To Love or To Hate you

Chapter 3

Vanessa’s POV

There are so many things running through my mind right now. My father didn’t just sell me to one person, but two—two different people. My body tensed, heat flushing through my body. I want to strangle that man. My father. My own blood. Why?

A hand touches mine. I look down to find Adrian’s large palms over mine. I didn’t realize I had fisted my fingers so hard my knuckles turned white.

“No one will touch you,” he says calmly.

My shoulders sag, my fists unfurl. For the first time, I let myself trust someone. He might not be a good man, but his reassurance made me feel a bit safe. I nod. I try not to look at the weapon in his hand as he goes to the cockpit.

After a while, I no longer hear the noise from the other plane. My muscles loosen, and I didn’t even know I had been holding my breath. Adrian exits the cockpit, striding back to sit.

“Is everything fine?” Worry coats my words.

He only nods and gets back into his seat. This time, he sits opposite me. My mind drifts back to my father. I thought I knew him well, but I’ve just realized he might be worse than the devil.

After we landed in London, the black luxury car we took slowed through tall iron gates. The London fog clears, and in front, there’s a beautiful white-stucco mansion. The gardens around it are well-trimmed with white flowers, and there’s a large water fountain at the front of the house. The inside feels like a museum—silk ceiling-to-floor curtains, a marble staircase, and antique furniture and décor. It looks unused.

“This is where you’ll be staying—with me,” he stated.

I only nod. I wonder if this place has ever known laughter.

After settling in, I took a shower and had a nice dinner of beef Wellington. Adrian and I ate in silence. I tried to start a conversation, but I didn’t know what to say. My mind drifted back to the plane when he said he protects what’s his. I want to ask what he meant, but I don’t want to cross him.

I was bored, so I asked one of the butlers to show me around. During the tour, Mr. Philip, the butler, points at a room. “Boss doesn’t let us in there. He cleans it himself and he’s very protective of that room.”

“Why?” I question.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s in my place to say that,” he whispers.

“Fine, thank you for the tour,” I mumble.

What could he be hiding in there? I’m curious, but I shove it off. The butler scurries away, and I’m left wandering around the other areas.

“Are you lost, wife?”

The voice startles me, making me jump. I let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m—sorry, I was just looking around,” I state.

He pockets his hands and approaches me. I can smell his cologne and aftershave. I move backward instinctively, but he catches me and places me against the wall. My chest rises and falls with haste. Vanessa, this is where you push him and run off, I tell myself, but my body doesn’t move.

He locks both of my wrists with one palm and places them above my head. I raise my head slightly to meet his eyes. His jaw tightens when I wet my bottom lip. I flick my eyes away, but he brings my face back to stare at him with his free hand.

I don’t know why it aches so bad down there. I try to release myself from his grasp, but he only presses into me more. A soft whimper escapes my lips. I couldn’t help but grind my hips against his thigh. Another whimper escapes from the pleasure it brings me.

His mouth curls into a half-smile, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. His breath is hot against my skin. Now I’m regretting wearing such a small and flimsy dress.

His fingers graze my temple, working their way down to my cheeks. My head tilts, and I bite my bottom lip when his hand grazes my neck. He keeps strolling his fingers down the path, sparking every nerve in me alive—then his hand stops, right above my breast.

“Has anyone ever touched you like this?” he murmured slowly.

I shake my head, my eyes still locked on him.

“Use your words, darling.”

“No.”

“Good girl,” he teases.

My body doesn’t seem to understand who’s the boss here because it keeps reacting to him, even when I try to shut it out. My mouth begs to have a taste of those lips. One taste, Vanessa. One.

Another voice counters. This man sees you as a thing. Something that can be bought. The thought kills every butterfly that had been fluttering in me.

“I need to use the restroom,” I breathe.

His eyes narrow before he releases me. I step away from him, leaving him alone in the aisle. I almost turn back, but I hold the urge in. The warmth of his touch still clings to my skin, and I hate that I miss it already.

He doesn’t love you. You’re just property to him. I remind myself again.

By the next morning, Adrian had left home, saying he had urgent work meetings to attend to. My mind drifts to the closed room I saw yesterday—the one that is always locked and can only be opened by Adrian. My curiosity takes over, and now I’m by the locked door, except it’s slightly ajar. I look around, and when I notice no one is near, I peek in.

All I can see are flowers. A little noise startles me, and I fall into the room. My pulse quickens. What if I get caught? I shouldn’t be snooping in other people’s spaces, so I turn around—but as I do, I see a picture of a beautiful woman.

I move closer to get a good view. She has the same eyes as Adrian, and her features—delicate. That’s when I see it… a newspaper tucked under the frame. I pick it up and read:

English heiress commits suicide, leaving her son, husband, and a huge inheritance.

It was her—the woman with a striking resemblance to Adrian.

The air shifts, and I swear I hear footsteps before the door slams open.

“And since when did I give you permission to snoop around my things?” Adrian growls.

The frame I held clatters to the ground, shards of glass littering everywhere.