Page 15 of Coercion

“Would you prefer champagne?” He asks, like he actually cares.

“No.” It’s the first word I’ve said all day. The first word I’ve ever spoken directly to him. It feels like an omen. Like we’re already doomed from the start but then we are, aren’t we? Nothing about this marriage is set for success.

He frowns, clearly confused by my response, and I take the opportunity to knock the entire glass back before spluttering once more. I’d rather have something strong. I’d rather numb my senses with something I know will not only kick in fast, but will last.

He swears under his breath, taking the weighty crystal glass from my hand and then shots back his own, though I suppose he can handle it better than me because he doesn’t choke. He just swallows it like it’s water.

He walks back over to the bar, setting the glasses down with his back to me.

I can feel the tension between us. I can feel every single one of those glances he’s been giving me when he thought I wouldn’t notice.

So I don’t fight it.

It’s easier not to.

Far easier.

It’s a lesson I learnt long ago and one far too painful to repeat. My body seems to give up as I silently make my way past the couches, past the balcony with the enviable view, and into the room beyond.

The bed is massive. It’s strewn with rose petals. My breath catches as I take it in because this would be any other girl’s dream. A wedding night spent here, in the very heights of luxury.

His footsteps give him away as he walks up behind me. When he places his hands on my shoulders I physically jump, though mercifully I bite back the strangled cry before it can truly form.

“Ssssh.” He soothes me quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you or do anything you don’t want.”

I don’t reply. It’s already been made perfectly clear by Gunnar what he expects of me. What my duties are. This marriage has to be consummated. Add the fact they bugged the place and I know my actions will be scrutinised, that everything we do will be checked and if I don’t act the way I’m supposed to, Gunnar will certainly make me pay.

Besides, I’m under no illusions what my new husband is capable of if push came to shove. He’s literally the same mould as all of them, as Levi, Gunnar, Nico Morelli too. Different name, same predatory behaviour.

Slowly, he begins to slide the clips out of my hair. It tumbles down my back but, I’ll admit, it feels good to no longer have the metal pressing against my scalp.

The only sound beyond my rapidly increasing breath is the little tapping noise the clips make as he tosses each one onto the carpet.

When it’s all free, he sweeps it to one side, lowering his mouth to my exposed neck. I gulp, waiting for the inevitable feel of his lips on my skin.

“We need to put on a show.” He says quietly, right into my ear, like he thinks someoneislistening in.

“What?” I frown.

“The other room was bugged. It’s almost certain there are cameras in here.”

He doesn’t need to tell me that because it’s obvious, isn’t it?

“…I can try to find them but I doubt I’ll get them all.” He continues.

I nod. He’s right. Levi and Gunnar would have had days to prep this. There’s no way we’d be able to find them, even if we spent all night searching.

But why do we need to put a show on? Why does he care what they do and don’t see? I blink as I realise what he means, what he must be thinking.

“I’m not,” My face flushes with more shame, “I’m not a virgin.” I whisper. He’s going to be mad about that. He was probably sold the notion that I was some sort of untouched prize when I’m anything but.

I tense up, waiting for the inevitable fallout of that confession, for the hand in my hair to tighten, for my body to be slammed to the ground before the blows start landing – only, it doesn’t come.

He lets out a low breath that warms the back of my neck in way that’s almost soothing. “It doesn’t matter.” He says. “You’re my wife now. I’m not going to let them see anything. To expose you any more than I have to.”

I turn, forcing myself to face him properly. He sounds so protective right now. He sounds like he might actually help me. His eyes scan my face and, for the first time, I allow myself totrulylook at him too, to bury the fear and truly take in his appearance, without shame, or whatever other twisted emotions have been clouding my vision.

He’s tall. I know I’m above average height for a girl but he still towers over me.