Sleeping With The Devil

Chapter Five

A Game of Control

Willow’s POV

As I lie awake in our big bed, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling, Adrian's comments keep coming back to me. The stress from the past still hovers in the air, harsh and suffocating, and I wonder how I ended up here—married to a man I can't trust in a life I barely know. Every time I try to catch the actual Adrian, I just find still another layer of gloom under.

Though I attempt to close my eyes, recollections of the way he looked at me tonight—calculating, possessive, unyielding—come pouring back every time. I toss the blankets off and slide from bed. I will go crazy staying here. I silently take a robe and start down the hall, the quiet of the mansion weighing on me.

A voice breaks through the silence as I head to the study in search of some answers among the papers Adrian stashed away.

Not being able to fall asleep?

Turning to discover Adrian in the doorway, arms crossed, his look incomprehensible. I add, trying to hide my trembling palms by folding my arms, "You scared me."

He enters the room, not turning away from me. "I felt we had gone past secrets, Willow. But here you are, crawling amid the night.

I try to meet his sharp gaze with as much defiance as I can muster while swallowing the remorse that surges up. "I find it difficult to fall asleep knowing I don't know the person I'm married to."

Adrian's face is still blank, but beneath his eyes, there is a flutter of challenge. "Then maybe you should ask instead of looking for answers in venues you don't belong to."

Though there is no humor about it, I laugh quietly. "Is that what Adrian believes?" That I am a naive young lady who will unquestioningly believe whatever narrative you present?

He lifts a brow, obviously delighted. "Benevolent?" Not sure. Resilient? Correct. And perhaps that has some bearing on the issue.

I forward, cutting the distance separating us with a strong voice. "Issue?" I did not start this disaster. Behind my back, you and my father created this agreement. I only want to know why.

His jaw closes, and tonight his eyes soften, just a little. This is the first. "It was never supposed to be like this."

Then why? If you did not want it, why would you follow along?

His stillness is deafening; he turns away, his face hardening once more, just as I believe he is ready to respond. "Because Willow, some things are set in motion long before we are even aware of them."

I study his face, but he is back to his normal self—cold, austere, a fortitude I cannot breach. "That's not good enough, Adrian," I say, my voice hardly audible. "Not now."

He groans and runs a hand through his hair. This marriage, this... alliance is as much for your advantage as it is mine.

"Advantage?" I laughed and crossed my arms. And what precisely is this arrangement helping me to get?

His eyes harden, a flash of something like resentment igniting in them. "With me, you are safer than anywhere else. Your father never advised you of some things, Willow. Regarding his company and the ones seeking to harm him—and so you as well.

Heart pumping, I fix my gaze on him. "What are you saying?"

He approaches closely, his voice low. "Your father created strong adversaries; hence, you are saying that. And for this reason, he sought this marriage as well as under my protection.

My head flips. Real is not what this is. Although I understood my father's company was not precisely harmless, were they enemies? Danger: The bits begin to fit, yet every revelation only makes me more perplexed. And you said yes to this? Like that. For my protection?

"Your protection," he continues, his voice quiet yet firm, "and for control." Working with your father solidifies my position and provides me with authority difficult to challenge.

I shook my head, as though I might be sliding into quicksand." So it's only business to you. Control; Power.

He leans out, gently but firmly gripping my arm, looking at me. I never said it was only business. Though you think you know everything, Willow, there is much you do not know.

Tell me then, too. I cry, detesting the desperation in my voice. Explain why you keep excluding me.

He just looks at me for a long time, his eyes flickering with a mix of irritation and something else—something I cannot identify. Then it disappears just as rapidly.

His voice was almost above a whisper: "It's better if you don't know everything." "For Your Own Good."

I free my arm, rage surging inside me. "Don't treat Adrian like a target market. I am not some fragile flower unable to face the truth. If you want me to stay and make this marriage work, be honest. You must start to trust me.

His look gets stiffer, and I can see walls rising once more." Trust has two directions, Willow."If you wish for honesty, stop hiding and start directly asking questions.

I did ask, then I snapped back, raising my voice. And all you have handed me are evasions and half-truths.

He shuts his eyes momentarily, as though gathering himself, then opens them with a frigid will, replacing all hints of sensitivity. "Fine," he says, his voice low and threatening. Do you seek honesty? Right, this is it.

Pulling out his phone, he phones a number, and shortly a man in a dark suit shows up at the door. One of Adrian's several security guards, always lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting.

Adrian orders, his eyes never leaving mine, "Take her to the safe room."

My eyes go wide. The safe room, then? Adrian, what are you—”

His voice chilly, he says, "It's not a request." You sought responses. And you are going to have them. I first want to know, though, that you are safe.

The guard moves forward, ready for me to go, but I stop dead still, my mind flying. safe from what?

The face of Adrian softens momentarily. Drawing from them. Willow, you are someone they know now. And they will arrive.

A cold rushes down my spine, and I back off shakingly. "Who's coming?"

Nevertheless, he doesn't respond. Rather, he gestures to the guard, who softly grabs my arm and starts me down the hall. My pulse thumping, I glance over my shoulder and see Adrian staring at me, his face blank, his eyes full of something I cannot understand—perhaps remorse, fear, or regret.

He says, his voice resonating down the passage just before I become invisible. I will come to see Willow. Simply stay there. Depends on me.

Then the door shuts behind me, quiet falling over me as my mind whirls with questions and mounting dread.

I can't get rid of the sense that everything I knew about Adrian—and my father—is a lie as the guard leads me down a twisting staircase into the bowels of the mansion. And that whatever is approaching us is worse than anything I could have envisioned.