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“Chloe?” I call.
It takes a minute before she turns to me, looking resigned.
I pass her a glass of champagne. She takes it.
“A toast,” I say, holding my glass up. “To our future. To happily ever after for both of us.” I touch her glass with mine.
She drinks the entire thing back. As she puts her glass down, I wrap both arms around her and pull her tight to me.
“I’m gonna make you so fucking happy,” I vow.
She shakes her head, then pushes me with both hands against my chest, looking angry.
I release her.
“The ends will justify the means, baby.”
She backs away from me, shaking her head with anger emanating from her entire being.
“Go ahead and get ready for me. There’s bridal lingerie in there. I haven’t seen it yet. I had the staff set it in there for you when they brought our things here. Go, put it on for me.”
Her eyes narrow. Her little fists clench.
I let out a little chuckle and refill both glasses with champagne.
“While it’d be fun to entertain your temper and bring you to heel, not today. Today, I want to make love to you to consummate our marriage, so please go put on your lingerie and come back to me, Mrs. Steele.”
Her nostrils flare and she unclenches and re-clenches her fists.
“Now, baby. Don’t disappoint me.” I flash her a smile.
She stomps to the bathroom and slams the door as hard as she can. I laugh.
I step out of the fancy bathroom into the lavish honeymoon suite wearing a white lace number that’s the epitome of bridal lingerie while also being overtly sexual. The white lace nightie falls to my ankles with a deep slit up the front of one leg as well as a plunging neckline and delicate, scalloped straps criss-crossing over my breasts and down my back.
My nipples show, but my bikini area is somewhat subdued by the underwear that came with it.
I’ve taken my hair out of the updo and it’s down around my shoulders in soft waves. Grace Steele’s hair girl did my hair with intention in this way so that it would look good both up and later down with minimal primping from me. Not that I feel the need to primp. What I do feel the need to do is carefully follow my new husband’s directions after today’s terrifying realizations. Anger and fear take up equal space in my mind right now.
No, Derek’s threats aren’t empty.
Yes, he’s even more dangerous, more unhinged than I thought. And I already thought it was bad.
Twice, he’s had guns pointed at Adam.
And now, Alannah and Craig, too.
Thank God Alannah sounded okay when I talked to her. Her voice was shaky, I know she’s affected, but in true Alannah fashion she’s more worried about me than herself. Though she’d probably say the same thing about me.
I know I’m about to get dicked down because while I’m not conceited, even I can say I look pretty sexy in this getup. Then again, Derek looks at me like he would lick caked mud off my body just to prove he wants me.
He’s sitting on the bed, back to the headboard, legs crossed while casually talking on his phone when I come out.
His eyes hit me and his expression changes. His face looks like stone all of a sudden, so fear wins out over anger.
“That’s it. Gotta go,” he says, then ends his call and puts the phone down.
He rises.
