Virtue & Vanity (9 page)

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Authors: Astrid Jane Ray

BOOK: Virtue & Vanity
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“Isa, the school-break starts in two weeks. Maybe I can visit you and cheer you up? What do you say?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I tried to maintain an even breath. “I’m sorry.”

She had already planned everything, but I couldn’t let her come and witness my misery. I knew she was disappointed, but I couldn’t let her visit me and see the bad situation I was trapped in. 

“Well, another time then. Please, at least tell me it’s not boring and that you’re having fun.” She wanted to cheer me up.

I was about to reply when the sound of the turning doorknob startled me. Suddenly, the door opened wide and those cold green eyes were glaring at me.

“Isa... are you alright?” Ashley was getting worried when I gasped in the phone. “Isa what’s going on?” She tried to get me to talk to her, but I was so anxious that I couldn’t get a hold of myself.

“A-Ashley, sorry. I have to go. I-I’ll call you back,” I managed to get the words out before hanging up the phone.

I didn’t know what to do. What I had feared for days was actually happening. Sebastian was in my room and my intuition warned me that all of my nightmares were going to come true.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

I went from shocked to miserable and frightened in a matter of seconds. That awful incident in the library seemed to have opened Pandora’s Box, and it couldn’t be closed again. Afraid to do anything, I remained standing, frozen on the exact same spot, waiting for his next move. I hugged my waist, panting for air and anticipating the worst. He appeared to be completely in control, amused by the tension.

“I thought you were tired.” He looked at me, his eyes accusing.

I was cornered, like a criminal about to be punished. He seemed to be too curious about what I would say in my defense, but he didn’t push me to answer. Instead he just stood there, patiently waiting for my justification like he had all the time in the world, which was unusual behavior for him. Still, even though I knew that much, I was stuck in a very sticky situation, because I didn’t know where his strange demeanor would lead to.

“I was... I mean, I am tired. It’s just that my mother called me just as I was about to lie down,” I finally mumbled.

When I finished, he didn’t say anything. His gaze remained on my face for a while and then, to my surprise, he walked calmly towards the closet, opened it and started going through my clothes. I observed in shame as he pulled everything out of the wardrobe. Radiating an aura of apparent disbelief, he was stretching my shirts, trousers and blouses, before throwing them on the floor. At times he would take a piece of clothing in his hands, then look at me with an expression of disapproval on his face. I blushed and didn’t make a sound while he took the liberty of tainting my personal space in such a humiliating manner. Every clothing item I possessed wound up on the floor after Sebastian’s inspection. I didn’t know why he was doing it.
Maybe he was throwing me out?

“Is that everything you have to wear?” He gaped at the pile of clothes and then turned towards me.

“Yes, Sir,” I said quietly.

“Stop with the 
Sir 
bullshit. It’s ridiculous. I am your husband for heaven’s sake!” He was definitely annoyed.

“What should I call you then?” I barely dared to ask.

“You should call me by my name. I do hope you know it.” His voice was venomous.

“Yes, Si... I mean...” I pushed myself to say it. “Sebastian.” The sound of his name rolling off my lips sounded so unreal, so unnatural.

He let out a breath I imagined to be sprinkled with icy coldness and for a fracture of a second it seemed like he stood dead in tracks, taken aback by the remaining echo of my voice, whispering his sophisticated name. He sneered as I looked down; avoiding his inquiring stare and the sight of his threatening, firm posture.

“My pretty
wife
,” he muttered in a familiar tone that was hurtful, but also accentuated by a rare presence of raw, instinctive emotion, “dressed in rags?” More than a statement, it was a question, asked in such a puzzling manner, like he was bothered by the sight of my shabby-looking wardrobe on a level that reflected more than sole demands of his vain pride. “I don’t
ever
want to see you wear any of these things again.” I winced at the unexpected sound of his deep, patronizing voice and he stopped, disrupted by my fretful reaction.

The stretching silence made the anticipation all the more unbearable and I looked back into those cold eyes, expecting a strong, verbal blow, but what I got was a rephrased and diplomatic reprimand instead.

