Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Some secrets are sacred.
The thing about sacred things, though?
They tend to get tarnished at some point.”
Diana
Diana
The drizzle tapping on the rooftop disturbs my sleep, so I roll to the side and snap my eyes open, only to close them again when the sun streaming through the open window blinds me.
Wincing, I cover them with my palm and adjust my vision, shaking my head. It seems that despite the rain, the sun still won the right to brighten everything around us. The dark clouds from last night are nowhere in sight.
Glancing at the bedside clock and realizing it’s ten already, I sit up in bed only to groan when my aching body protests in all the unfamiliar places.
“Oh my God. What in the world?” I mutter, stretching my arms above my head, and that’s when a sizzling flush travels through my veins as the memories from last night sweep through my mind, destined to forever tempt all my resolves.
Orion played my body like his most beloved instrument and awakened the needs that stayed dormant within me, but now I’m not sure I can survive without them.
When a person is starved of basic human touch their whole life… it’s hard to go back to the coldness again once they get it.
Especially after last night, when it seemed like my husband finally stopped being a stranger and opened up to me in ways I didn’t expect, which made me attracted to him even more.
After our first time, he prepared a bath for us, and we spent hours there before he decided to indulge in round two. My cheeks heat at the memory.
He skims his lips up to my shoulder, blanketing my body from behind, and kisses my neck, licking my sensitive skin and sending pleasurable sensations all over me.
My nails cut into the mattress, fisting the sheets.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hands gliding up my sides and squeezing my hips before pressing himself harder into me and earning himself a gasp.
“And mine.” He sucks on my flesh, hard, the sting traveling to my nerve endings, creating fire in the pit of my stomach that only his touch can soothe.
“Whoever dares to take you away from me is a dead man.”
Before I can react to his words, he flips me onto my back, making a space for himself between my thighs. His mouth covers mine, imprisoning us in a searing kiss as he enters me hard.
My phone rings loudly in the otherwise silent space, and covering my flaming cheeks, I take deep breaths and try to focus on anything but the emotions hitting me from every corner.
I could have never imagined a man’s possessiveness could be something my shy self would crave, but it’s addicting to know such a powerful and handsome man is obsessed with me.
Someone no one wanted, even my own father.
Psychologists would have said it’s dangerous to get attached to the first man who shows you attention, as they can easily manipulate you to live a life they want. Except right at this moment, I don’t seem to care.
My phone continues to ring, and I grab it, groaning at the name flashing on the screen.
Speaking of the devil.
And while all I wish to do is avoid speaking with my father, sometimes it’s not an option. “Hello.”
His annoyed and angry voice seethes into my ear. “It’s high time you picked up my calls, Diana!”
I swing my legs to the side, and my toes curl into the cold marble, grounding me in the present, for this conversation already promises to give me a headache.
“I’m not obliged to pick up your phone calls.
” I grab the long, silky robe from the chair and put it on, welcoming the soft cloth against my skin.
When talking to my father, I take comfort in the smallest of things and treat my clothes as armor. “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” he repeats, and his familiar rage freezes me for a second before I remind myself I’m not a little girl anymore, and his wrath won’t have consequences on my life.
Orion will protect my grandma and me from him. He already has, in a way, and this fills my heart with so much warmth I’m afraid it might burst.
Someone might say trusting a man is a foolish thing to do, all things considered, but for the first time in my life, I want to leap and not question every decision.
“You’ve been married for a month, and you owe this family some respect.” My laughter isn’t well-received, because he snaps, “Diana!”
“Respect is earned, and you did nothing to earn mine. I’d appreciate it if you'd stop harassing me. Whatever it is, I’m sure your favorite golden child can handle it for you.”
“Grant needs more time to perfect his creation. A month wasn’t enough.
You need to speak to your husband so he can extend the deadline.
” I blink at this and pull my phone away from my ear, staring at it in shock.
Turns out my father still has the power to surprise me.
Wasn’t my not answering his messages enough of a hint that I won’t cater to his every whim?
“He bought you for a year yet expects us to fix all our problems within a month.”
