Virtue & Vanity (21 page)

***

Instead of going downstairs, like they probably expected me to, I headed for the shower because I wanted nothing more than to wash away the dirt that had clenched onto my body when I was fighting Teresa, and forget about the fact that I could have been killed. However, forgetting something like that was anything but easy. As I showered, I couldn’t stop glancing towards the door. I still felt threatened by her and I kept thinking that she might come back. 

Still in a daze, I left the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around me and when I saw Sebastian standing in the room, I froze, realizing what a terrible idea it had been. Instinctively, I pressed the towel against my body as hard as I could and his lips curved into a light smile when he saw me do that. I’d felt protected in his arms after Teresa had attacked me. There was no fear, only the warmth and the solace of his embrace. Now that we were alone in the room, I was vulnerable again. His eyes roamed the length of my body, making me feel terribly nervous and exposed. I realized that the reaction I had when I saw him in the garden didn’t change anything. The attention he paid to me was still very unwanted, still unpleasant. I just wanted him to look away and...
he did
. 

“Teresa is gone.” He looked down and then said softly. ”I’m sorry about what happened.” 

Stunned by his unexpected words, I finally managed to say something. “It... It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered.

He came closer and I flinched away from him. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, not after what had just happened, but subconsciously I was still frightened of what he might do to me—and knowing that the only barrier that kept him from seeing me naked was a towel enhanced my fear. He seemed to be surprised by my reaction, like he hadn’t expected me to be afraid of him. Reluctantly, he stepped away from me and his eyes closed for a moment as if he wanted to hide whatever bothered him.

When he opened them again, they looked straight into mine. “Are you okay?”

I was disarmed by the way he looked at me, accentuating the words he had just spoken with traces of genuine concern.

In the burning need to hide from his piercing stare, I looked down for a moment and that was when I noticed he had a cut on his arm. 
Teresa had cut him!
A gasp of surprise left my body as anger and worry consumed me and I wondered why I suddenly felt empathy towards him. Anyone else in my situation would have been overjoyed to see him in pain, but I couldn’t bring myself to be that mean. The fact that Teresa had cut him because he was defending me didn’t leave me indifferent either. Of its own accord, my hand reached towards him and I gently ran my fingers around his injured flesh. Then I looked up at him, suddenly letting go of my gloomy thoughts.

“I’m fine. But you—you are hurt. Why didn’t you let them take care of your cut?”

While I addressed my concern, his eyes gazed at me with unusual warmth and the realization of my action hit me. 
Oh my God, I touched him!
I quickly let go of his hand, acting as if I had been burned by the raging fire and he seemed to be amused by my reaction.

Gradually, the loud beating of my heart rose all the way to my ears and as my self-consciousness started working against me, it was getting hard for me to breathe. While I tried to inhale harsh, nervous breaths, the redness of shame spread all over my face and he wouldn’t stop smiling. I gulped, once again clenching hard onto the towel and I noticed that the light in his eyes slowly subsided until it was gone and replaced by another emotion, far more earnest and darker than the one before.

“It’s nothing, Isabelle. A little alcohol for disinfection and it will pass.” He sighed and interrupted me when I parted my lips to protest, though I was sure I still couldn’t speak. “Don’t worry about it. Get some rest; I have to get back to work.” He gently caressed my burning cheek and left the room. He knew how much his presence disturbed me.

I remained standing at the same spot after he left, wondering about the inexplicable feeling of compassion he had managed to awake in me.

***

Sebastian came to the bedroom quite late, but I still wasn’t asleep. I kept the lamp on the nightstand on, because images of Teresa holding a knife above me wouldn’t disappear. He approached me with caution, looking at me as though he knew I was still frightened of everything that had transpired. When he sat on the bed next to me, he looked away and I couldn’t help but mentally scowl at myself for feeling guilty because of what had happened to him.

“Does it hurt?” I asked in a soft voice and now I felt guilty because I openly demonstrated my concern for him again.

“No, it’s nothing. It will heal,” he reassured me as his eyes returned to me and his face settled into a boyish, almost innocent expression.

Mysteriously, a strong desire to help him wouldn’t leave me alone and I wanted to nurture him like he had nurtured me when I was burning up with fever. I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he looked like he truly needed someone and I wasn’t made of stone. No matter how hard I tried to tell myself he didn’t deserve my empathy, I couldn’t bear to see him like that.

“Can I help you take care of it?” I blushed and looked away because I wasn’t used to sharing any kind of closeness with him.

