Page 9

9

Thea

I t felt like I’d been in this cell for weeks. Months. Nothing had changed. Twice a day, a guard appeared with two bottles of water and some food. Usually pre-packaged sandwiches. Nobody had emptied the bucket in the corner since I arrived. It stunk, but then so did I.

I was so fucking cold. Not even walking around the cell helped. And besides, I was too tired to move most of the time.

To begin with, thoughts of revenge had kept me warm, but the longer I was stuck down here, with only my thoughts for company, the harder it was to keep a lid on my sanity.

Since I refused to entertain any thoughts of the guys, even if the memories of their hands, mouths, and cocks were enough to boost my body temperature, it left nothing but grim predictions of what lay ahead.

Was Verity OK? I prayed she was. If Dad had agreed to send her with me to Marku, then she must be safe for now. And once she was with me, I’d do everything in my power to ensure she stayed that way.

The sound of a door clanging open caught my attention. The last meal drop was a short while ago, so this wasn’t more food. I pulled my aching body into a standing position, not willing to let Torrance or anyone else catch me off-guard.

The footsteps got closer until a shadowy figure appeared at the bottom of the stairwell.

“You’re looking well, Thea.” The smirk in his hateful voice was unmistakable, but I pasted a bored expression on my face.

“And you look like a cunt, so no change there.”

Torrance lost his jubilant grin almost immediately. It was gratifying to note how his jaw ticked with annoyance at my words, but strangely, he didn’t bite.

“It’s time to wash the stench off you,” he sneered before unlocking the door. I debated my chances of overpowering him, but my body felt weak, like an underfed kitten. Even when I was at full strength, Torrance had always proved to be a formidable opponent, so there was no way I’d get the better of him now.

But one day, when he least expected it, I would kill the bastard.

“Are you wheeling me out for a festive family dinner?” I asked, wincing when my bare foot stepped on a sharp stone.

He ignored my question, but I noticed he avoided standing too close. Whether that was because I reeked, or because he feared I might attack him, was unknown. I liked to think it was the latter, but realistically, it was probably the former.

The house was quieter than normal when we emerged from the dungeon. The bright lights hurt my eyes after so long underground and they watered like crazy. Outside, the sun hung low in the sky, telling me it was late afternoon.

There was no sign of my father, but servants scurried around carrying trays of food.

“What day is it?” I asked. Had I missed Christmas? Was that why the house seemed lacking in Christmas cheer? Not that Dad ever put much effort into hanging tinsel and mistletoe.

“Your wedding day.” I slammed to a halt, grabbing the wall for support. Torrance spun around and smirked again. “Excited?”

Ignoring the rising panic triggered by his question, I asked, “Where’s Verity?”

“In the attic, where she always is. If you behave, I’ll let you visit her.”

My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour. If Dad planned to drag me to the altar today, the wedding must be happening here, on the estate. No doubt he paid off the local priest to do the ceremony. Or gave him free drugs.

The last time I’d seen Father Raphael, he was off his head, snorting coke off his altar while enjoying a blowjob from a whore dressed as a nun. A devout man of the cloth, he was not.

Torrance took me upstairs to my old bedroom. Inside, three women waited, along with an assortment of boxes.

“Get cleaned up. The wedding is in two hours.”

“I want to see Verity.”

“You’ll see her at the wedding.”

“I want to see her now!”

Torrance lunged for me, shoving me against the wall, his fingers around my neck. Apparently, I didn’t smell that bad. Good to know.

“Do as you’re fucking told, Thea. I’d hate for anything to happen to Verity before the wedding.”

“You can’t hurt her!” I hissed.

“Really? I can do whatever the fuck I want. Marku doesn’t give a shit about your sister. She’s the cherry on the cake. It’s you he wants, so if an unfortunate accident should befall dear, sweet Verity, nobody but you will care.” He stepped back and pulled a face.

“You stink worse than pig shit.”

“Thanks for the feedback. I'll file it under ‘Things I couldn't care less about.’”

The three women stared at the floor, pretending not to hear our exchange. After a few moments where Torrance looked like he wanted to strangle me some more, he stormed off, locking the door behind him.

“What day is it?” I asked the nearest woman.

She looked at her two friends and then at me, her brow scrunched with confusion. “Your wedding day?”

“No, I mean, what actual day is it?”

“Um, Friday?”

