Patience, wife
1467 Words
The iron gates slid shut behind the SUV with a heavy clang that echoed through the night. I turned instinctively, watching them seal off the road behind us until the outside world disappeared completely.
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
Final.
That was the only word that came to my mind. This was really it.
As the SUV rolled deeper into the estate, I took in my surroundings. Armed guards stood at every checkpoint, their faces unreadable beneath the floodlights. Security cameras tracked every movement. Black luxury cars were parked in neat rows beside manicured gardens that stretched farther than I could see.
Darien Russo didn't live in a house. He lived inside a kingdom. And kingdoms weren't built for people to leave whenever they pleased.
The SUV came to a smooth stop beneath a grand stone entrance. Before I could reach for the handle, Darien stepped out and walked around to my side. He opened the door and held out his hand.
I looked at it. Strong fingers. Steady. Patient. For one ridiculous second, I almost took it.
Instead, I climbed out on my own.
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
His gaze lingered on me a second longer than necessary. Then, without another word, he turned and walked toward the entrance.
I followed.
The mansion was breathtaking.
Dark marble floors reflected the glow of crystal chandeliers suspended from impossibly high ceilings. Every painting, every vase, every piece of furniture looked carefully chosen, as though nothing had been allowed to exist there without Darien's approval.
It wasn't simply beautiful. It was controlled. Every inch of it.
A woman stepped into the foyer before we reached the staircase. She appeared to be in her late fifties, dressed in a perfectly pressed black uniform. Silver threaded through her dark hair, and although her expression was calm, there was a quiet confidence about her that immediately caught my attention.
"Mrs. Bianca," Darien said.
She inclined her head. "Mr. Russo."
"Show Elara to her room. Make sure she's comfortable."
"Of course."
Her eyes met mine briefly. There was no pity in them. No curiosity either. Only the composed expression of someone who had learned long ago not to ask questions.
"This way, Miss Voss."
She already knew my surname? How?
I followed her upstairs.
The silence inside the mansion was unnerving. It wasn't empty. It felt... watchful.
After a few moments, she spoke.
"Mr. Russo values order."
I glanced at her. "Meaning?"
She smiled faintly.
"Nothing in this house is ever left to chance."
For reasons I couldn't explain, that answer unsettled me more than if she'd warned me to fear him.
Mrs. Bianca pushed the double doors open and stepped aside.
"This will be your room, Miss Voss."
I walked in slowly. The room was breathtaking.
Moonlight spilled through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting silver light across polished wooden floors. A king-sized bed sat in the center beneath a dark velvet headboard, its charcoal sheets perfectly made. Beyond the glass, the gardens stretched into the distance, interrupted only by the soft glow of a fountain.
It was beautiful.
Beautiful enough to make me forget, for the briefest second, why I was here. Then I saw the closet. The doors had been left open.
Rows of dresses hung neatly by color. Shoes were arranged beneath them with impossible precision. Handbags rested on illuminated shelves, and every piece looked brand new.
I frowned.
"This can't be..."
Drawn by a growing sense of unease, I walked inside. My fingers brushed the sleeve of a cream-colored blouse.
It was my size.
Every dress looked like something I would have chosen myself. Even the flats were the exact style I usually wore. A chill crept down my spine.
I crossed into the bathroom. My breath caught. My shampoo. My moisturizer. The face wash I'd been using for months. Even my perfume sat unopened on the marble counter.
For a long moment, I simply stared. This wasn't a guest room. It was a room prepared for someone specific.
Prepared...
For me.
Every single item was something I liked. Every. Single. One. How did he know all of this?
Had my brother been planning this for a long time? Had he been feeding Darien Russo every little detail about me... what I loved, what I hated, what made me smile?
The thought made my stomach twist. I didn't know which betrayal hurt more—the fact that Marcus had sold me... or that he'd been preparing me for it all along.
A knock sounded behind me before the bedroom door opened. Darien walked in without waiting for permission.
His suit jacket was gone, leaving him in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. The tattoos winding beneath the fabric disappeared beneath his cuff, offering only a glimpse of what lay underneath.
His eyes found me immediately.
"You've seen the room. Is there anything that you do not like?"
I folded my arms.
"How did you know all of these things about me?"
His expression didn't change.
"I like to be prepared."
Prepared.
As though arranging another person's life was no different from planning tomorrow's schedule.
"Marcus must have had this planned for long time now."
He smirked and moved closer.
"Tell me, Elara. Does Marcus know all of these things about you?"
I froze. I opened my mouth to respond but words failed me. Marcus had never really paid attention to my life. The last time I asked him to get me something in my favourite colour, he told me he didn't know what my favourite colour was. He didn't even know something as simple as that.
So then, what was happening here?
"How long had he planned on selling me off?"
His gaze held mine. He didn't respond. He simply stared at me.
"You knew my clothing size."
"Yes."
"My skincare."
"Yes."
"My perfume."
Another nod.
I let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it.
"I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified."
"You'll decide that yourself."
Silence settled between us. It was broken by the faint rumble of my stomach.
Heat rushed to my face.
Of all the moments...
Darien glanced toward me, the faintest hint of amusement flickering across his features.
"You haven't eaten."
I looked away.
"I wasn't exactly thinking about dinner."
"You should have been."
I frowned.
"My brother nearly died. I signed my life away to save him. Forgive me if food wasn't my priority."
His voice remained infuriatingly calm.
"I'm asking you to eat."
I studied him for a long moment.
"I am telling you that I do not want to."
He stared at me. I took a slow breath.
"You offered me a marriage that wasn't really a choice. You bring me here, to a room you've apparently been preparing long before tonight..." I shook my head. "And now you're worried about whether I've had dinner."
"I'm making sure my wife doesn't collapse."
The words landed harder than they should have.
My wife.
The title still didn't feel real. I searched his face for some sign that this was all a cruel joke.
There was none.
He believed every word he said.
"Why me? How does marrying me clear off a three hundred thousand dollars debt?"
The question escaped before I could stop it. Something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.
"You ask a lot of questions."
"I deserve answers."
He closed the distance between us, one hand settling firmly around my waist before pulling me against his chest.
I pushed against him instinctively, struggling to free myself, but he didn't budge.
My breathing grew uneven as I glared up at him.
"Patience, wife." His voice was low, almost amused. "We've got time."
His thumb brushed lazily against my waist.
"You'll get every answer you're looking for." His lips curved into a faint smile. "But first... you're going to eat."
My jaw tightened.
"I'm not hungry."
"That wasn't a request."
His gaze drifted briefly to my lips before meeting my eyes again.
"Mrs. Bianca will bring your dinner."
Without waiting for a response, he released me and turned toward the door.
A second later, he was gone.
The soft click of the door echoed through the room. Silence settled around me. I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, half-expecting him to walk back in.
He didn't.
The strength I'd been forcing myself to hold onto all evening suddenly slipped away.
Slowly, I sank to the floor beside the bed, wrapping my arms around my knees as I buried my face against them. The tears came before I could stop them. Everything had happened so fast. A few hours ago, I had been Elara Voss.
Now...
I wasn't even sure who I was anymore.
- Writer