A light smile curved his lips and he looked at me with that same disarming warmth glaring from his eyes. Curiosity about his behavior worried my mind with hundreds of questions. 
Where did the arrogant man, who’d humiliated me and hurt me without showing the slightest trace of mercy, disappear to? 
I didn’t know if his darkness lurked in the background, but I hoped he would manage to restrain it for the rest of the night.

“You can rub some alcohol on it. It’s in the medicine cabinet. Just look for Isopropyl,” he said quietly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

With a sudden need to create some distance between us, I quickly went to the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet and looked for the label that said 
Isopropyl
. When I managed to find it after long seconds of searching, I took a piece of cotton wool and composed myself before going back into the room. The first thing I noticed when I walked inside was Sebastian’s clothes, spread on the table across from the bed. I gulped as I turned to face him. His eyes were closed and I thought he had fallen asleep already. When I got into the bed, his eyes opened abruptly and he stretched his arm towards me, waiting for me to rub the alcohol on his wound. At first, I hesitated, but then I noticed the sign of approval in his green beaming eyes.

Nevertheless, I was terribly nervous because I was about to consciously touch him for the first time ever. He had touched me so many times, but I had never dared to lay a finger on him. In fact, the thought had never occurred to me because of the terror I felt whenever he was around.

Trying to pretend that I wasn’t fazed with what I was about to do, I applied some alcohol on the cotton wool and lifted up his arm. For some reason, I couldn’t make eye contact with him, so I looked away and my cheeks reddened with some kind of inexplicable shame like I was doing something that was wrong and forbidden. A cynical smile appeared on my lips for a short moment because I thought how absurd it was to feel so confused about touching the man who was my husband. When I pressed the cotton wool against his cut, he tensed. It had to have caused him pain and I knew for a fact that it burnt like hell, but he remained still and didn’t make a sound. Luckily, the wound wasn’t deep, so there was little chance of inflammation or infection, but it still looked quite painful to me. When I was almost done, he made me look at him and the blush on my cheeks deepened even more. 

“Thank you,” he whispered softly.

“You’re welcome,” I said in one breath, gaping at him.

I realized I was still holding onto his hand, even though I wasn’t rubbing any alcohol on his cut, so I swiftly let go of it. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of me and it made me nervous. I felt exposed, like he could see right through me, like he could reach into my mind and see exactly what I was thinking.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” He broke the awkward silence and I looked at him in anticipation. “I’m leaving on a business trip to Las Vegas tomorrow and I want you to join me.” 

I exhaled, my eyes widening in shock and he silently observed my reaction to his blunt demand.

“But...Why?” I couldn’t shake off the scary feeling of mistrust. 

“There will be a fundraiser in the evening and I want my wife to accompany me. Why is that so weird?” he whispered his question, acting like it was perfectly normal for him to seek my company. 

“Because you have never wanted me to accompany you before,” I said and looked away from him.

“But I want you to accompany me 
now
.” His voice was decisive, letting me know he probably wouldn’t give me any choice in the matter.

“I... I don’t want to go,” I said insecurely and he sighed, displeased by my defiance.

“Do you mind telling me why?” he asked in his falsely composed voice.

“I’m...” I closed my eyes, trying to hide my discomfort from him. “It’s just that I’m afraid of... f-flying.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, I did feel uncomfortable in a plane and if I could get a chance to avoid flying, I would definitely take it, but there were other things that worried me a lot more than that—like being completely alone with him in an unfamiliar city where I didn’t know a living soul.

“I’m pretty sure it’s something else you’re afraid of.” A contour of a smile twitched the edge of his lips as he gave me a knowing look but when he saw my fearful reaction, his teasing had subsided and he became serious. “You’re that scared of me, huh?”
 
It was a rhetorical question, one he already knew the answer to. “Rest assured, Isabelle. There is nothing I could do to you in Las Vegas that I couldn’t do right here in this room.” I flinched and tried to move away from him but he gently held me by my arm to stop me. “Don’t. I made you a promise, so there is no reason for you to fear this trip. It’s just a fundraiser; no big deal.” His eyes looked straight into mine, but I still couldn’t determine if he was telling the truth. 

“If it’s not a big deal, then why do I have to attend?” I asked the obvious.

He stared at me for a while, like he contemplated something in his mind. “Isabelle, don’t fight me on this. You’re going. It’s not negotiable,” he said firmly, but after a moment, his expression softened. His hand cupped my chin and he brushed his thumb along my cheek. “Relax and go to sleep. You have my word that there is no need to be afraid,” he said in a whisper and when he realized I wouldn’t say a word, he sighed and switched off the light, leaving us in darkness. 

