I’ve never seen a bathroom so big in my entire life. There’s a huge shower covering the entire length of one wall, and a vanity with a marble countertop. Towels and washcloths are stored beneath the vanity, along with mini shampoos, conditioners, and body wash. I grab a towel and some of the soaps, placing them on the counter.
Peeling the dress from my body, I toss the silky fabric to the floor at my feet. When I lift my gaze to the mirror in front of me, I almost don’t recognize the woman looking back at me.
I’ve lost so much weight, my bones are protruding in places and my skin is even paler than usual, making the dark rings that have formed under my eyes stand out more.
My gaze lingers on the mirror a little longer, and I catch a look at my backside. The marks from the beating my father gave me for refusing to marry Anthony are nearly healed, but the internal wounds remain. My hands start to shake, and tears fills my eyes as I think back to that night.
“All you had to do was fulfil your duty as a woman and marry him, Sophie. You knew we needed this money.” My father’s deep growl should scare me, but nothing scares me quite like the belt in his hands. I should’ve known refusing to do as he asked would result in something like this, but I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t marry a man just for his money.
No matter if my parents wanted me to or not...which led me to this very moment. The sound of the belt snapping fills the air. I sink my nails into my palms, readying myself for the strike.
“You're a disgrace to this family. Not only will you take this beating, you'll now be sold off to another man to fulfill your duty. One who will take you as his mistress, just like the harlot you are.”
I try to get the images and feeling of the belt landing against my skin out of my mind. I can still feel the sting of the belt as it struck my skin, over and over again.
I shake my head, cold tears slipping down my cheeks. I don't think I’ll ever be able to let go of the pain I experienced that day, and I know that's how they win—making sure I remember how broken they made me.
It wasn't just the physical pain that made it so bad, but the emotional pain of my father being so unloving and cruel, realizing I’m nothing more than a dollar sign to him.
Though I expected him to hurt me, I never expected my mother to turn her back on me. That was what sent me over the edge—what truly shattered my already broken heart.
I was her daughter after all, and all she did was stand there, watching me suffer, the blood dripping down my back onto the floor. I would never forget how she idly stood by while pieces of my soul died. I wipe away the evidence of my treacherous tears from my face, and turn and walk over to the shower, twisting the knobs on.
I don't even wait for the temperature to adjust before stepping into the spray and letting the still cold water run over my skin. My whole body shivers, but at least the shock draws me away from the memory.
The water slowly turns warm, and my shaking subsides as I lean against the tiled wall. For a while, I just stand there, enjoying the warmth and comfort, but all too soon, those memories resurface, the fear and pain returning ten-fold—and this time, I can’t do anything to stop them. My mind is overtaken, and I can’t think of anything but that night and how helpless I felt. I feel like I'm in a dark hole unable to claw my way back out.
Unable to keep myself up any longer, I slump to the floor and pull my legs into my chest, wrapping my arms around myself. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to escape the nightmare.
Sobs wreck my body as my tears mix with the water washing down the drain. My mind is left in a fog of despair, and I lose track of time. I know I should pull myself up, but I just can't muster the strength.
“Sophie?” Roman’s soothing voice drags me back to reality. I pry my swollen eyes open and blink away the water sticking to my lashes. The shower curtain is drawn to the side, steam escaping into the rest of the bathroom.
I look up and see Roman crouching in front of me, eyeing me warily. His gaze isn't seductive, nor does it waver from my face.
“I knocked on the door and called your name, but you didn't answer, so I came in to check on you,” he explains. “You have been in here for a long time. Are you ready to come out?” I give him a weak nod, and he turns off the water. Grabbing a towel, he sets it on the edge of the counter close to the shower. I move my arms to push myself up off the floor, but I'm so weak, the slightest pressure causes my wrists to buckle under my weight.
“Are you going to be good…or?” He scratches at the back of his head, keeping his gaze to the floor.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. The only way I'm going to get out of this shower is if he helps me.
“I…I can't get up,” I admit shamefully, looking up at him. He still hasn't looked at me, and for a second, I wonder if he's just going to leave me here. I wouldn't blame him if he did.
“Okay…let me help you,” he mumbles, crossing the space between us. I know I should care about him seeing me naked or the marks on my back, but I don't. If he was going to hurt me, he could've done it already. He steps over the lip of the shower and bends down, placing both hands under my armpits. I shiver at his warm touch as he lifts me into the air. My legs are jelly, but I get them to hold my weight.
“Are you good?” he croaks, keeping one hand beneath my arm to steady me as he reaches for the towel.
I flex my toes against the tile and nod. My legs are weak, but I’ll manage. After all, he can't stand here holding me up all day.
He exhales, and his spicy scent engulfs me. He smells like cinnamon and cloves. I just want to lean into his chest and inhale him. He hands me the towel and releases his hold on me. I force myself to give him a soft smile as I wrap the fluffy white towel around myself. When I look back up at him, an unknown emotion crosses his face. When our eyes collide, his gaze darkens, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The air is thick between us, and I don’t understand why. I lick my lips as the thought of kissing him enters my mind.
I blink the thought away. I don’t want to kiss this man.
“I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything,” he growls, slamming the door closed behind him as he leaves.
The noise vibrates through me, and I wonder what I did to make him angry.
I force myself to dry off and find a cotton white t-shirt and pair of boxers on the counter. I slip on the oversized t-shirt, relishing in the soft fabric against my skin. It ends just above my knees, so it looks more like a dress. I grab the boxers and pull them on next, rolling the waistband until they're somewhat on, then wrap my long, dark brown hair in a towel.
I pick up my discarded dress and place it on the counter before walking to the door. He sits on the edge of the bed, his arms folded over his broad chest. When I walk toward him on unsteady feet, he gets up and steps aside, giving me room to lay back down.
“You should try to get some sleep. If you need anything, I’m in the bedroom across the hall.” He starts to walk out the door, and the thought of being alone again scares me enough to give me the courage to speak.
“Please stay,” I blurt out. “I don’t want to be alone.”
He stops mid-step, giving me an icy glare. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I don’t have the time or patience to babysit you. You are here because my brother has nowhere else to put you—that’s it.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. I want to ask him why he’s so mad, or what I did wrong, but he storms out of the room, closing the door behind him before I can.