Page 16

Nine

Maddie

Saturday, June Fourteenth. Six in the evening.

I’m in the private dressing room set aside for the bride at Our Lady of Hope. Hope, what a joke. I have no hope left. It feels as though the name of the church is just another nail in my coffin—just one final way for Aidan to mock me.

Erica helped me button up the buttons on the Dior gown, and then I asked to be left alone for a while. She’s out there with the wedding planner, while I lose my mind in here.

And of course Aidan’s goons are right outside the door to make sure the product gets delivered.

My final gown fitting a few weeks ago required some minor alterations.

I haven’t been able to eat much since all this started, and I look practically gaunt now.

It’s only six pounds, but it feels like more.

I was angry at myself for losing the weight, for needing this perfect dress to be altered in any way.

But how does one eat at a time like this?

Stella did a great job on it, but I worried something would go wrong.

I didn’t want a needle and thread to touch this dress.

It’s the one good thing about any of this.

I smooth my hands down the beige and pink silk.

My hair is in loose curls around my face, and I’ve got a good base tan going.

A small gold necklace glitters at my throat.

That’s the only jewelry I’m wearing. No bracelets, no earrings.

The same flowers from my bouquet have been woven into my hair.

I went for a natural look with the makeup, a light flush of color on my cheeks, a neutral shimmery eyeshadow called beach glass, black mascara, and a neutral pink lip gloss. I got a french manicure yesterday.

It’s all so perfect on the surface. If you could just blur out the groom.

How is this happening?

I was grateful when he left me alone after that one night of insanity where I actually pulled back the blankets and let him watch me masturbate like a psycho.

And when I say psycho, I mean me, not him.

Who does that? With someone they hate? I was too in the middle of things to stop it, and my brain wasn’t functioning right.

I never would have done it in my right mind.

He hasn’t texted me once since that night. I kept thinking, hey, maybe he died. Maybe he got arrested. He is a crime boss after all. Maybe he wasn’t above the law like he thought. Wouldn’t that be nice?

But no news of an arrest from the Stryker corporation ever broke.

Then I went down even crazier rabbit holes…

What if the hot guy from the alley did something to him?

I mean there is obviously no way that could happen or would happen, but all my wildly inappropriate romance books are super unbelievable also, and I still like those.

So, hey, maybe I am in The Captive Bride of the Crime Boss and something completely insane happens next.

I’m holding onto the hope of some kind of eleventh hour rescue, anything to save me from a future I can only see as dark and bleak.

I know it’s denial and delusion but these unlikely scenarios and fantasies are my only coping mechanism. Why would he just go radio silent? It doesn’t make any sense.

My mind keeps spinning about this. Did he not like what he saw? Is he already bored? Why didn’t he push for any more after that? Why hasn’t he texted me a single time in the past two months?

Was he trying to get me to do more, to panic and do more to regain his attention?

What kind of game is he playing with me?

I’ve been so anxious as we’ve gotten closer and closer to this event, and so upset that I did what I did that night that the toy has stayed in the drawer.

I couldn’t bring myself to go there again. I couldn’t risk it.

He knows I’m a virgin… is he doubting that?

Did he think I gave in too easily, and now he doesn’t want me?

I mean I should be so lucky, but still. The silence doesn’t sit well with me.

It’s driving my panic to a whole other level.

I’m about to be married to this guy, and I can’t even get a read on him and my situation.

Why would he go through with the wedding if he’s lost interest?

But he made such a big show of it and spent so much money, maybe he’d look stupid if he canceled so close to the day. I’m sure his ego is enormous.

Or maybe he just wants me to sit and stew and obsess about that night. Maybe he doesn’t want me to get too comfortable with him. Maybe he wants me to be having the mental breakdown I’m having right now and have been having on and off for the past two months. Maybe he enjoys my suffering.

I couldn’t bring myself to delete the texts because then I might not remember them, and I couldn’t obsess about them and kick myself for letting him talk to me like that and actually…

complying with his demands. As soon as my orgasm had finished and he’d typed those last two words, the full brutal weight of what I’d just done landed on me.

