“I already told you I wouldn’t.” He says it so calmly that I almost believe him. “I’m not your father. I don’t kill innocent people to make a point. But Connor doesn’t know that. He’ll spend the next few weeks wondering if you’re dead or alive.That’swhat he deserves. To feel a fraction of what my family felt.”
“I’m not—” My voice cracks and I have to stop and swallow past the terror threatening to choke me. “I’m not what he values most. You’re wrong about that.”
Leo’s expression shifts to something that might be pity, which is somehow worse than the cold indifference. “Yes, you are. Trust me on that.”
“My father will find me.” I’m trying for defiant but it comes out desperate. “He’ll kill you and everyone you’ve ever cared about.”
“He’s welcome to try.” Leo moves toward the door and I press myself back against the couch, trying to maintain distance between us. He notices and something flickers across his face too quickly for me to read. “The guards will bring you dinner in a few hours. There are clothes in the closet and the bathroom is through that door. I suggest you get out of the wedding dress and try to rest.”
“Go to hell,” I snarl, standing once more as if it gives my threat more weight.
He yawns. “You’ve already said that today. Try to be more creative next time, I know you have it in you.” He pauses in the doorway, one hand on the frame, and looks back at me. “For what it’s worth, Iamsorry that you’re caught up in this. You seem like you were raised better than your father.”
Leo steps out and pulls the door shut behind him.
I hear the lock click with a solid, final sound that seems to echo in the sudden silence.
I’m alone.
I stand there for a long moment but then my legs give out and I sink down onto the carpet, the massive skirt of the dress pooling around me like a white puddle.
This can’t be happening.
This can’t be real.
But it is. It’s real.
I’m trapped in a bedroom in an estate in the middle of nowhere, held prisoner by a man who wants revenge against my father for something I didn’t even know about.
The tears finally come and I can’t hold them back anymore.
I cry until my throat hurts and my eyes burn. I cry for my ruined wedding, for my terrified mother, for my father who’s probably losing his mind right now.
I cry for the life I had three hours ago, when my biggest problem was marrying a man I didn’t love.
I would take that problem back in a heartbeat right now.
Eventually the tears stop, leaving me exhausted and empty and still wearing this fucking dress.
I force myself to stand and walk to the bathroom. It’s as luxurious as the bedroom with marble and gold fixtures.
There’s even a bathtub that could fit three people.
A pile of fluffy white towels sits on the counter and expensive-looking toiletries lined up by the sink.
It takes me twenty minutes to get out of the wedding dress.
The buttons run all the way down my back and I can barely reach them, my fingers still trembling and clumsy.
When the dress finally falls to the floor with a whisper of lace and silk, I kick it into the corner with more violence than necessary.
I find a bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
It’s thick white terrycloth that’s probably also ridiculously expensive and I wrap myself in it, savoring its softness compared to the scratchiness of my wedding dress.
Then I go to explore the closet that Leo mentioned.
It’s a walk-in, bigger than my bathroom at home, and it’s stocked with clothes.