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Chapter Seven

COLETTE

Malcolm Ravet is scary as hell. Although I don’t know why I thought he wouldn’t be. He essentially bought me, I’m sure. At the very least, he traded me for something with my father. My father is scary as hell, too, but there is a darkness that swirls around Ravet, the likes of which I have never experienced before.

Ravet reaches forward, wrapping his fingers around my hand before he lifts it to his lips. When his dry mouth touches the back of my hand, a sensation of dread washes over my skin. I should turn and walk away right now—no, I should run as fast and as far as I possibly can.

However, I would be caught, and I can’t imagine the punishment for running away from the man who is to be my husband in just a few weeks’ time. So, like the true rule follower, the fully controlled woman that I am, I give him a tight smile and follow him and my father into the back seat of the waiting car.

The ride is silent for me, although Malcolm and my father have many things to talk about, all of which I don’t understand, mainly because I’m not listening. I’m not supposed to listen, either. None of this conversation is for me. Instead, I stare out the passenger side window and watch as the city passes me by.

The car stops, and I turn my head to look over. We’re at The Plaza. I know that Marina mentioned The Plaza to me more than once, but I didn’t really pay attention to everything she said. Most of the ideas and plans she had, I smiled and nodded at but retained nothing.

Because it didn’t matter what I said or what my opinions were, she was going to choose what she wanted for herself, this dress included. The car door opens, and I watch as both Malcolm and my father exit.

My father continues walking toward the entrance, but Malcolm stops and holds his hand out for me to take. Slipping my palm in his, I try to hold back my wince as soon as his fingers curl around it.

I don’t want him to touch me. The whole thing makes me feel icky, but I can’t pull away, either. This man is going to be my husband, and I’m going to have to get used to his touch, even if I have to force myself to.

Sliding to the side, I place my high heels on the sidewalk, gripping Malcolm’s hand as he helps tug me to my feet. He appears smooth, but his grasp is hard, and the way he attempts to maneuver me is rough.

I can only imagine what sex with him will be like.

No doubt, it will be one-sided, selfish, and likely painful. It won’t be anything like it was with Merrick. That part of my life is completely over now. There are no more fantasies and soft kisses.

He slips his arm around my waist and roughly pulls me against his side as if solidifying my thoughts. Trying to keep my smile in place, I walk beside him and wish I were anywhere else in the world.

We move as one unit, although it’s mostly him dragging me alongside his body because I’m afraid to move too quickly or too slowly. I don’t know anything about him, but I can feel enough of his energy to know that one toe out of place would cause some serious backlash.

Marina greets us almost immediately. She’s wearing a dress much like mine, just in a different color. This solidifies my theory that she wanted this whole thing to be hers, and she’s planning it for herself, probably with the idea of my father being the groom in her mind.

Ick and gross. If she knew what he was like, she would not be so starry-eyed over him. “The guests have all arrived and are waiting for you,” Marina sings.

Malcolm says nothing, and I give her a tight smile as my response. We walk through the hotel and then stop at the closed door. I can hear music playing in the room along with the chatter of people’s conversations.

Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath, holding it for a moment before I release it. Then I plaster on the fakest and biggest smile I can and watch as the door opens. The crowd immediately turns to look at us, a sea of unrecognizable faces, and we are introduced like we’re royalty or something.

I don’t understand what is happening and why this is such a big deal. My stomach twists as everyone stares at us. The music fades into the background and my whole body trembles.

One foot after the other, and then another.

I count as we walk—one, two, three.

Until we stop at the very front of the room, where, together, we turn to face the audience. They are watching us, their eyes wide and their smiles bright. When the room erupts in applause, I don’t understand what’s happening.

Why are they clapping?

I try to look above their heads at the ornate wooden carved bar and walls. I try to take in the stunning lighting and decor. It’s beautiful. The doors to the room close, and some music begins. I don’t understand what’s happening. But the music isn’t the same as when we walked in. It somehow shifts to something almost sinister sounding.

Malcolm releases my waist, reaches for my hand, and roughly tugs me behind him as he walks toward the side of the stage. I gasp as he marches up the stairs, not even giving me a chance to stabilize myself in these too-high heels.

He only stops when we’re in the middle of the stage. The music slowly dies down, and he releases my hand as he moves toward the microphone stand. I blink, my smile dying slightly as he begins to speak.

“Now that we’re all here and alone, I want to thank you for coming to such a momentous occasion.”

I try to find my smile again, but I can’t plaster it on quite like I did when I walked into this room. Something has shifted. I don’t know if it’s this man beside me or the way that everyone’s gazes have almost turned hungry as they stare up at us.

“The bidding will begin at one hundred thousand dollars.”

I blink, confusion no doubt etched on my face as the people in front of me begin to salivate. They throw their hands up as Ravet raises the price. Then he walks closer to me and laughs, the sound sliding down my spine.

“A chance to fuck my wife on my wedding night. It’s an opportunity that will never come around again.”

