My Sinful Desire

Hidden bruises

I got inside the room, and while I was about to close the door behind me, Matthew held the door and we both entered the room. He pulled off his suit jacket and flung it on the bed.

“Unbutton my shirt,” he muttered.

I leaned closer toward him. My fingers were shaking so hard I could barely open the buttons. My heart was beating fast; I needed something to cool off.

“The dinner is tomorrow,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice even, trying to sound like the dutiful wife he wanted. “Do you want me to coordinate the kitchen staff and the decoration? Do you—”

“Shut up,” he snapped.

He shoved my hands away, sending me into a jolt. He grabbed my wrists again, his grip instantly pinching the bone, pinning my hands against his chest. His eyes were bloodshot, completely dark and cold. Then, he slapped me across my face twice.

“You think I want to talk about the kitchen staff right now?” he hissed, his breath hot against my mouth. “You think I care about the food?”

“Matthew, you said the dinner had to be perfect—”

“Because I am surrounded by fools, Elena!” He shoved me backward. My heels caught the edge of the rug, and I went down hard, the palms of my hands scraping against the floor.

He didn’t wait for me to get up. He stood over me, unbuckling his belt with heavy, jerky movements.

“Two trucks gone,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a vicious, mocking imitation of Archie. “And my son stands there looking at me like an incompetent nuisance. Like he’s just waiting for bad things to befall me.”

He stepped over my legs, pinning me to the floor with his weight before I could scramble backward. His hand came down on my mouth, crushing my lips against my teeth so hard I tasted alcohol.

“You think I’m getting soft?” he whispered, his thumb digging into my jawline until my neck popped. “You think because I brought a pretty little thing into this house that I forgot how to break a throat?”

I twisted beneath him, my fingers clawing at the hem of his shirt as I tried to push him, but he was too heavy. He used his weight to pin me down completely, ignoring my attempts to push him off as he forced his way between my legs.

He shoved my dress up over my hips, pinning my arms above my head with one hand while using his other to tear at my undergarments. The assault was raw, clumsy, and entirely driven by a desire to dominate.

He slipped his d**k inside me and thrust in and out with full force, his teeth burying into the skin of my shoulder until I bit my tongue to keep from screaming.

It wasn’t about desire; it was an eviction of his own weakness onto my body. But the frantic, furious energy didn’t last—his breathing went shallow and ragged within minutes, his chest heaving against my shoulder before he suddenly pulled away, leaving me exposed and shivering on the cold floor.

He stood up, not even looking down at me as he fixed his trousers.

“Get up,” he said, his voice still cold, completely devoid of the anger from a moment ago. He walked toward the bathroom, throwing the door open. “Clean yourself up. You have dinner to organize.

I entered the bathroom and locked it. I sat on the floor, tears rolling down my cheeks. For a long time, the only sound in the bathroom was the shower running and pouring down on me.

“Elena, where are you?”

“I am bathing, Mom. I will be downstairs soon.”

I finished bathing and went downstairs. My mom and dad were sat down already.

“Good evening, Mom. Good evening, Dad,” I greeted my parents.

My dad gave me a peck on my cheek, and we sat down and had our dinner.

End of flashback.

I rinsed my body and went to the closet, threw on a thick robe, and tied it tight around my waist.

The next morning was pure chaos. The villa was filled with lots of people. Outside, Matthew had tripled the guards, and the constant sound of boots reminded me exactly what was at stake. Inside, my job was to make everything look perfect.

After taking my bath that morning, I had to put on some makeup because of the bruise on my face. The makeup took an hour. I stood under the bathroom lights, pressing layer after layer of thick concealer over the purple bruise on my jaw.

The mark on my arm was even worse. No amount of cream could hide it, so I went to my jewelry box and snapped a heavy gold cuff over it. It was heavy and uncomfortable, but the metal was bright enough to keep anyone from looking too closely at my skin.

A knock came at the door.

“Elena?”

It was Mrs. Sofia. She was the head housekeeper, but she had been away for the last month dealing with a serious heart condition. I hadn’t expected her back so soon, but with a dinner this massive, Matthew must have ordered her return.

I pulled my hair forward to cover the left side of my face before opening the door.

Sofia stood there, looking paler and thinner than usual, holding a clipboard. She looked at my hair, then down at the gold cuff on my arm. She had worked for Matthew’s family long enough to know what happened behind closed doors, but she kept her voice strictly professional.

“The florists are here,” Sofia said, her voice a bit raspy. “They brought the white orchids for the dining table, but they need you to sign off on the arrangements before they set them up.”

“Tell them I’m coming,” I said.

I followed behind her.

I spent the next six hours downstairs, hiding in plain sight. The florists were everywhere, hauling massive vases and clipping stems, turning the grand foyer into a jungle of white flowers. I stood right in the middle of them and the kitchen staff, using the crowd as a shield to avoid Archie.

Every time a door opened, I froze. Every time a shadow crossed the floor, my heart raced. I was terrified of what would happen if he got me alone. My mind kept jumping between the memory of Archie’s hands on the terrace and the reality of Matthew on the floor last night. I was caught between both of them, and the dinner was only hours away.

Around three in the afternoon, the house finally got quiet. The florists finished their work and left, and the catering staff moved down to the basement kitchens to start cooking, leaving the foyer empty.

I took the chance to slip away and ran up the back stairs. My jaw was throbbing under the makeup, a dull ache that went straight to my head. I needed more concealer, and I needed to change into my dress before the guests started arriving.

I went inside the room and breathed a sigh of relief because I was able to avoid Archie throughout the day, and Matthew was nowhere to be found.

I walked over to the bed to grab my jewels, but the sight of the mattress made me stop dead.

There was a note on my bed.

My stomach dropped. I picked up the paper, my hands shaking as I opened it. It was Archie’s handwriting.

Let’s meet at the terrace by 4 p.m., Mom. Before dinner starts. My dad won’t be at home by then.

I stared at the paper, my chest tight. If Matthew found this, it would be a nightmare for me.

I looked up from the note, my heart hammering, and looked toward the closet. The doors were slightly unlatched. I knew I had shut them completely before going downstairs.

I opened the closet.

Hanging right in the center, completely blocking my other clothes, was a brand-new dress. It was a stunning crimson silk, the color of wet blood. I reached out and touched the fabric. It was expensive and deeply revealing. The front plunged down in a sharp V, and when I turned the hanger around, I saw the back was completely gone, cut all the way down to the waist.

A boutique tag was still pinned to the strap, and a note was pinned beside it.

I opened it, and it said:

Wear this for dinner this evening. It will look good on you, Mom.