THE BILLIONAIRE'S PRISONER

CHAPTER 2: THE WEDDING NIGHT

Almost unseen behind the laughter and music, the vast suite encircled me as I walked in deep calm. Three seconds before the party started, the door closed between me and it. This dragged me out of the room.

Throbbing painfully, my chest was a strong reminder of the forces driving me. The delight of a large dinner paralyzed me between the worry of what came afterwards.

Behind me Mathew stormed the house demanding control and ownership. I move and my snarl deepens.

He was as beautiful as always in his own suit; exactly as the chandelier light swept his sharply cut face.

His eyes had sharpened and glazed, so upsetting my skin dashing even whether I first considered them to be mild.

"Welcome to our new life, Sandra," he murmured blandly, devoid of the directness I had anticipated.

Though he inquired all around the opulent suite, all I could observe was the golden cage about me.

My stomach turned to a knot. Exactly what panic did I feel? Drops?

Everything under that was an amount of agitation and fury like a load atop my chest. Many years had passed when I had a dream of love and laughter; still, this marriage appears more like a life I would not have wanted ever. To me, it seemed more like a tether too.

I saw my own reflection in the mirror above the large dresser as I strolled toward the main window showing city lights.

Clean, my bridal gown announced serenity and happiness. Though the actual face was pale, anguished, weary, the window appeared to mock me. Reality hit me inside and a shiver went down my spine; events that evening began my actual independence.

Stopping, I disturbed the enclosing walls and carefully chose my words.

My trembling voice screamed — was I really ready for this?

Mathew's eyes were whirling rapidly and a n iridescent burst of fury flicked in them. We're married now, Sandra, as he moved forward and started intruding into my space; what is there to talk about?

His utterance stopped me flat-out; the weight in the air also felt heavy.

He shocked me then. I took deep gulps to battle the conflicting desires growing within me. I wanted to battle against everything—the fear eating at my center, the oppressive control, his power over my existence exerts.

Though it remained an inner requirement, the survival bus came evident. Merely about nothing would be next rousing him.

I looked down and bit my lip. Almost sotto voce, I reflected I just need a moment, and wish to have more time to think.

Once more Mathew crawled toward the window and turned his back to examine the town. Though I stopped from anxiety and uncertainty, I took a brief seclusion to clear my head.

Having been mainly thinking of fairy tales, just to be thrown into a world that felt like a nightmare. What was the cause of this?

My thoughts spun totally at the wedding coordination—laughing tears, excessive privacy times. My father's need for this wedding yelled in my mind, "You will be cared for."

Then why isn't he? Love couldn't be bought or assured from prosperous companies.

Love was a decision, a lovely dance two people yearning for the other carried out.

Stop it, Sandra, Mathew said; my abdominals taken on a maroon hue.

Proud daughters would not push their fathers. They followed even when suppressing their own impulses. One voice inside me screamed for freedom; a whisper too quiet above the noise of my questions.

Should I say I was not willing?

Should I debate Mathew? Acting on a shaking hand, opposing ideas turned my world much darker.

Ascending to him was like tripping on my feet as my heart raced with fear and rage, ardent hatred and I toppled.

Matthew fluted the door and staggered in, clutching a champagne bottle very quickly. He then tried offering it to me.

My shaking head made my heart rate rise louder. From my head on, I flatly declared, I am not hungry.

Mathew changed; irritability destroyed the early flicker of joy. "

What is wrong with you? This is a public statement, not a funeral.

He got nearer, rising above me, and I felt his warmth permeating over me, mixing with the worry already raging in my stomach. "Sandra, light up.

Others beyond you belong here. For us this is provoking.

Sweat was streaming down my back; my heart was racing. Hoping my words had never left, I murmured: I am only trying to understand.

Laughing at a sturdy, frigid barrier wall. Nothing at all makes sense.

I located you right this July. Your fitted behavior will complement mine instead.

Panic inside me erased all logical thought. Many years of hoping someone would love me unconditionally only to discover I was married to a guy who believed he owned me. This information really was heartless and terrible. Though my spirit fought bitterly, my worries grew into a constant noise urging me to post. I had small control to oppose.

I fought and attempted to subdue the hurricane inside me.

Matthew..., I said; but he caught either of my wrist.

Rage inside me melded excruciatingly with fear. Several worlds I had imagined lay between those in which I would define myself, and those in which I would anticipate respect.

Under his current real weight, those theories vanished. I felt like a cage bird—how could I soar if my wings clipped?

Mathew,' I said, my volume falling.

Wish I could have a minute to breathe anywhere.

Then he let go of my wrist, eyes narrowing. "A minute? This is your wedding night, Sandra. His fury ripped across the room, seething and sharp, like lightning.

Still trying to process all of this, I longed for a link and information. He didn't nevertheless pay notice.

The fire in his eyes bothered me as it flicked. Though disturbed, I sensed flashes of restraint; this flare was utterly different. This was the type of dark, fury-powered flame that devoured all in its path.

Then he withdrew, refilled yet another wine glass—his power, his statement crushed every bit of bravery I had found. Something fundamental raised itself and rose contentedly as I turned away. He used me more than an insignificant chess piece. The woman was breathing extremely frantically inside me. She was running.

The area felt so artificial, so marred by the stress all around us. Grabbing the glass, I moved it into my mouth to drink and my hand was shaking.

The liquid dropped down my mouth, sour and sweet.

Grinning happily, he said, right now we are headed to...

Out of the living room was a quick, deafening bang disrupting his train of thought. I turned to the door, tense and prepared for any danger beyond; my heartbeat raced, adrenaline pumped throughout my veins.

Turning only slightly towards the exit, Matthew fumed and looked startled.

What was that? my instinct guiding me.

Matthew walked to question, not sure.

Anxiety gripped me; my chest rose.

An opened door could be as comparable to a mouth wide open; now it was somewhat open, inviting and hostile. Absolutely have to follow Market trends. Behind him I inched out, my pounding heart matching my jittery thoughts.

The site ahead startled me as we closed the living room door. Littered haphazardly over the floor, a shattered vase, the remains of the gorgeous decor, glinting menacingly under the dim lights were pieces of broken glass.

Still, a form arose from the darkness clothed in shadow. I breathed and instinctively backed away although Matthew's body was strong right in front of me acting as a barrier against the intruder.

Matthew growled, ready to burst.

What do you want? Sulphur boiled somewhat below the surface.

The figure hissed hardly and fiercely, My breath clutched in my mouth. "I want what is mine by rights.

Right there my fresh reality's boundaries began to unravel into a storm of uncertainty and worry.

Who was this person Mathew? This evening had turned something wicked, a warning of danger buried just beneath the golden surface of my entrapment. More than just plans for a wedding were now here.

Heart pounding, I squeezed the glass tight, bags of rage ready to send me running as Mathew passed.

Would I ever indeed have free will in this world? My head kept repeating the terms "You'll learn to get over it."

Then I also realized that, notwithstanding the still present shadows of the past, this evening had hardly started to unravel my new life.

Dragging myself to wheeze, I fought the anarchy that had spread through what was meant to be a party.

Blackness for me had to be negotiated across whether I chose it or otherwise.

Starting without my knowledge was the actual fight.