My gaze finds my father’s and connects to his. I don’t know what I expect to see when I look into his face, but it isn’t a smirk on his lips. He notices my attention on him and jerks his chin in my direction as if he told me so.

The rest of the chatter in the room becomes white noise as I realize that nobody is going to protect me. Nobody is going to save me. The depths of my father’s cruelty know no bounds. He’s known this was coming and has done nothing to stop it. In fact, I think he likes it based on the way his eyes dance in delight.

That thought makes my whole body instantly ache.

MERRICK

As the days continue to pass, I realize that it’s been several months since I signed those annulment papers. It should be finalized soon, and then she’ll be married to whatever asshole snatched her up.

The thought of that pisses me off more than I realized it would when I actually put ink to paper. When I walk into Boden’s office, I don’t even bother knocking. My adrenaline is at an all-time high. I am ready to start demanding some goddamn answers.

“Yes?” Boden asks as I stomp into the room and slam the door closed behind me. I ignore the few picture frames on the wall that shake when I do. He leans back in his chair, his eyes on mine, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s wearing a fucking smirk on his lips.

“What the fuck have you found out?” I demand.

He doesn’t laugh, although I wouldn’t laugh if I were him, either, especially with the way I’m feeling. I could take out some serious self-anger on Boden right now. On anyone, really. I’m ready to end some shit right now.

“Have a seat,” he offers as he lifts his hand and extends his index finger toward the chair beside me.

Reluctantly, I sit down in the chair across from his desk. My eyes flick down to his desk, and I take in the flat surface… or what would be a flat surface if the fucker cleaned it off. He’s got stacks of papers all over the place. I have no idea what they are, and I inwardly wonder how he can get anything done in this fucking mess.

“Do you want to clean it?” Boden asks.

Shifting my attention to him, I jerk my chin. “You need a secretary,” I point out. “How do you get anything done?”

Boden shrugs a shoulder, his eyes flicking down to his desk before they shift back up to meet mine. “I know where everything is.”

“Until you don’t?” I ask.

“Basically,” he says with a laugh.

My anger dissipates immediately, and I find that I’m less agitated than I was when I walked in here, although I’m still anxious to know what the fuck is going on and if I’ve missed my opportunity to get my wife back.

“Her wedding is in three weeks,” he begins as he shuffles around paperwork on his desk. He reaches for a folder and flips it open. His eyes widen, and then his lips curve up into a grin before he flicks his gaze up to meet mine.

“So, good news, you’re not too late.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. I just wanted the information,” I say.

He snorts as if he knows me better than I know myself, which, to be fair, he probably does. “You wanted the information to bring your wife home, don’t fucking lie. You’re dragging your feet, and you need a push,” he states.

Shrugging my shoulder, I arch a brow and stare at him in silence. I refuse to accept or deny his claims, so I stay silent and wait for him to continue. Thankfully, he does. And when he does, I can’t help but wonder how the fuck Colette has stayed completely off the internet. Usually, you can at least find someone’s name, but I haven’t been able to find out a damn thing.

“She didn’t go to high school. She was homeschooled and passed all her tests. She’s smart, Merrick,” he says.

I never doubted that Colette was smart.

I thought she was more intelligent than she ever made out to be. She knew what she was doing at her father’s house. She also knew exactly how to act, what to say, and what not to say to me. She was the most controlled person I’ve ever encountered, more in control of herself than anyone I’ve ever met, even my brothers.

“What else did you find?” I ask.

He presses his lips together before he speaks. “She’s finished high school courses, never went to college. She has no credit cards in her name and no bank account either. Her mother was declared legally dead when she was eight years old.”

“Wait.” I hold my palm up. “Declared legally dead?” I ask.

“When Colette was five years old, she disappeared.”

I can only imagine.

“With Adriano as her husband, I’m sure she just vanished,” I say with a snort.

“Essentially,” he mutters.

“Other than that, there isn’t much about her. Adriano has kept her under lock and key, so it seems. The paperwork for your marriage was filed, and then the annulment, but that’s about it. I couldn’t even find any medical records.”

Interesting. No doubt, Adriano is using off-the-books doctors with all his shit, including whatever Colette needs. That shouldn’t surprise me. It really fucking shouldn’t. That’s just the tip of the shit sandwich that is Adriano Bellucci.

“Maybe I should go with you to New York,” Boden mutters.

Part of me wants to tell him no. The other part wants me to beg him to come along. It’s not that I can’t do this on my own, especially since I’m not sure what this is going to entail, but my pride won’t ask him.

“I’m going with you,” he states. “We leave first thing in the morning.”

I’m not sure what it is, but I feel a sense of relief at his words—at his demand. “Okay,” I agree.

I think I need him to go with me. I need someone at my back. Admitting that, even to myself, makes me feel like a fucking pussy. Leaving Boden’s office with the promise to see him in the morning, I head home.

I need a long night of drinking alone before I embark on whatever the fuck I’m about to embark on.