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He narrowed his gaze on me, his lip curling a little. “You know my father has a lot invested in our engagement, right?”
“Yes, I know,” I said.
“So if you’re going to tell me you’re getting cold feet, don’t bother. I’m not breaking it off.”
I gaped at him.
“You want this?” I stammered.
“I want Clara Prothero, the ward of Merrick Llwyd and Edwin Prothero’s daughter, as my wife,” he said. “You, I could do without.”
I frowned, confused. “So you only ever wanted this for the status?”
“It’s an arranged marriage. Of course.”
“But…you kept asking me for sex and things…I thought you at least were attracted to me.”
“I want to fuck you,” he said, shrugging.
My body felt strange, like it was slowly icing over. My limbs tingled as I stared up at him. Had he always looked so angry? So big and intimidating?
My breathing came faster and my vision began tunneling.
A memory was resurfacing slowly. Unwelcome and dark, a horrible nightmare I’d kept locked deep in my mind.
***
I was sixteen, sitting at the dining room table. There was a faint scar across the wood and I kept my eyes on it. My father was walking down the hall, his footsteps heavy and loud.
For the first time in my life, I’d talked back to him.
He’d told me to sit in the chair while he got something. I’d sunk down, my stomach roiling, nausea pushing up my throat. My fingers dug into the edge of the chair, pain etching up my knuckles.
He appeared in the doorway. I glanced up and my body went ice cold.
There was a gun in his hand.
My body was shutting down, shivering uncontrollably. There was nothing in my brain but fear, killing my ability to think or move.
He crossed the room and knelt before me, never touching me. He never touched me, ever.
“Clara,” he said.
Tears seeped from between my lashes, dripping down my jaw. I didn’t move to wipe them, or even acknowledge their presence.
He lifted his hand and fear seared through my body anew as he put the gun to my temple.
“I can kill you,” he said softly.
I whimpered through clenched teeth. He’d never done anything like this to me before. Up until now, he’d just been distant and neglectful.
“Say you understand me,” he ordered.
I pried my jaws apart, mouth shaking.
“I…I understand, sir,” I sobbed.
He rose and laid aside the gun, sinking back down to his heels. A tinge of relief filled my chest, but it was quickly replaced by growing horror as he spread his hand out, palm up.
