CHAPTER4
1112 Words
POV: Rose Volkov
The reception lasted four hours. Four hours of shaking hands with strangers. Four hours of fake smiles and congratulations. Four hours of Liam's arm around my waist like he owned me.
Because he did.
Every mafia family in New York was here. I recognized some faces from my father's parties. They looked at me with pity or amusement or disgust.
Everyone knew this wasn't a real marriage.
Everyone knew I'd been sold.
"Smile," Liam whispered in my ear as another couple approached. "You're supposed to be happy."
I smiled until my face hurt.
We cut the cake. We danced to some romantic song I'd never heard before. His hand was on my lower back the entire time, holding me against him.
"You're doing well," he said as we swayed. "Almost believable."
"Go to hell."
"We're already there, wife." He spun me suddenly, pulling me even closer. "Get used to it."
Finally, mercifully, the reception ended. Guests started leaving. Monica hugged me and wished me happiness. Marco looked at me like he was attending my funeral.
Then everyone was gone.
Liam's hand tightened on my arm. "Come on."
He led me through the mansion. It was even bigger inside than it looked from outside. Marble floors, expensive artwork, high ceilings. Everything screamed wealth and power.
We climbed a grand staircase to the second floor. He opened a door at the end of a long hallway.
The bedroom was enormous. King-sized bed with black silk sheets. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens. A fireplace. Attached bathroom that was bigger than my old bedroom.
"This is our room," Liam said, closing the door behind us.
Our room. Not my room. Ours.
"Where will I sleep?" I asked.
He looked at me like I was stupid. "Here. In that bed. With me."
"No." I backed away. "I agreed to marry you. I didn't agree to... to that."
"You agreed to be my wife. That includes sharing my bed." He started unbuttoning his shirt. "Or did you think this was going to be some kind of arrangement where we live separate lives?"
"I thought..."
"You thought wrong." His shirt came off. I looked away quickly. "I paid two million dollars for this wedding, Rose. I'm going to get what I paid for."
"I'm not a prostitute."
"No, you're my wife. Which means you belong to me completely." He walked toward me slowly. "Body and soul."
I pressed my back against the wall. "Please don't."
"Don't what?" He was right in front of me now. His hand came up and touched my face. "Don't touch you? Don't claim what's mine?"
"I'm not yours."
"That ring on your finger says otherwise." His thumb traced my bottom lip. "You said 'I do' in front of three hundred witnesses. You signed a contract. You're mine whether you like it or not."
Tears burned my eyes but I refused to let them fall. "I hate you."
"Good." He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. "Hate makes things more interesting."
Then he kissed me.
I tried to push him away but he was too strong. His hands were in my hair, ruining the careful styling. His mouth was brutal and demanding.
I bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.
He pulled back with a laugh. "There's some fire. I was starting to think you'd given up already."
"Never." I shoved at his chest. "I'll never give up. I'll hate you until the day I die."
"Then I guess we'll both be miserable." He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the bed. "But at least we'll be miserable together."
"No!" I fought but it was useless. He was so much stronger. "Let me go!"
"Stop fighting." He pushed me down on the bed and pinned my wrists above my head with one hand. "It's only going to make this harder."
"Please." The tears finally came. I couldn't stop them. "Please don't do this."
For a second something flickered in his eyes. Something that might have been guilt or regret.
Then it was gone.
"You should have thought of that before you agreed to marry me." He released my wrists and stood up. "Get undressed."
"What?"
"You heard me. Take off the dress."
I sat up slowly, my whole body shaking. "And if I refuse?"
"Then I'll tear it off you." His voice was flat. "Your choice."
My hands trembled as I reached for the zipper. I couldn't get it. Couldn't make my fingers work.
Liam sighed and sat down beside me. "Turn around."
I did. He unzipped the dress slowly, his fingers brushing my bare back. I flinched at every touch.
The dress pooled around my waist. I held it against my chest.
"All of it," he said.
"I can't." My voice broke. "Please, I can't."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he stood up and walked to a dresser. He pulled out a black t-shirt and threw it at me.
"Put that on. Sleep on the left side of the bed." He grabbed a pillow and a blanket. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."
I stared at him in shock. "What?"
"You heard me." He didn't look at me. "Just... put the shirt on and go to sleep."
"Why?" I clutched the shirt. "Why are you..."
"Don't ask questions." He lay down on the couch with his back to me. "And don't think this changes anything. Tomorrow night will be different, because I will be really brutal."
I didn't understand but I wasn't going to argue. I quickly changed into his shirt and climbed into bed.
The sheets smelled like him. I lay there in the dark, listening to him breathe on the couch across the room.
"Liam?" I said quietly.
"What?"
"Where's my father? Is he okay?"
Silence. Then: "He's alive. That's all you need to know."
"Can I see him?"
"No."
"Please. Just for a few minutes. I need to know he's..."
"I said no." His voice was hard again. "Go to sleep, Rose."
I turned to my side and pulled the blanket over my head.
My father was alive. That was something.
But I was trapped in this mansion with a man who terrified me. A man who could do whatever he wanted to me and no one would stop him.
A man who, for some reason, had shown me mercy tonight.
I didn't understand him. Didn't understand any of this.
But I knew one thing for certain: tomorrow would be worse.
Tomorrow he wouldn't show mercy.
Tomorrow I'd learn what it really meant to be Liam Salvatore's wife.
I cried silently into the pillow until I finally fell asleep.
- Writer
