SHE CAN'T BE TAMED

Thoughts

Arla's eyes abruptly snapped open, her slumber disturbed by the restless night that left her hair tangled and disheveled. As she slowly sat up, her gaze swept across the room, adjusting to the warm, golden rays of sunlight that insistently attempted to pierce through the gaps in the curtains. The once vibrant and immaculate furnishings appeared still and hushed in the morning light, their cheerful colors in stark contrast to the heaviness that weighed upon her heart.

Arla released a deep, melancholy sigh, her eyes darting back and forth as she grappled with the emptiness that consumed her. She had truly believed that marriage would provide an escape from the facade she had been forced to wear, a mask that hid her vulnerability from the world. Despite projecting an image of unwavering strength, Arla continued to battle the demons of her past, the trauma that had overwhelmed her after her mother's untimely death.

As she struggled to come to terms with her new reality, Arla couldn't help but recall the year of crippling depression that had rendered her speechless. She had felt utterly abandoned by her family, who seemed indifferent to her suffering. To make matters worse, her stepsisters had taken advantage of her fragile state, subjecting her to constant abuse that left her feeling alone and helpless.

The one person who had acknowledged Arla's existence and treated her with kindness was Mia, despite her mother's disapproval. Arla couldn't help but feel grateful for having a sister like Mia in her life. As she absentmindedly touched her necklace, the only remaining connection to her mother, Arla's thoughts wandered to her new husband, a man she neither understood nor loved, yet found herself strangely attracted to. She had believed that marrying him would free her from her father's grasp, which was why she hadn't declined the arrangement. But now, she found herself married to someone who reminded her of her father, a man who had remained indifferent to his wife's death and the suffering of his own daughter, choosing instead to engage in numerous affairs and father multiple children outside of his marriage.

Arla gazed at her palms and sighed once more, her voice barely a whisper as she confessed her deepest desires: "All I want is peace and quiet, and to be loved by someone. I don't even know what it feels like to be truly loved." Tears welled up in her eyes as she uttered a longing, "Mom, I miss you."

Wiping her face, Arla stepped into the shower, letting her silver robe fall to the floor. She walked naked into the steamy cascade, running her hands along her neck, which still bore the faint marks of last night's passion. Her heart fluttered as memories of his touch, his scent, and his dominance flooded her mind, the way he kissed her, the way he made her moan. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, and she gave her head a forceful shake, attempting to dispel the heat that threatened to consume her. Increasing the water pressure, Arla sought to wash away the lingering sensations that clung to her body.

As the steam filled the bathroom, Arla couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the intensity of last night's encounter and the emotional turmoil she now faced. She closed her eyes, allowing the water to cascade over her, wishing it could wash away her worries and uncertainties as easily as it cleansed her skin.

Stepping out of the shower, Arla wrapped herself in a soft, plush towel, the fabric a comforting embrace against her vulnerable state. She stood in front of the mirror, her reflection a testament to her inner conflict, a young woman caught between the shadows of her past and the uncertain future that lay ahead.

Determined to find a semblance of normalcy in her new life, Arla focused on the tasks at hand. She got dressed, her clothing a physical armor that concealed the turmoil hidden beneath the surface. With each item she donned, she felt a small piece of her resolve fall into place.

As Arla made her way downstairs, she noticed that the house was unusually quiet. She proceeded to the dining room, where she requested a maid to prepare her a simple breakfast. As she sat down, her thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the previous night, her new husband, the man who had stirred something inside her that she couldn't quite comprehend. Despite her attempts to deny it, she found herself drawn to his enigmatic presence, his touch filling a void she had felt all through her life.

The sound of heels clicking against the floor disrupted her musings, and Arla looked up to see Vivian and four other stunning ladies enter the dining room. Not wanting to engage in an argument, Arla simply greeted them with a polite "good morning," which was met with silence. Unfazed, she continued to focus on her thoughts.

As the ladies took their seats, Laurette, Liam's stepmother, continued to glare at Arla, who paid her no heed. Finally, Laurette broke the silence, stating, "If you are new, you should learn the rules." Arla stared at her, confusion etched on her face. Her pink lips formed a pout as she asked, "What rules are you referring to?"

Laurette couldn't help but wonder why Liam had taken an interest in Arla in the first place. In her eyes, Arla was a rude and uncultured woman who posed a threat to the authority Laurette had carefully established over the years within the estate. Liam, her stepson, had entrusted her with full control over both the household and the company his father had left behind. After tragically losing both his parents, Liam had undergone a drastic change, becoming the leader of a dangerous mafia ring.

Laurette had forced Liam to marry Arla in an effort to save the company from going bankrupt, a fact she didn't want Liam to discover. Now, she needed to assert her control over this new girl before she disrupted the dynamics of the household. Laurette was well aware that Liam had a soft spot for Vivian, despite his numerous affairs; he had never been with any woman more than once, except for Vivian. However, to her shock, she learned that Liam had spent another night in Arla's room.

Laurette was further displeased by the fact that Arla had not shown her the respect one would expect from a daughter-in-law. Determined to maintain her grip on the household and ensure the other girls didn't follow suit, Laurette knew she had to put Arla in her place.