“You should know that you’re expected to dress
differently
at this place. Besides, I’m sure you’re aware this marriage made it possible for you to afford things that match your
new
lifestyle. I advise you to take advantage of that.”

I swallowed and then spoke in a small, frightful voice that was burdened by a dangerous trait of remaining pride. “I’d prefer not to.”

Those contradicting words seemed to have locked out a stormy reaction within him, causing his already murky gaze to darken and imprison me under its refined superiority. There was no side road I could take to escape the suppressed undertone of boiling detest that seethed from those eyes. The earnestness with which he stared at me, made him look tortured and seemingly weak for only a second, but the very moment he realized I might be getting closer to deciphering a small part of the labyrinth that represented his complicated conduct, he looked away and that fragile thread of humanity had evaporated from his face.

“This is neither a matter of preference, nor the time for false pretences. Helen will go shopping with you tomorrow morning. I want to see you dressed
appropriately
,” he emphasized the last word and then lowered his voice. “Understood?”

“Yes. Understood,” I complied, but my act of pathetic submission didn’t help matters.

“That pile over there,” he referred to my old clothes, “will be given to charity tomorrow. I can’t believe they’ve let you walk around dressed like that for the past few weeks,” he said and his eyes darted towards the last separate closet compartment.

My heart raced as he opened it and pulled out the shredded remains of what used to be my wedding gown. He took the longest time to take his eyes off of it, but when he did, they darted right towards mine and they were once again furious. However, it was fury that his voice wouldn’t show.

“The one decent piece of clothing you have in your closet, and look what you’ve done to it. What is the meaning of this?”

As I expected, he was playing another one of his mind games, keeping up the composed act while his entire expression screamed murder. The fact that he was angry while we were alone in a room with a king-sized bed terrorized me, and seeing that dress again made me completely frantic, because it reminded me what he was capable of doing. I didn’t want to draw his attention, but I couldn’t stop the tremor. Fear was a mighty enemy and I was losing the battle. As soon as the destroyed wedding dress ended up on the top of the pile, he made a move towards me and I immediately flinched. And there was that dark smirk on his face again. After studying me from the distance, he decided to come closer. Like always, my hysteria grew as his presence closed up on me. For a while, he observed as I struggled to remain calm and then he leaned over to me and whispered in my ear.

“Is there a reason for you to be so skittish?”

“N-no... I... I don’t know,” I blurted out, wondering which answer he wanted to hear.

“Maybe I should give you a reason. That’s what you’re obsessing about, isn’t it? You’re wondering when we’re going to put our little arrangement into motion again.” He paused for a moment. “Why delay the inevitable?” His green eyes locked on mine right after he said it.

A suppressed memory of the wedding night returned. “
Spread your legs and let me fuck you already.”
 The words rang in my head and I winced in fear.

“Not now,” I pleaded. “Don’t.”

“Why not? Now is as good time as any.” He shrugged. “It makes no difference.”

“You... you said. You said you wouldn’t.”

“I said I wouldn’t when we were in the library.” He looked around the room. “This isn’t the library,” he said smartly and raised his hand in an attempt to touch me, but I flinched and jumped back, protectively wrapping my arms around my middle.

“I don’t... I don’t want to,” I said almost inaudibly.

“What makes you think that I care about what you want?”

He said it so calmly, so carelessly that it broke my heart. I knew he hated me. I knew he didn’t care. Still, it hurt because I had no idea why he despised me with so much passion.

“Why are you so cruel?” I asked in a tremulous voice.

He snickered. “I’m hardly cruel. All I expect from you is to fulfill your duty and I have given you enough time to get used to the idea of being my wife.”

“You didn’t give me time,” I said in disbelief and then, a dangerous sentence spilled out of me. “You hurt me.”

He raised his eyebrows and then narrowed them at me. “Are you referring to our wedding night?”

I winced and shivered from terror as the flashbacks of that night settled in my mind.

“It’s a yes or no question. Not that difficult,” he said impatiently.

A tear slid down my cheek. “Yes,” I said and my shoulders dropped in defeat.