The ball was last Saturday, so it had been a week since Torrance threw me in the dungeon. My shoulders sank. Nobody cared enough to come looking for me, it seemed. Not that I wanted them to. It would be a suicide mission.

There was an awkward pause. No doubt they were wondering what the fuck they’d walked into, probably more used to excited brides full of pep about their special day. I was an anomaly. A reluctant bride being forced into a transactional marriage with a disgusting pig of a man,

I’d met Konstantin Marku once. Needless to say, he wasn’t my dream husband. I doubted he was any woman’s dream husband with his pinched little eyes, enormous gut, and significant personality defects.

“Yes, I stink. No need to tell me.”

“Um, if you get showered, then we can start with your hair,” the smaller of the three said, wearing a cautious smile. My stomach growled, and I wobbled, feeling faint from hunger. The last sandwich drop had barely filled the hole in my stomach.

“I need food,” I told the women.

One of them reached into her bag and pulled out a protein bar. She passed it over, and I snatched it from her, not caring that it made me look like a feral beast with zero manners. This might be the last thing I had to eat for hours, potentially days. I needed to make the most of any calories I could grab.

“Thanks,” I said between swallows.

The oldest of the three, a gray-haired woman in her 50s, looked concerned at the state of me but elected not to comment. Once I’d finished the cereal bar, I disappeared into the bathroom, eager to wash the filth from my body. If today was my wedding day, I’d be damned if I was walking down the ‘aisle’ smelling like a dog that had rolled in fox shit.

A girl had standards.

Ruth, Chiara, Celeste, and I were now on a first-name basis. It seemed only fair, given they’d seen every inch of my body while plucking, shaving, and tweaking it. I wasn’t sure what my father had told them, but they were polite and nervous around me.

Ruth, the oldest, asked me several times if I was OK, having seen the bruises around my wrists and the abrasions on my back. I’d pasted a smile on my face and given her a stock answer.

There was no point asking her for help. She was a middle-aged woman, not a Navy Seal. If my father suspected any of these women had tried to help me escape, he’d shoot them without blinking.

So I pretended my lack of excitement about the impending nuptials was down to nerves, not horror.

Celeste stepped back and smiled. “You look beautiful.”

I stood and turned to face the mirror. The woman staring back at me looked like a stranger.

Chiara had pinned my hair up but left a few curls hanging loose to frame my heart-shaped face. My eyes looked larger than ever against my slightly sunken cheeks. Celeste had done her best to give them some color, but my olive skin remained sallow from days underground.

Whoever had chosen my dress must have shopped at the nearest adult store. Nothing said slutty bride more than small scraps of white lace tied together with ribbons. I had a feeling this was Torrance’s work since I doubted my father gave a shit what I wore on my wedding day.

He was selling me for cold, hard cash, not handing me over with a tear in his eye. The ladies had been horrified when I unwrapped the stupid dress from a garment bag. Ruth clutched her imaginary pearls and Celeste snapped an eyebrow pencil in shock.

Was this how I pictured my wedding day?

No.

I’d seen a show once where the main female character got married on a beach at dusk. Just her, her husband-to-be, and a few close friends. That was the kind of wedding I’d choose, you know, if I had an actual choice.

Had Landon moved on already? Was he texting some other girl, calling her his wifey? Knowing him, probably.

What we had was never real. In truth, none of them had completely breached my emotional walls. Not really. Milo had seen my more vulnerable side, but even with him, I’d kept things back. Lied about who I was. Concealed my true motives for being at Abernethy.

They were right to hate me.

The locked turned and Torrance strode in wearing one of his trademark black evil mafia henchman suits. He scanned me from head to toe, nodding with approval at the sight of my tits and ass hanging out.

“Good job, ladies. The boss will be happy you managed to turn a pig’s ear into a silk purse.”

The women tittered with nervous laughter while I rolled my eyes.

“What a pity they couldn’t magic you up a new personality,” I muttered under my breath, but he didn’t hear me.

“Come, Thea,” he grinned like it was Christmas Day and our guests were waiting to tuck into a turkey. “It’s time to meet your new husband.”

I grimaced at the thought of Marku the walrus, threw my shoulders back, and fixed my face into a mask. He may have been a fat bastard, but Marku was a predator, and like all predators, he’d pounce at the first sign of weakness.

“God be with you,” Ruth whispered as I passed her.