The Road seemed vast and empty, even my life seemed to be that way. For several miles, the silence seeped in–staining my skin too.
He pulled into the main entrance, and it seemed his staff were prepared for arrivals. Expressions blank, hands covered by gloves–white, eyes glossy. Not one of them looked at me.
His voice, sudden, pulled me back into reality. The weight of what happened crashed against my lungs–as though a Tsunami had hit. "Get out."
The words–sharp and jarring left me to wonder what his true intentions were. I didn't move. No, I won't obey him.
I glared at him hard. "Drag me in there if you have to, but I am not your toy to order around," I spat out, clutching the edge of my wedding gown.
Leaning in, his smirk widened, and then, "You have two choices, Sierra. Either you walk in there on your feet, or I'll forcefully drag you in. And I think you would wanna choose option one."
His perfume–dark and strong–brought on a fear, an underlying one. Something I'd rather have it be buried and not dug up. Instead of dragging inside, he did something far worse or horrible–letting me sit there, watching him walk away.
The silence he left me in started to bear down on me–my own thoughts being my own worst enemy. He was toying with me. That much seemed clear.
**
My own footsteps and some other distant ones were the only things echoing here, as I followed him in after several minutes. Finding him was definitely going to take me a few more hours. This place is enormous.
And when I did find him, he smirked while adjusting his suit cuff–a gentleman in a wolf's clothing. "Don't take it off just yet. I have something to do before I make you mine," he said, looking up at me.
His smile only widened. Nodding to the door of a room I have no idea will be where I'll live for the rest of my life, he adds, "Here is your room... well, my room.... If you and I are gonna live as Wife and Husband.... You need training."
"Fine, but.... soon you and I will have a divorce," I say, trying my best not to let my voice quiver. Fear is not an option. And I will not back down in this fight like a coward.
Maybe I was a coward. Or maybe I could do better.
The hours were agony. And the dress, my wedding dress, started to squeeze me, trying to get the juices out.
In fact, the door was locked, and I had no way out of here. He's using his tactics–whatever they may be. If he can hate me more, that would be great. I'm going to be a wife he loathes so much that he would wish that I were dead to him.
A smile stretched across my make-up-caked face, and I had my arms crossed over my medium-sized breasts. The plan was coming together–like all the pieces of the puzzle.
Before he came back, I ripped the end of the lace dress–it was made from silk, imported illegally from China–and made a mess of my face. The make-up kind of came off, although only slightly.
I wouldn't have had a camera installed. Never did that thought cross my mind.
Nikolai kept messaging me his details while being at the docks, I assume, since most of it was play-by-play, and the other was threats. All of them were directed towards me.
I was not amused. He would be back anytime now, and when he is, well, I'll make sure he kicks me to the curb. A picture frame–gold embellishing around the edges taunts me. Tempted, I walked up to smash it.
The shards broke loose–some of it spraying a bit farther than I realised.
Well, at least my anger–shimmering and bubbling under my skin–fizzled out. And that happened too soon. I sat there for the rest of however long before a deep, unsettling laugh made me look up.
My gaze landed on him–something dark passing over me. He's doing all this on purpose, it seemed.
The frigid air seeped back into me, cooling me now. I will not forget this, even if I leave him. Not at all.
He can rot in hell for all I care. "I hope you're ready to perform in the bedroom after this union, wife."