
I tug the fridge open and smile. Yesterday, he asked me what my favorite food was, and I said a good old-fashioned burger. And that’s exactly what he’s made me.
On the side of the plate is a little note.
Heat the air fryer so the roll stays crispy.
I pull the plate from the fridge and follow his instructions.
Then I lean against the kitchen counter and take big bites of the best burger I’ve ever had.
“What are you doing?” Kristopher’s voice makes me jump and almost choke as I swallow what’s in my mouth.
“I’m eating dinner,” I huff, covering my mouth with my hand.
“In here? Surrounded by dirty dishes, in a kitchen that hasn’t been cleaned yet?” He sounds so angry.
I knit my brows. “It’s really not that bad. It’s just from tonight’s dinner,” I shrug, looking around.
“You’re not even sitting at the kitchen table. You’re standing and eating.”
I shake my head. “So?” I say defensively.
“Georgie, there is a massive dining room table, and that is where you will be eating dinner from now on. Not in here,” he demands.
“I don’t see how this affects you.”
“You are my wife,” he snaps.
“I’m not really your…”
“Yes, you are. And you will have to start learning to act like it. You need to adjust to my lifestyle and be a proper Bratva wife, not someone who hides in a filthy kitchen and eats alone.”
“Excuse me? I don’t think you have the right to say when, where, or how I eat my dinner. And as far as being your wife goes, we both know that’s just a piece of paper.”
“It most certainly is not just a piece of paper. That is a binding contract that you signed. You are married to me, Georgie. There are standards to uphold. I expect certain things from you.”
“Oh, you expect.” I burst out laughing. “What else do you expect from your wife, Kristopher?” I shoot the alarming question at him before I have a chance to think about what I’m asking.
His eyes flare, his lips part.
I gasp in shock as my body spikes with heat, thinking about his massive, muscular form against me, pressing me into the wall, his lips on mine.
He steps closer to me, and I can’t tell if he’s amused by my question or my reaction to it. It feels as though he can read my thoughts, and that makes my cheeks turn pink.
I stammer something incomprehensible as I take a step back and find myself trapped against the counter.
“Georgie,” he says, lifting his hand.
My phone rings in my back pocket, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s Jess,” I say quickly, answering before he can stop me.
“Hi, Jess,” I say happily, my voice shaking ever so slightly.
“What happened? Where are you now? My brother messaged me to tell me you were taken, but he got you somewhere safe. Oh my word, Georgie, are you okay?” she blurts out a string of questions.
I wave Kristopher away, silently asking for privacy, but he folds his arms across his chest and watches me with a glint in his eyes.
He has no intention of going anywhere. I scrunch my nose at him, making my disapproval blatant. It doesn’t work. He stays there, listening.
“I’m sorry, I kept meaning to call you. I’ve been thinking about you the whole time. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m, uh, staying in your brother’s mansion.” I laugh nervously. How much did he tell her?
I can’t stop watching him. It’s distracting.
Does she know I married her brother? I got kidnapped, he purchased me at some crazy party in the middle of nowhere, and now I’m married to him. Hey, sister-in-law…we’re officially family now. Actually, that part would go down pretty well, I think. She and I are like family already.
I smirk, amused by my own thoughts, and Kristopher’s gaze becomes more intense.
“Oh my word. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me you were staying with him. That makes me so happy. At least I know you’ll be safe. I need to have a word with him,” Jess says, speaking fast.
“He’s being a very good host,” I say, my eyes burning into him as he smiles at me.
“Oh, good. I was going to chew him out because he never updates me properly. Anyways, it doesn’t matter now, because I can talk to you instead. Are you okay, though? It must have been scary,” she says with care.
“Well, I’m okay. There’s no need to yell at your brother. Sorry, I didn’t call you right away. I’m really fine. I’m even back at university, classes have been crazy.” Now isn’t the time to share with her how terrified I was when those men had me.
“As long as you’re okay. That’s all that matters. I thought…uh. It doesn’t matter. I’m just so relieved to hear your voice.”
Jess and I chat for a moment, but it’s difficult to concentrate with Kristopher hovering so close to me. I can smell his cologne. And the way he has his arms folded is making his impossibly big muscles bulge even more.
“Babe, I’ve got to run. We can talk properly soon, I promise.”
“Alright, yes, go on. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I slide my phone back into my pocket, and he cocks his head to the side. “Sweet,” he murmurs, smiling.
“Oh, shush,” I huff.
“So, about dinner, at the dinner table…” he raises his brows at me. My heart is stuttering and flailing in my chest. I need to get away from him and how good he smells.
“Fine. Tomorrow night. I’ll be at dinner.” I roll my eyes dramatically. “Like a good little Bratva wife,” I add with sarcasm.
He smirks, but then thankfully nods in approval and leaves me alone in the kitchen to finish my burger.