The Wife He Wants

Chapter 4

“I know you think I hate you, Stelli.”

Stelli looked up from a book she was holding. She moped at Regina who sounded genuine, wondering at the same time what had changed.

How could the same woman who treated her rudely on the first day of her arrival at the house, become so nice to her?

All of a sudden.

“Don't think I hate you,” Regina spoke again. “I don't, Stelli. I won't be here if I did.”

Of course, Regina hated her.

Stelli did not think. She knew.

But this woman in her room, holding two glasses of wine whilst smiling, said a lot of things and she could not place them.

What exactly was going on?

Was she dreaming?

“I thought I could come over with a glass of wine - it's a peace offering.” Her thoughts were interrupted by Regina who continued as she sipped from one of the glasses. “Accept it from me, come on.” She pushed one glass away from herself so that Stelli could reach it. “I know we got off on the wrong foot. Trust me, I hate myself for sounding that way to you - but you cannot entirely blame me.”

‘Peace offering’.

For all that Stelli knew and had seen, there was nothing peaceful about Regina.

But she could not refuse this glass. Especially when she knew she would spend so much time - too many years in the mansion. Her wedding was this week.

Tomorrow, in fact.

What's the worst that could happen? Stelli asked herself before taking the glass from Regina who waited with the smile she's had since she barged into the room like it still belonged to her. “I accept your peace offering, Regina. Thank you for doing this.”

“Don't thank me. I should have done this a long time ago - and I'm sorry it took long.”

“No, don't be. It's alright.”

“I'm glad you're one of us. One of this family. And I can't wait to show you so many things I think you should know after the wedding.” She got off the bed and continued. “Let me know when you need my help. I'd be glad to offer my assistance, really.”

“Of course. Thank you, Regina.”

That was all she told her cousin before sipping from the glass.

The plan was not to sip at all.

But the way Regina hovered above her, watching. It felt like she waited to see Stelli sip from her glass - and although Stelli didn't want to, she wasn't going to disappoint Regina. So she took a sip.

It was one sip - only one.

Another thing she recalled was Regina smiling down at her. Not the kind smile she got during their conversation - something was different and she could not place it. She wanted to ask, but she couldn't. Not when a sip of that wine weakened her to her marrow.

Until she could see no more.

***

Stelli sat up on a bed she didn't recognize.

In a room she didn't recognize, either.

It didn't bother her for a moment.

She had only gotten to the Bethway Estate recently and this could be another room. Or even hers, maybe she missed some details.

What mattered more to her was her head.

Stelli’s head was splitting - so she thought. She held on to it like it would fall off while adjusting to a bed that also felt different. “Gosh.” She cried when she let go of the head. It was her wedding morning.

How could she forget she was marrying a man who couldn't use his legs properly?

And where was Essie?

Didn't she say she would come to get her ready as soon as morning came?

All these and more thoughts ran through her head, until she looked at the window side. It was still dark - some hours from her wedding.

She noticed a chair in a corner.

There was a man on it.

“You're awake.” His gravely Kentucky-accented voice hit the room. “I'm glad.”

Confusion became an understatement.

An understatement of what she went through at that moment. “Wh—who are you?” Stelli looked around, wondering what had happened. “How did you get into my room? Why are you seated there like you're waiting to harm me?”

A soft chuckle. Then he got up.

Now she could clearly see his face.

Handsome, heavy-shouldered, with the kind of build that comes from years of physical work, not a gym. Another thing she noticed was the scar on his face, and of course, he looked older. Way older than her.

He should have a daughter her age.

“This is not your room.”

This was not her room? She paid attention now.

Stelli looked around; she noticed the walls and the art paintings hanging on them. The ceiling looked different from the one she's known, and there was no couch in this room.

Perhaps, another room in the mansion.

But who was this man?

She glanced now at the bed and noticed it.

She was naked.

Stark naked.

Her hand reached for her hair and she realized how rough it was.

One by one, she put pieces together, and then it dawned on her what transpired. “No-” The word escaped her mouth softly as she snatched a duvet with which she covered herself. “Who are you?” She wanted to shout at him but she could not. “Where am I? How did I get here?”

“This is a hotel.”

Heading back to the chair he was seated on before she woke up, he reached for a jacket. From the look of things, she could tell he was about to leave - without answering her questions - questions she couldn't bring herself to ask. But wasn't it better?

She looked at this man again.

If he walked out that door, she would never find the answer to her questions - all of it. He won't tell her what exactly happened, how it happened, or how she got here. And she won't be able to explain to herself on her own. Was that what she wanted?

She was wondering while he wore his jacket.