Page 13

Chapter Twelve

MERRICK

A knock on the door causes my spine to straighten. Colette moves toward the door, but she doesn’t open it. She stays still and then asks who it is on the other side. Plastering myself to the wall, I hope to fuck that Adriano doesn’t look around the room.

“It’s your father. I’m being kind by knocking,” he snaps.

Colette’s shoulders slump as she unlocks and opens the door. I watch as she takes a step backward, her entire body changing the moment she hears his voice. I fucking hate that shit.

Adriano walks through the door but luckily turns his back to me to focus on Colette. “Pack your bags. You leave in the afternoon.”

“Leave?” she asks.

“Leave,” Adriano snaps before he walks directly back out of the room.

Colette stands still, the door still wide open. I watch as something shifts inside of her. Her shoulders slump as she reaches out and quietly closes the door before she walks over to the closet and bends down. I watch as she takes out a suitcase. She carries it over to the bed and slams it down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl as I move away from the shadows.

“Packing like my father said.”

Closing the distance between us, I don’t stop until I’m behind her. I slide one of my arms around the front of her robe and untie the belt. It falls open, and she freezes. Touching my lips to the side of her neck, I suck on the delicate skin there as I slide my hand up the center of her chest, my fingers curling around one of her breasts.

Her body doesn’t melt against mine as it did just a few moments ago. She is deflated. Almost as if she’s completely given up on everything. If she had any hope when I came into this bedroom, it’s gone now.

“Colette,” I rasp against her neck. “Tell me what is going through your head.”

She slowly turns in my arms, tilting her head back slightly. She looks up into my eyes, but I can tell she’s hiding herself from me. Cupping her cheek, I slide my thumb across her bottom lip.

“I’m packing my bag. When my father tells me to do something, I do it.”

“No questions asked?”

She shakes her head once. “You don’t ask Adriano Bellucci questions. He gives you an order, and you do it. No questions asked.”

My lips twitch into a smirk, but I don’t feel like this is funny at all. Instead, I am convinced this can’t be fucking real. This man truly believes that he has power over everything and everyone in the world. I almost let him do that shit to me, too. Un-fucking-believable. I hate myself for it instantly.

What a goddamn pussy I am.

“Or what, Colette?” I ask, choosing my words wisely.

I know that if I come on too strong, I’ll scare her. She is behaving like a scared animal, and I know it has less to do with me and more to do with that piece of shit that just walked in here and acted like he was in charge of the goddamn world.

“I try not to find out,” she whispers.

Sliding my hands around the back of her neck, I curl my fingers, probably harder than I should, and give her a single shake. Her eyes slowly lift to meet mine, and I swear to fuck, she appears haunted.

“Colette,” I snap.

She lets out a heavy sigh, her gaze sliding away from mine and to the side. She doesn’t want to answer me. If I were her, I might not either, especially to someone like me. I’m ready to burn this whole fucking house down.

And even after this is done, I still might, because fuck Adriano Bellucci.

Fuck him right in the goddamn ass.

“Does he hurt you?” I demand.

She shakes her head. “He doesn’t, but only because I don’t defy him.”

I press my lips together and shake my head. I am trying hard as fuck not to throw her out the window myself and then fireman-carry her back to the hotel. In fact, I still might do it anyway, just because I can and because I know she’ll be safe with me.

“Baby, I’m trying really hard not to storm through this house and start throwing shit all over the place.”

Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I run my teeth back and forth a few times as I wait for her response. I’m about to completely lose my fucking shit on this whole situation if she doesn’t start talking soon… and fast.

“It doesn’t matter, Merrick. My father has made this deal. I’m living in my father’s home. I follow his rules, or I face his punishments.”

I grip the back of her neck even tighter. I know my fingers are grasping her too firmly, but I don’t care. I need her to be right here with me and not lost somewhere inside of her head.

“Does. He. Hurt. You?” I demand.

She slides her tongue across her bottom lip, and I want that. I want to suck that lip into my mouth, bite it—taste it. But more importantly, I want to know if this motherfucker has been hurting my wife.

“Not if I follow his demands.”