He stepped closer, possessing my personal space and I shivered from discomfort when he took a strain of my hair in his hand. He aimed the green fury of his eyes right into my soul.

“What exactly did you expect? You were a virgin, but were you honestly unaware of what happens between a man and a woman when they get married?” His eyes gleamed at me, waiting for a response. “Answer me.”

I closed my eyes trying to cover up my shame. “I wasn’t unaware.”

“Then you knew what you signed up for when you married me. If you expected hearts and flowers, I’m sorry to break the news and disappoint you, but that’s not what this marriage is about. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better. Next time, I hope you won’t forget I’m your husband and try to deny my touch,” he said with genuine threat hanging from his voice.

I stiffened when he said those words. He thought it was his right to do what he had done. I was so frightened of him that I couldn’t stop the tremors that gripped my body, but my mind pushed me to say something.

“No!” I said in a defiant whisper.

“No?” He asked with amusement.

“N-not after what you’ve done to me. I w-won’t let you touch me again.” I fought to keep my voice steady, but it was a losing battle.

“You won’t let me? Do you really think I need your permission?”

He leaned closer and I raised my arms, trying to defend myself in panic. He looked at me in the same horrifying way he did that night—with threatening desire in his eyes. Terror ran through my veins because the awareness that I was completely at his mercy took hold of me. The look on his face told me he knew that he was in control and he savored that moment. He started circling around me while my eyes frantically followed him, wondering what he would do next. When his hands touched my shoulders, I jerked so hard that he had to tighten his grip on me to stop me from falling to my knees. He was standing behind me, like a monster lurking from the dark and the fact that I couldn’t see him, but only feel him, scared me to death.

I shuddered as his hands slowly moved down my arms, finding their way to my waist. He pulled me so close against him that I could feel his erection touching my lower back. My heart was thumping out of my chest as I felt one of his hands lowering down. 

“If you’re buying time as my wife by denying my basic marital right, you’ll be sorely disappointed,” he whispered with contempt lurking from his voice. 

His words made absolutely no sense but I couldn’t be bothered about that because I was too shaken by what he was doing to me. I gasped in a panicked attempt to bear his presence without completely crumbling down in front of him. His lips traveled down my neck, laying soft kisses on their way to my collarbone, where he paused and deeply inhaled the scent of my skin, intensifying his touch on my thigh. Unusual warmth rushed through my body, and my humiliation became complete as I started getting aroused by the touch of the man who terrified me—a touch that was sensual yet possessive, trapping my body in the strangest mixture of fear and desire.

“You seem to be enjoying this a little too much for someone who doesn’t want to be touched,” he breathed on my neck and I became paralyzed from the fear and embarrassment. “You know that it doesn’t have to be that difficult. We’re both stuck in this situation so we might as well take the easy way out.” 

His hot breath burned my skin as I once again tried to decipher the meaning behind his mysterious words but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make sense of them. The sound of his voice echoed in my mind. 
Was he right? Was I that depraved to want him after what he had done to me?
 A flashback of an embarrassing, heart-wrenching memory tore through me and a spasm of pain rushed into my chest. 
No!
 
Not again, not like this. 
He loosened his grip on my arm and I sensed I had a chance to escape. Determined to get away from him, I gathered all of my courage and broke free from his grip, but he grabbed my hip possessively to stop me from running away. I slapped him as hard as I could, without thinking about the consequences. He removed his hand from my body and rubbed it against his slightly red cheek. Those emerald eyes gleamed with madness and I knew there was a harsh retaliation coming my way. I started stepping away from him and he just stared at me. I took a step back as he came one step closer. We were playing the game of cat and mouse—the one he seemed to enjoy so much.

“I’m sorry.” My voice was filled with trepidation. I knew those three words wouldn’t stop him from hurting me.

A grin curved his lips. “Oh, you will be once I’m finished with you.”

Adrenaline pumped in my blood as I ran towards the bathroom and before I knew it, he was coming after me. I turned the knob, managing to lock the door at the very last moment. Complete desperation took hold of me when I realized what I had done.
I hit him!
My hands landed on my ears because I wanted to block the sound of his violent knocks.

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