I bristle at his holier-than-thou tone. “He didn’t buy me, Father.
I entered into this marriage of my own free will.
” No matter how much you twist what happened, that’s the truth, even if my father pushed me into this union.
Ultimately, it was my decision to marry Orion to save my grandmother, and acting like a victim won’t do anyone any favors.
I’m glad Rafael never allowed my father to get his hand on the marriage contract or the prenup.
Otherwise, he could have used it to his own advantage or tried to blackmail Orion.
I mean, I’m not sure my father is so stupid, but desperate times make people act out of character.
“And I won’t speak to him about Grant. It’s not my job to help him. ”
He screams into my ear as I slip into my fluffy slippers and go to the bathroom, gulping when I see my reflection in the mirror.
Countless hickeys mar my neck and shoulders, leaving no doubt about my escapades last night.
“You little ungrateful bitch!” Pressing on the speaker button, I put the phone on the counter and start to wash my face while my father continues his verbal assault.
“You married a Wright and forgot your place. May I remind you…you exist in this world because of my generosity.”
My painful groan reverberates through the space when Grant pushes his arm back and punches me right in the stomach, causing me to bend in two and cough violently as I fall back, landing on my ass.
He laughs, guzzling more beer and pointing at me.
“I hate you. A stupid bastard who ruined my family. My mother died because of you.” He kicks me in the back, making me scream.
I try to crawl to the side to escape his assaults, but it’s useless.
Grant’s much quicker. “You deserve to die, just like your mother. I hate you both. Useless whores.” Kick. Kick. Kick. “Why can’t you just die?”
My head becomes dizzy, and I finally reach the wall, the hurt overtaking my senses and threatening to destroy my soul while Grant rages behind me.
My heart sinks when I hear the familiar leather whoosh, and I wish for the ground to open up, swallowing me whole so I wouldn’t have to face what’s about to come next.
He removes his belt and wraps the leather around his hand so he can hit me with the metallic buckle. I already have several scars on my back from his last fit of rage.
“What will it take for you to die, Diana?” When the first blow comes, the pain is so strong it feels as if thousands of knives stab into me at once. “I lost my mom because of you.”
Hit. Hit. Hit.
I wrap my arms around my knees, doing my best to protect myself from his rage.
Nothing stops him. His blows become harsher, and blood fills my mouth from how hard I bite on my bottom lip.
I’ve learned from a young age that my tears only intensify his anger, and he gets off on them, craving to see me cry harder.
“Stupid bitch,” he snaps, and I yelp when he lifts me in a sitting position by the hair and wraps the leather around my neck, effectively cutting off my oxygen supply.
“I should take matters into my own hands. As Daddy dearest says, ‘If you want to do the job right, do it yourself. Otherwise, people will find a way to screw you over.’” I grip the leather, doing my best to pull it away and allow me to breathe, but I struggle in his grip.
My lungs burn, demanding air. My body grows weaker, and dizziness becomes stronger with each passing second. “Die, you stupid bitch. Die.”
One moment, he’s doing his best to kill me, and the next, I gulp for breath when his grip loosens. I cough, tears filling my eyes. “No, Son. No,” Father whispers, and I turn around to see him hugging Grant to his chest and glaring at me. “She’s not worth it.”
The splash of cold water on my face brings me back to the present, away from the disturbing and still painful memories that no therapy or time seems to heal.
I touch my throat on instinct, checking my pulse, a habit I acquired over the years since my brother loved to play the game of strangle the bitch often, as he called it.
“I don’t know what’s more surprising, Father.
You expecting me to be grateful for not letting your son kill me all those years ago, or you thinking I’ll go out of my way to help him.
In case you failed to notice, I hate his guts.
I won’t do a thing to save the family legacy because I was never part of your family.
A fact you reminded me time and time again. ”
“You little bitch.” I roll my eyes because the words bitch and whore are their favorite when it comes to me, which is hilarious since they are assholes. “Talk to your husband, or you’ll regret it.”
“You can’t threaten me anymore. I’m not a child who depends on you.”