I can’t walk into that church and look him in the eyes after that. I really just… can’t. And it’ll be worse if he’s physically repulsive. The stalking, the forced marriage, and on top of everything else… someone gross who’s touch I’ll have to tolerate and have no escape from.

I think I’m going to vomit. In fact I know I am.

I run to the attached bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach, grateful I couldn’t eat much at breakfast. I rinse my mouth out in the sink and brush my teeth—so happy I brought a travel toothbrush and toothpaste.

Then I return to the main room and eat a mint from my bag and reapply my lipgloss like all this shit is normal.

I can’t stop thinking about the last time I saw him when we were teenagers and how he made my skin crawl and all I wanted was for him to go away.

I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate.

I think I’m having a panic attack. I can’t be trapped with him.

I can’t. I can’t be trapped in this building.

It feels like there’s no air in here. My skin feels too tight.

I rush to the window and open it, letting the warm breeze in. It hasn’t yet gotten hot enough to be uncomfortable yet. I lean my head out the window and take a long slow deep breath of fresh air.

Birds chirp. Flowers inject the breeze with their soft perfumes. Dappled shadows from full green tree leaves dance on the ground.

This is when I realize something completely crazy. No one is out here by this window. It’s a first floor room. The windows are giant and open all the way. There is no screen. There are no bars. One could easily just step outside this room and… go out there.

How on earth did Aidan miss this? Those stupid goons are outside the door, and they didn’t even check the perimeter?

Did they not realize the windows opened?

Is he giving me my freedom? Maybe he really did just lose full interest in me.

Years and years of obsession only for him to go…

meh, I saw her pussy in bad lighting after twenty-one years of fixating. She’s too easy for me !

Maybe he’s going to just let me be a runaway bride.

Or maybe not. Maybe it’s some kind of weird loyalty test. Maybe he’ll hunt me down and punish me if I run.

I take out my cell phone and pull up the text thread I didn’t delete. Since I don’t know his number and therefore couldn’t save him in my contacts list, the only way I have to reach him is this message thread.

I try to think of something to say that doesn’t sound entirely pathetic. I finally settle on: You don’t want this. I don’t want this. Let me go .

That’s about as strong a text as I can come up with under the circumstances.

Several minutes pass, and I’m not sure if he got the text or if he’s just ignoring me. Is he trying to make me chase him? That’ll never happen. I just want to know what the hell is going on right now and why my most persistent stalker has chosen to completely ignore me for the last two months.

Finally, one word comes back.

Never .

But why hasn’t he tried to contact me at all? I mean the flowers and jewelry kept coming, but he stopped texting me. I am not going to ask him why he stopped texting. I don’t know what fucking mind games he’s playing with me right now.

I text back: Please, I can’t do this .

You can and you will. You are mine, Maddie. You will always be mine .

Okay, so… hasn’t lost interest, just fucking with my mind. Well, at least that mystery is solved. I don’t text him back. I can’t allow myself to keep begging my captor to unlock my cage.

The time on my phone reads 6:20. In ten minutes someone is going to knock on that door and take me to him.

I look back at the open window with the breeze and freedom on the other side.

It’s not a test. He made a mistake. He fucked up, and I will never forgive myself if I don’t take this opportunity.

I have no idea where I’ll go or how I’ll get there, and I don’t know what awful thing will happen to me when he finds me, but I have to try. I have to just… go. I will never forgive myself if I don’t try to escape.

I climb out the window and finally I take in the open space around me. For the first time in months, I feel like I could go anywhere… with no eyes on me, no surveillance, no security detail. Just me and the great big world.

I walk across the grounds under several shade trees, and right before I reach a giant oak growing next to the parking lot, a man dressed in all black steps out from behind the tree.

He has dark hair and even darker eyes. He looks to be about early-to-mid fifties, but a hot early-to-mid fifties.

There’s just a touch of grey at his temples.

Something about him is familiar, but I can’t place it.