I turned my back to him and tensed up, wondering why on earth he would want to take me on a trip with him so eagerly—and it wasn’t just about the trip. He said he wanted us to attend a fundraiser together and it didn’t make any sense. Just a few days ago he was nervous about us attending the dinner at his parent’s house because he was afraid I would embarrass him and suddenly he had no problem with taking me to something as formal as a fundraiser. Events like these were a big deal in the rich people’s world. What puzzled me even more was that Sebastian had shown me that he was ashamed of me on numerous occasions and yet, even though nothing had changed, he wanted to present 
me
—the wife who was beneath him, to his work associates. There had to be some hidden motive behind this. I knew he was a master of deception. I knew the probability that he tried to manipulate me was a lot higher than the chance that he actually wanted to make things better between us.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and focused on the darkness of night to keep my mind from thinking about Sebastian’s sinister plans, the wedding night horror or the sharp blade of the knife that aimed to kill me that day.

Chapter Twenty-Four

As the plane started taking off, I clenched my fists in an attempt to fight the anxiety. Just like the few previous experiences in a plane, this one was quite unnerving as well. The plane had to have belonged to the Everett family because it was decorated in sheer luxury. There were two flight attendants who accompanied us, to cater to our needs. Sebastian didn’t really care about my fear of flying because he was too busy managing all sorts of business phone calls, and when he wasn’t talking on the phone, he was typing on his laptop. I wondered where he found the energy to fulfill all the things on his busy schedule. His persistence was the one thing I both admired and feared about him. One of the attendants noticed how anxious I was, so he offered me a glass of wine, which I refused. Only when the pilot announced that we were landing did I manage to relax a little. It was already dark outside and I dared to peek through the small window. I was amazed by the megalomaniac skyscrapers and buildings that seemed to be even more imposing than those in New York. The skyline of Las Vegas was magnificent with all the shining lights illuminating the sky.

When we landed, Sebastian was still on the phone, raging about some kind of a business deal gone wrong. He got up and started walking towards the exit, motioning his eyebrows towards me to let me know that I should follow him. After six hours of flying, I left the plane in a daze, confused and exhausted. Soon after the procedural things were taken care of, we got in the back seat of an SUV and headed towards our hotel, or so I supposed. Sebastian continued his annoying business conversation and I wished he’d stop yelling for at least a moment. Tired of listening to his raging, I shut out and focused all my attention on the glaring lights and the exciting night life of the city I’d never got to visit before, and had it not been for Sebastian’s fundraiser, probably never would have. Not even once had he glanced outside the window to observe the lights of one of the most famous cities in the world. On the contrary, he seemed to be completely uninterested and he looked like nothing could impress him.

When the car stopped in front of our five-star hotel, Sebastian finally decided to greet the person he had on the line and ended the call. Without saying a word, he got out of the car and I followed him inside. The moment we walked into the hotel, the feeling of uneasiness washed over me. When we approached the hotel reception and Sebastian got the key to our room, a scary flashback appeared before my eyes and sheer terror crept up my bones again.

“Come,” he said quietly and held me by my elbow.

We walked towards the elevator and when he led me into that tight space, I experienced an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. I looked up at him, trying to decipher his facial expression, but there were no emotions visible on his features—just his cold, mysterious mask. A nervous shiver twisted my stomach, and when the elevator door opened, I hesitated, because another scary image flashed through my mind. I remembered our wedding night and how I had fearfully followed him through the hallway, stumbling on my wedding dress. Fear gripped me as he led me through the hallway again, and the moment we reached the door to our room, a series of frightening memories attacked my mind and I knew I was bound to have a panic attack. He unlocked the door, and just like on our wedding night, motioned for me to go in first. With every step, my breathing became more rapid and when my eyes stilled on the bed in the middle of the room—it was too late for me to pull myself together. Violent shivers ripped through my body as everything he had done to me became real again. I felt the color drain from my face and when I heard his steps behind me, hysteria took over and a violent tremor ripped through my insides. I looked around, searching for the bathroom door and when I spotted it, I ran straight inside. I heard Sebastian’s confused voice calling after me, but I had no time to reply. I knelt next to the toilet, leaned above it and started throwing up. Sebastian rushed into the bathroom right after me and he seemed to have been shocked by what he had seen. Food kept coming out and I was sure the exhausting convulsions that twisted my stomach would never come to an end. Humiliation crept over me when he knelt beside me and lifted my hair with his hands. I tried so hard to stop, but my tortured body wasn’t ready to leave me at peace yet. He kept stroking my hair and telling me to relax. After another ten minutes went by and I threw up two more times—with Sebastian right by my side—I finally felt my physical torment was over, but the torment of my complete emotional humiliation was only just beginning. My drained body leaned on the toilet seat and I had no intention to look at him. When I stilled and realized what had just happened, heavy emotions came to the surface and tears of disgrace started dwelling in my eyes.

