Forbidden Passion : Loving My Husband's Step-Brother

Elora’s POV I'm sitting on a bed covered in satin sheets— rethinking my decision. I was going to die. The ring is around my finger, reminding me that all this was real. I am married now; married to a killer. A dangerous mafia don. Damien Alejandro. I reminded myself again that I had agreed to this. Father saw the opportunity to climb higher on the power ladder. The only way to have more control over the underground was to become family with the rulers. The Alejandro family. It was for this reason that Father married me off to him. Sold me off. Now I'm sitting on Damien's sheets, waiting for him to come in and take me. My hands are shaking; I grip the pillow to steady them. I remember my stepmother's words to me. “We're sending you off as a symbol of partnership with the Alejandros. Do not disappoint us, Elora. Do not disgrace your family.” I won't. My heart is pounding, but I sit up on the bed and pretend like all is fine. The door creaks open. It's my husband. Damien. He's in a white button-down shirt and black slacks. His hazel eyes land on me; he scans me from head to toe and looks away. “Why are you here?” he asks coldly. The door opens again; it's a lady in a red mini-dress. “I-I…your sister said I should come here. We…we're married.” The thing is, Damien and I did not have a proper wedding. It only involved signing papers in the Matheo mansion and his men whisking me off in a black Audi. My husband looks back at me with one emotion on his chiseled face: disgust. “Get out,” he hisses. I lost my bearings, glancing between him and the lady blowing gum. He runs his hands through his thick brown hair. “Get out!” I shriek and jump out of bed. The woman in red giggles and shuts the door behind me. Now, I'm left confused in the grand hallway. It's the middle of the night and I do not know my way around the house. I bit my lips trying not to cry. It's impossible; My heart is already bursting with pain. To make my family love me a little, I agreed to be carried off like a common dog; married to a man who wouldn't even look at me. My knees buckle and I fall to the cold tiles, silently weeping. The door to Damien's room is a tad open; I clean my tears and crawl towards it. Out of stupid curiosity, I peep through. I don't know what I expected to see, but I'm still appalled nevertheless. My husband is naked, skin glistening in the soft orange light. I can't see the lady but her legs are spread wide, resting on his shoulders as he goes back and forth. I shake my head slowly and wipe my tears. It's not important. He's a stranger after all. I mean, it was better her than me. I imagine it now, being f****d by a man I didn't know. A man I had literally married by contract. Shivers run through my body thinking of it. Horrible. I'm afraid to leave this hallway, so I lie there, on the cold tiles, forcing myself to sleep to the sound of moans and gasps. The following morning, a maid with a vacuum wakes me up. Her plump face is leaning over mine; an expression of judgement playing on it. “Miss, I need to clean?” I nodded stupidly and wiped away the drool on my face. There's an identical puddle on the ground. She looks at me with disgust, so I shakily apologize and get up. Damien's door is shut, so I can't enter there. Not that I would anyway. I swallowed my shame and asked the maid where the bathroom was. She raises an eyebrow at me. “Go downstairs. You'd find the visitor's restroom in the living room.” I want to tell her I don't know which passage even leads to the stairs but I don't. Instead, I thank her and make a guess, going right. As I walk, I look over the regal paintings of the Alejandros. They were all paintings— no photographs. I come to a halt when I see Damien's. He's in a blue suit and his hair is tousled. Unlike the man I saw last night, this one has a bright smile. It's hard to believe actually. Next to his picture is someone I did not meet when I came to Alejandro Villa. I had met virtually everyone but him. The painting is of a man with gaunt, hollow features. Like a skeleton— as though if the grim reaper were real, it would be him. There's a slight twitch at the edge of his lips. Although he was just a painting, his expression makes me feel as if he knows something I don't. I shiver and continue walking. Strange family. I find the stairs soon enough and ask another servant for directions to the toilet. He looks at me in a funny manner and points upstairs. I have to clarify that I am looking for the visitor's restroom. This makes him frown even more. “Over there,” he says. Before I can get a word of thanks out, I hear Damien's voice boom from somewhere in the great mansion. “GET OUT!” Sounds of clashing items and glass breaking follows immediately. I hear a female scream and curses flying. “Get out of my house right now!” Damien suddenly emerges at the top of one of the double winged stairs. He's pulling the lady he brought in yesterday by the hair. She's stark naked and crying profusely. “Please! D-don’t do this sir! Sir, please!” Damien drags her right past me and orders the servants to open the mansion doors. They do as he orders immediately and he throws her to the ground. “Don't let me see you again or I'll kill you! Guards! Take this filth out of here.” I'm standing by the stairs, wide eyed, unable to process what is happening. What's going on?