There it is. I know the truth of it now, at least as much as I can at the moment. Colette looks terrified. I know the expression because I have worn it myself. I’ve seen my reflection in the mirror a million times over the years.

But I also know that I can’t take her with me right now. “Are you okay to be here alone?”

Her already deflated demeanor shrinks even more. She thinks I’m leaving her for good. Maybe I should, but she’s my wife. That sadness she wears speaks to me. It consumes me the same way her smile does.

I cannot just leave her to be consumed by the predators.

It’s me who should be protecting her from all of them.

Every single fucking one.

COLETTE

Merrick leaves me alone in my packing, and I’m filled with sadness, knowing that I’ll never see him again. Husband or not, our relationship is over, and our status as husband and wife will cease to exist soon.

I don’t know what’s inside of his head, but it’s not me, and that fact tells me everything I need to know. He wanted one last time, and now he’s going to move on, just like I’m being forced to do.

I should give him credit, though. He asked me to come with him, and that should feel beautiful. Right before he left, he kissed me, but the faraway look in his eyes was enough to make any woman second-guess every part of her.

Tying my robe’s belt tightly, I knot it before I continue going about my business. I gather everything I love, leaving the things that Marina or someone else picked out for me in the closet.

I’m sure it’s the wrong move, but I don’t really care. I never want to see them again. I also hope I can burn the wedding dress after I peel it from my body, too. It’s not for me, it’s not me, just like the man I’m going to vow my life to, and I don’t ever want to see it again. I can’t burn the man, so I might as well get to burn the dress.

Once I’m finished, I glance over to the window. It’s still open from Merrick slipping out earlier. Walking over to it, I look around outside, trying to find him somewhere, anywhere.

He’s not there.

He’s not anywhere .

Reaching up, I curl my fingers around the edge of the bottom of the window and tug it down before locking it into place. I won’t be here long enough for him to come back here anyway.

Turning my back to the now-locked window, I walk over to my bag and zip it up before wrapping my fingers around the handle and dragging it to the floor.

I wheel it next to my door, then root around on the floor of my closet to find the small bag so I can pack up my toiletries. I don’t know if I’ll even have a shower to wash my hair in wherever I end up. I imagine being locked inside a basement or something only to be taken out when needed.

It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case. I’ve been given zero information on what’s going to happen to me.

The unknown.

The way it consumes my entire body…

It’s terrifying.

So, doing the only thing I can think of right now. I twist the knob on the shower and turn it all the way over to hot— scalding . I’m going to take a long, hot shower, wash my hair, and perhaps try to feel somewhat normal for a moment or two.

Though I doubt that’s possible.

I’ll never feel normal again.

Not a single part of me.

I’m the daughter of Adriano Bellucci. Normal does not exist for me. I’ve never been to school, never even gone to the movie theater. I’ve never ordered myself a Starbucks, just to name a few.

I’ve watched other people do those things on social media through my fake accounts, but I’ve never actually done them myself. I’ve lived vicariously through the whole world from high above in my tower.

After my hair is washed and my shower is finished, I crawl into bed again. Lying on my back, I stare at the ceiling. I’m not quite sure how long I lie there before there is a loud knock on my door.

I don’t even have to ask who is on the other side. I can tell by the knock that it’s Marcello. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I force myself to sit up and then to stand. I feel like I only slept a few hours as I shuffle toward the door and roughly tug it open.

I’m not surprised to find Marcello. That’s who I thought was there as much as I was hoping it could possibly be Merrick because, in a dreamworld, that’s exactly who would be behind this door.

“What does he want now?” I ask.

I make a show of being sleepy, fake yawning and everything. Marcello rolls his eyes to the ceiling, no doubt realizing that I’m over all this shit because he is, too. I keep waiting for the day when he’s going to just throw me out the window, out of a car, something so that he can say I’m dead and gone. That way, he never has to deal with this shit again—or me.

As robotic as possible, he answers me. “You need to get dressed and come downstairs. They are waiting for you.”

I’m filled with an impending doom. My stomach twists, it turns, it flops around, and I wonder why I didn’t jump out of that window and chase after Merrick when I had the chance.