CHAPTER FOUR
1436 Words
~~Kara's POV~~
I didn't sleep a wink that night.
This time it wasn't because I feared Aunt Agatha; it was because of the kiss. I couldn't stop thinking about it.
I had never felt such a tender touch before, the way he held me… I wanted more, but he stopped.
Why?
Did he regret it?
That morning, Ilya didn't return. I changed into my old clothes; they were dry now.
I returned home minutes after I left the hotel; Aunt Agatha was sitting in the living room with a cup of tea in her hand. Beside her were two men in suits, each wearing a stern look on their faces.
Aunt Agatha’s brows raised as she saw me. “Finally, I thought you had died in a ditch somewhere.”
If I did, she would care either way.
“There,” she pointed at a file on the table before her, "that's the marriage contract; sign it.”
It came so early?
I walked towards it and picked it up. There were rules in the contract: I couldn't speak unless spoken to, and I couldn't leave my bedroom unless I was summoned.
Before I could read the rest, Aunt Agatha's voice cut through, “The purpose of reading a contract is to decide whether you want it or not.” Her gaze darkened. “Do you think you have a choice here?”
I heard Kelly's laugh. I looked up to see her having breakfast in the dining area; her short brown hair rested on top of her shoulders, and she had gray eyes just like her mother and was just as evil as her.
I picked up the pen on the table and signed the contract. It was three pages long, and I had to sign each page. What kind of contract requires three pages?
"Unfortunately, you can't do some work in the house before you go,” Aunt Agatha sipped from her cup. “These men say that they have to take you with them right away.”
My heart dropped. I knew I would be taken away, but she had said two days. Now I had to be taken now? To a killer?
"I'll… pack my things,” I stuttered.
“No need,” the two men said as they stood up.
“You are to take nothing from your old life with you,” one of them said.
One of them grabbed me, and they led me out of the house and into a black car that was waiting outside.
I wished I could run, but there was nowhere else to go, so I accepted my fate.
Soon we arrived at a mansion; it seemed to be Cross’s home. As I was led into the house, I still couldn't believe it; signing that contract meant that I was married to Salvatore Cross. It made a chill run down my spine.
The house was filled with men armed with guns, all in black suits and stern looks on their faces.
A was shown to a bedroom; it had a big bed in the middle with two desks beside it, and the soft smell of lavender cascaded through the place.
How could a room be so full and yet feel so empty?
Maybe I was the empty one.
I found some clothes in the closet and changed into a black gown. It was floor-length; the waist up was as tight as a corset, while the waist below was a flare.
I put my blonde hair in a bun and waited for Salvatore as one of the men had instructed. I trembled as I sat on the bed; I couldn't even lie down despite the fact that I was tired. I just dreaded his return.
I shut my eyes and tried to reminisce about the warmth I felt when I was with Ilya; it worked to calm me down for a few minutes, and then I went back into panic mode.
If I made him angry, he wouldn't just hit me like Agatha did; he would kill me.
Soon there was a knock on the door; it was one of the men who had brought me here. I quickly stood up and walked to the door; my legs were still trembling as I heard the man's words.
“The boss wants to see you.”
I followed closely behind as he led me to a bedroom down the hall. As we stood in front of a door, he gestured for me to go in and walked off.
I knocked on the door.
“Come in,” a man's hoarse voice responded.
I opened the door and slowly stepped into the bedroom; it was dimly lit, with a bed in the middle. As I walked in, the smell of cigarettes filled the air.
Close to the bedroom window was Salvatore Cross; he wore a red robe that exposed his chest, and his hair was dark blonde. Immediately, his gaze fell on me; I quickly looked down and shut the door behind me.
He pressed the cigarette in his hand onto a plate that sat on the table and walked toward me. “Kara, that’s your name, right?”
“Y…yes,” I stuttered.
He walked closer, so close that my back was pressed against the door. “Did Ben tell you your duties as my wife?”
Ben was one of the men who had brought me here; he had explained that the marriage was for Salvatore’s public image. He needed me to act in love with him when he traveled for business deals; apparently, they believed a man who was ready to settle for love was trustworthy.
“Yes…sir.”
He placed his hand on my chin and lifted it to meet his gaze; his eyes were green. “Don't look down when I speak to you,” he instructed.
I nodded, forcing myself to maintain my composure as I looked up at his intimidating figure. His gaze soon landed on my shoulder; he caught the scars on it, and his gaze narrowed in anger.
“You have bruises?”
I nodded.
Suddenly, a slap landed on my cheek, causing me to land on the floor; I could hear my ears ringing.
“Your family brought me a bruised girl?” He placed his foot on my neck and began to choke me. “If business partners saw this, what would they think? I hit you?”
I grabbed his leg and tried to take it off me, but he was too strong. “Please, don’t kill me,” I choked, but his face was red with anger.
“I can cover it up with sleeves,” I choked out.
That seemed to get to him; he pulled his leg away from me, panting heavily, and took a step back. “Get out of my bedroom; I'll ask my men to get you new clothes.” His fingers raked through his blonde hair.
I quickly got up from the ground and rushed out of the bedroom. In all my years of torture, I have never had a near-death experience like this. I had known that my life was in danger here, but not on my first day.
I rushed into my bedroom, tears streaming down my face. I slid into bed and cried my eyes out.
Later that night, I was awakened by the sound of gunshots.
I trembled as I sat up in bed. What was going on?
“f**k!” I heard Salvatore shout. “What are you up to, Ilya?”
My bros pinched together.
Ilya?
“Count your lucky stars that I'm not here for you.”
My heart skipped a bit as I heard that Russian accent; it was him, Ilya.
“There's a woman in your house, blonde hair, blue eyes, beautiful scars that tell a story,” I heard him pant as he spoke. “She's mine; hand her over.”
He…was here for me?
How did he know where I was?
I stood up from bed and walked to the door; as I stepped out, I saw Salvatore still in his robe, his men all aiming their guns downstairs.
I stepped out further and saw Ilya, dressed in all black and wi
th a gun tightly clutched in his hand; behind him were men who also wielded guns—they had come with him.
He looked up, and his gaze met mine. "Ah… there you are.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine as I saw the angry look on Salvatore’s face.
What was going on?
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