“Isabelle,” he said in the gentlest whisper I had ever heard, but I still didn’t dare face him.

He continued stroking my hair and caressing my trembling body while I wept like nothing in this world could console me. He wrapped his arms around me and started pulling me away from the toilet and into his strong embrace.

“N-no, don’t.” I started panicking because I didn’t want him to see me.

He sat on the floor and leaned against the wall without letting me escape from his possessive grip. Vomit was smeared all over my chin and I tried to hide my face from him, but he wouldn’t allow it. He reached over to the sink to get to the roll of toilet paper and he wiped away the vomit from my face. Then it hit me. The arrogant perfectionist, Sebastian Everett, was wiping away the sticky vomit from my face. Undoubtedly, he was disgusted with me. Apart from that night when he’d raped me, this had to be the most embarrassing experience in my life. A choked sob escaped my throat as I desperately tried to shield myself away from him, but I was no match for his strength. To my complete astonishment, he started rocking me in his arms, all the while caressing my hair and deeply flushed cheeks.

“It’s okay. Don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong,” he whispered and lifted up my face.

His eyes gazed at me with unexpected compassion and I was cornered into admitting my fear to him. I didn’t want to speak while he looked at me. I couldn’t imagine how awful my breath must have been, but surprisingly, he didn’t seem to mind. However, I did. It bothered me tremendously and it made me even more vulnerable. I turned my head away from him, anticipating he would fixate my gaze on him at any moment, but he didn’t. He patiently waited for me to say something.

“I...” I tried to speak, but my lips started shaking. “I ate something bad,” I mumbled, hoping he would accept my explanation.

“You ate something bad?” He sighed. “And that’s why you’re crying and shaking like you’re about to die?”

I closed my eyes tightly and fresh tears rolled down my cheeks. 
Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone?
 I couldn’t tell him the truth, and I doubted he wanted to hear it.

“I didn’t forget my promise. I told you that I wouldn’t push you to be intimate with me and I won’t,” he spoke in a soft, steady voice.

“Then why... why am I here?” I dared to utter the burning question.

“You are here because I want you to be here. I want your company.”

“You’ve never wanted my company before,” I said almost accusingly.

“Isabelle…” He gasped loudly which was an obvious sign of irritation. “After everything that happened with Teresa I couldn’t leave without you and I really 
do
 want you to accompany me to the fundraiser tomorrow.” He looked at me with intensity. 

“I don’t believe you,” I muttered and looked away.

He sighed. “I know, but I hope you’re aware that if I wanted to fuck you, I could have done it back home. I didn’t have to drag you all the way to Las Vegas to get you to perform your marital duties.”

I tensed up in his arms because the terms 
'fuck you’
 and 
'marital duties’
 made me feel cheap and dirty. He had to have felt it because he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, tightening his grip around me.

“What I meant to say,” his voice went from rough to soft in a second, “was that there is nothing for you to fear.”

I begged to differ because I didn’t trust him and in my mind I had every reason to fear him. Instead of reacting on his gentle reassurances, I lowered my gaze and numbly stared at the tiled floor. He cleared his throat, warning me that he was still there, but I chose to pretend that he wasn’t. I rested in his arms motionlessly, feeling exhausted and ashamed. After a while, his hand found my scalp, and started a series of familiar strokes along the tangled strands of my blond hair. My eyelids succumbed to his calming fondle and covered my eyes. The only sense I had left was the feeling of his touch and the smell of his cologne which, surprisingly, didn’t scare me anymore. I realized that his cologne didn’t trigger the bad memories because it wasn’t the same scent from before. For some reason, he’d changed it and I counted my blessings because bearing with the images that would always emerge when I inhaled that scent would have been the end of me at that moment.

I cringed when his hand traveled along my face all the way down to the collar of my shirt. When he touched the top button, every hair on the back of my neck stood up.

