Keeping his bride

Selina

A FTER DAYS OF being…well, wherever the hell I am, I wake up feeling clear-minded for the first time in as long as I can remember. I glance down at my wrists, which were previously bound. They’re now wrapped in gauze and bandages, and I’m no longer cuffed to the bed.

My brows furrow. Why is Constantine taking so much effort in nursing me back to health? Is he doing all of this so that I have my strength back before he beats me down into nothing once again?

I shudder at the thought. You never know with my captor. It’s always a mind-fuck no matter which way you spin it. He’s pretended to be nice in the past, only to break me almost beyond repair right after. Trusting him always led to some kind of punishment, but I had to learn that the hard way.

I glance down at my bandaged wrists and frown. I’ve had open wounds before, and I was always forced to take care of them myself with what little materials I had. He’s never shown me an ounce of kindness, and I have no idea why he’s doing this now. But, with knowing Constantine the way I do, there is always an ulterior motive. He’s like a snake coiled up patiently in tall grass, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike its next victim.

Lying back in my bed, I breathe in as deeply as I can and release that same breath, my chest still hurting. I have to prepare myself mentally for whatever is about to come my way. Without my pills, I’ll have to face it head-on, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

A soft knock has my eyes snapping open. I sit up quickly, maybe too quickly, because my head spins slightly before I’m able to focus on the dark figure coming through the doorway.

Dark hair. Steel gray eyes. Broad shoulders under a black, expensive, tailored suit with a black shirt and matching tie.

It’s the man who kidnapped me. The man who killed Constantine’s son right in front of my eyes. Even though I don’t remember very many details from that night, I remember Gino’s violent death vividly.

I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, protecting myself the only way I know how.

The man walks in slowly, like he’s afraid to spook me. “It’s good to see you awake…and lucid,” he comments before stopping several feet from my bed.

I stay quiet. I’ve learned over the years that my mouth can get me in trouble. It’s better to say nothing at all and wait to be prompted to speak.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice deep and calm.

Again, I just simply stare at him. His dark hair and gray eyes look so familiar… Not just from that night, but like a distant memory that my brain just can’t seem to touch upon. Maybe I’ve seen him in my past. I’ve seen so many men, unfortunately.

He’s handsome, I’ll give him that. But sometimes the most beautiful things in this world are the most toxic and poisonous. I’ve learned that firsthand the hard way.

Even though most women would probably throw themselves in front of a bus for just a chance to be with this guy, I can’t say the same. I’m more frightened than attracted to the opposite sex. Men can’t be trusted. They only want one thing. And if you don’t want to give it to them, they’ll just take it.

The man sighs and rakes a hand through his short, thick hair at my lack of conversation. I watch him closely, waiting for a sign that he’s getting upset or mad at me. Because I know what will come after that point.

Abuse. Pain.

“You can speak freely here,” he assures me. “Nothing will happen to you.”

I want to laugh in his face. That’s what they all say. Nothing will happen to you. Liars. All of them.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” he offers. “Maybe we should start there. Do you have any questions for me?”

“You work for Constantine Carbone?” I mutter. It’s not really a question, more of an accusation, but I don’t care. I need to know. I need to know who and what I’m dealing with here.

“No,” he scoffs as if it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. “I’m trying to take that bastard down,” he says, seriousness clouding his features.

His words shock me to the point where I’m speechless. My hands clench around my knees, drawing them even closer to me. Is that why you killed his son? I desperately want to ask that question, but keep my mouth shut.

“I rescued you that night at the party, Selina,” the stranger tells me, his gray eyes assessing me. He knows my name. I wonder what else he knows. “You’re safe now.”

A sob tries to bubble its way up my throat, but I swallow it down quickly as I slowly lie down on the bed. “I’ve been safe before,” I mutter miserably. Tears fill my eyes as I stare up at the ceiling, the decorative pattern in the plaster blurring together the longer I stare. I squeeze my eyes shut, stray tears streaming down my temples. Memories of that horrific night in Italy bombard my mind. I’ve had drugs to help me cope before. But now that I’m sober, I have nothing stopping me from dwelling on my past, on my trauma.

No. I can’t let myself even think about the man and his family that tried to help me. I don’t want to go into that rabbit hole of horrors of what happened to them because of me.

Panic grips my throat, and it feels like a demon clawing its way up through my esophagus. Short bursts of air escape me in panicked breaths as my lungs threaten to lock up altogether.

It was my fault.

They’re dead because of me.

“Selina!”

I hear my name being called, and it takes a few moments for me to come back to the present. The stranger is standing next to my bed, reaching out towards me. I quickly put my hand up to stop him, and to my surprise, he does.

“You’re in a secure compound,” he begins to explain. “Carbone would need an army to get to you.”

His words should comfort me, but they don’t. I’ve tried to escape Constantine before, and he has always found me. He told me once that the only way he would let me go was if one of us were dead. And I truly believe that. He has some kind of sick fascination and obsession with me. He always has, ever since I was first sold to him when I was a young girl. I was his little pet. My body begins to tremble at just the thought of his nickname for me.

“He’ll come for me,” I say resolutely with a heavy sigh. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“He’ll have to kill me first,” the man says with such resignation that I almost believe him.

I don’t know who the hell this guy thinks he is, but if he thinks he’s any match against Constantine, he’s got another thing coming. That man is the devil himself, all-powerful. Nothing can stand in the way of him getting what he wants. And he wants me and revenge for his son’s murder, I’m sure. It’s only a matter of time before the guy standing before me is as good as dead.

“Considering you killed his son, I’m sure he will kill you first,” I state matter-of-factly.

A smile appears on the handsome man’s face. “I’d like to see him try.”

Cocky. Confident. He won’t be feeling so confident when Constantine is ripping him to shreds with his own bare hands for killing his son and for taking what’s his.

“I’m tired,” I lie, rolling over to my side and closing my eyes, effectively blocking out the stranger. The truth is, I just want to be left alone to process everything.

The man doesn’t say anything. I hear his footsteps retreat as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I expect to hear a lock clicking in place, but there are no other sounds except his footfalls fading as he walks away, leaving me alone just like I wanted.

I breathe in deeply and let out a long sigh. Am I truly free of Constantine, or is this just simply another one of his tricks to test my allegiance to him?

Only time will tell I suppose. Until then, I’ll keep my guard up and not allow my walls to come down for anything or anyone.