“But—”
He tugs on my arm and I gasp when I’m forced to meet his gaze as he says, “You have me to answer to first.”
11
Winter
I can’t believe this man. His son was obviously hurt, and all he’s focused on is whom I answer to?
Just what type of oppressive man is he?
I try to twist my hand free of his, but he uses his hold to haul me onto the chair. “Sit down.”
“Jeremy needs me.”
“Needs you?” he repeats with veiled menace. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Your wife. You made me into her, remember?”
“And you think that magically makes you his mother?”
Right. I’m not. Why the hell am I so angry? Adrian is his father and he doesn’t seem to give a damn, so I shouldn’t be worked up over this.
And yet I am.
Hot flames bubble in my veins at the way Adrian dismissed his son so casually. People like him don’t deserve children—or anyone, really.
He goes back to cutting his eggs like nothing happened, his fingers handling the knife with infinite ease. Pursing my lips, I opt to have breakfast, too. After all, this is the reason I’m here.
To eat.
I fix a double sandwich of butter and jelly, using three slices of toast, then take a generous bite. An involuntary sigh leaves my lips as the food settles in my stomach.
It’s not until I take a sip of the coffee, with milk, as I prefer it, that I notice both Adrian and his stern teacher watching me. Their gazes are intent, unblinking, as if I’m some sort of an animal at the zoo.
Did I do something against etiquette or something? I made sure to eat slowly.
My fake husband takes a sip of his own coffee—black like his soul—and continues to watch me over the mug. He has a killer stare, I swear. Without uttering a single word, he manages to push me to the edge of my seat.
“This is Ogla.” Adrian motions at the stern teacher with his head. “You can ask her anything about how you used to act. She knows you’ve lost your memories.”
I’m about to tell him I haven’t lost my memories, that I’m only playing a role, but then I figure out the angle he’s going for. If he tells everyone I’ve lost my memories, he and I can get away with many things when I act out of character from how Lia used to.
He’s smart, but so are most assholes.
The stern teacher, Ogla, gives me a sharp nod that I return with an unsure one.
He continues to watch me eat in that unnerving manner. I force myself to chew slower, but his stare is what will give me indigestion.
“You are allowed to go around the property except for the guest house.”
He has a guest house? It was dark last night, so I couldn’t have seen it even if I’d tried.
Now that he mentions it and has specifically told me not to go there, my attention is piqued. Curiosity is morbid, like a hungry animal demanding a piece of meat. It would’ve been better if he didn’t warn me in the first place.
“You’re not to leave the house.”
“I’m not your prisoner, Adrian.”
He raises a brow. “You are what I say you are. Titles hold little to no value and it’s up to you how you use them. If you prefer to call yourself a princess over a prisoner, by all means, do. The fact remains that you’re not allowed to step a foot outside unless escorted and with my permission.”
Did he just say escorted? “What exactly did you say you do again?”
“I didn’t say what I do.”
“Well, you should, because I’m not fully grasping these insane measures.”
He narrows his eyes on me and Ogla stares at me hard, as if I’m a petulant child whose hands she wants to smack.
“What?” I say to them both, then take a sip from my coffee. “I’m asking a genuine question. If you don’t want me to know, fine, but if you’re somehow a spy and I act against etiquette, you can only blame yourself.”
Adrian calmly places his cup of coffee on the table. “Leave, Ogla.”
I stiffen at his deceptive quietness. Maybe what I said was also considered talking back. I wasn’t snarky, though. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t.
Ogla glares at me, and even with her attitude, I’m ready to beg her to stay. I don’t want to be left alone with Adrian right now.
The door closes behind her with a finality that echoes in my chest.
The air shifts, thickening with unspoken words and tension that can be cut with a knife.
I remain completely motionless, my fingers wrapped around the cup of coffee, but I don’t dare to take a sip.
Adrian's frame becomes larger than life. He’s still sitting, yet I can almost feel his shadow looming over me like doom. “What did I say about talking back to me?”
“I didn’t mean to,” I blurt. “I was only asking.”
He stands and my spine jerks upright as he looms over me. I keep staring at the unfinished toast I left on the table, hoping that I will somehow become it or the cup of coffee or any of the utensils, just so I can escape his scrutiny.
Adrian slides both his fingers under my chin and lifts it up. I want to look away, and not solely because of the general discomfort his eyes give me. Now, they’re more concentrated, harsher, as if he’s been collecting all his disapproval with me from the moment we met until now.
“You do not disrespect me in front of the staff. You do not disrespect me. Period.”
“Okay.”
“I said to lose that fucking word.”
“Fine. All right.”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“No?”
“Why was that a question?”
“I don’t know.” All I’m certain about right now is that I want him to let me go.
The more his skin is on mine, the harder I think about the nightmare. The way his body violated mine and how I didn’t fight.
The frustration is so deep that I want to make up for it now, in real life, but even I know that if I attempt to hurt him, I’ll pay the price.
His fingers travel from my chin to my neck, eliciting shivers and goosebumps. I expect him to choke me or something, but he grips me by the shoulder, his gray eyes darkening just like in the nightmare. “Bend over.”
“W-why?”
“I said if you talk back, you’ll be punished.”
My lips part at that word. Punished. A war explodes in my chest and my thighs shake as I try to bargain, “But I didn’t mean it.”
“I don’t care. You defy me, you’re punished. It’s as simple as that.”
“I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“Unless you know your punishment, you’ll continue to do it.”
“Just give me a chance.”
“I have been lenient since last night, Lia, but you keep defying me and pushing against me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“There, a mere example. You don’t seem to understand the reality of the situation, and I’m happy to engrave it deep in your bones.”
His tone, though quiet, chills me to the deepest corner of my soul. “Adrian…please…”