“Relax,” he said in a whisper. “You have to get out of these clothes and have a bath.”

The fact that he wanted to take off my clothes sent me in a state of complete shock. When he twisted his fingers to unbutton that first button on my shirt, every fiber of my being became alarmed and I caught his palm to stop him. Aggressive shivers took complete control of my body again and my teeth chattered when I tried to tell him I didn’t want him to undress me.

“Don’t.” A silent plea escaped my lips.

He removed his hand from my shirt and placed it on my trembling chin. His fingers brushed along my lips and then he made me look at him.

“Isabelle, you have to take off your dirty clothes and clean up. Right now, you are too weak, but it has to be done, so you’re going to have to let me do it,” he reassured me.

“No. You said you wouldn’t h-hurt me. You promised,” I said desperately, still denying his request.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Trust me... at least a little bit.” He tried to convince me, but he didn’t understand the depth of my despair.

“I c-can’t... Please.” I felt the fire burning my cheeks.

He gave me a knowing look and it only made me blush deeper.

“Hey,” he started whispering again. “There’s no need to be ashamed. I am your husband. It’s okay.”

I winced when I heard him say that, and when he noticed he had scared me, an apologetic expression graced his face.

“Don’t be alarmed, I have already promised I wouldn’t touch you.”

“I don’t want you to s-see me naked.” I looked at him pleadingly, remembering his words from long ago.

A husband and wife don’t hide from each other.

He stared at me for a while like he was trying to make some kind of a decision in his mind.

“Then I won’t look. I give you my word.” He fixated his eyes on mine and his hand reached for the button on my shirt again. I froze. “I won’t take my eyes away from yours, okay?” he asked in a quiet voice and patiently waited for my permission.

After moments of hesitation, I offered him a light nod and he looked at me with compassion, like he knew how difficult it was for me to trust him and let him do this. While he unbuttoned my shirt, his eyes never once broke the gaze shared between us. My breathing became shallow, because I expected him to break his promise, but he was determined not to look away. He pulled my arms out of the sleeves and then reached towards my shoes. He removed them in one swift move and I knew he would take off my pants next. I flinched and held my breath, causing him to pause in the middle of his movement when he touched the zipper.

“It’s alright. I won’t look,” he said convincingly.

He didn’t continue until I managed to calm down and draw in a steady breath. While he unzipped my pants and started lowering them down, his other hand returned to my hair and he repeatedly brushed his fingers along the tip of my forehead. He slowly made me sit upright so that he could pull the pants from my legs and I closed my eyes, breaking our gaze, when the shameful realization that I sat in his lap almost naked settled in my mind.

“Look at me.” I heard his silent plea.

I opened my tired eyes and gazed at him mistrustfully. I tensed up when his hand reached behind to my back and undid my bra. The image from the wedding night sprang to my mind. At first I clenched my arms around the bra, afraid to let it fall down, but after he gave me some time to come to terms with it, his warm expression disarmed me and I gradually relaxed and allowed him to take it off. The moment I lost the protection of the fabric, my arms wound up wrapped around my exposed chest. A light smile appeared on Sebastian’s face, probably because I was blushing, but I couldn’t help it. The fact that he was my husband didn’t lessen my shame. If anything, it only deepened it. I started shivering when his hand lingered down my body because I knew there was only one piece of clothing left. He pulled the edge of my panties and I whimpered when another flashback startled me.

“Shh…” He gazed at me tenderly and then leaned his forehead against mine. “Don’t be afraid. Nothing bad will happen.” The words eased my panic as he slowly took off my panties.

He kept his promise and he didn’t spare as much as a glance at my naked body, but I still felt vulnerable and exposed. The reality of being dependant on him and completely at his mercy deeply disturbed me. His forehead was still leaned on mine when he warned me that he would lift me up and take me to the bathtub. My body stiffened when he started carrying me and I buried my face in the nape of his neck, trying to deal with the unnerving shame and the sudden fear that sent chills down my spine. He carefully lowered my body into the tub and I quickly curved into a ball because I was self–conscious about my nakedness. I tensed even more when he knelt to my level. Defenseless, I sat there hugging my legs as tightly as I could and staring at my knees to avoid his knowing eyes. The recollection of the morning after our wedding night managed to creep into my mind and I remembered how I had been absolutely terrified of him, fearing he would punish me because I had vomited all over the bathroom floor. Despite his efforts to console me, the present situation wasn’t very different, because nothing could erase the fear and wariness he had once instilled in me.