Page 10 of They Will Burn

The lessons my dad taught me repeat in my mind over and over again, and suddenly I wonder if some of those lessons were to prepare me for this eventuality.

Charles’s fingers grip my jaw harshly, and I steel myself against the pain, showing no weakness as he drags my gaze up to meet his. “I’m trying to be patient with you, Camilla, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise that a man such as myself is short of such things.” His breath whispers across my cheeks as he moves so close his front presses against mine, and my neck aches with the angle it’s been forced into. “This is now your home, and if you don’t want to live your life in complete misery, I suggest you get used to the idea. The quicker you start behaving, the quicker you’ll start getting more freedom. Isn’t that what you want, pet?”

The sickening nickname he’s given me makes me want to wipe the condescending smile off his face, but for now I have to play the good girl. I have to bide my time, and to do that, I have to play along with whatever sick games he wants me to play.

I nod as much as he’ll allow, and he gives me a pleased smile as he releases my chin and moves further into the apartment.

I follow him, assuming that’s what he wants me to do, and when we start climbing the stairs and the guards remain downstairs, my stomach recoils with nerves. There’s a part of this whole situation that I haven’t allowed myself to consider until this very second, and every step becomes harder than the last.

Does he expect me to fuck him?

He said before that I would have my own room until we’re husband and wife, but that doesn’t mean he’s not expecting my wifely duties to begin before I walk down the aisle.

The mere thought of him touching me like that, of him wiping away all the perfect experiences I had with my men and replacing them with nothing but him, makes me sick to my stomach.

Charles looks over his shoulder, his brows raised, and I realize I’ve slowed down. I quickly move up the steps and join him on the landing. His hand falls to the base of my spine, and I force myself not to flinch at his touch. The more he thinks he’s getting from me, the better my chance of escape is. “The bedroom at the end of the hall is mine, or, I suppose, ours soon enough.”

I nod as I try to catch a glimpse of the room, but it’s too far away for me to see more than the corner of the bed as he steers me in the opposite direction.

He opens the door at the other end of the landing and pushes me inside, almost too forcefully. It’s not what I expected a prison cell to look like, but as I look around at the white four-poster bed, stark white curtains and carpet, and the hideous floral painting above the bed, I realize that’s exactly what this is.

“This will be your bedroom for the next week,” he tells me. “You will be granted access to the rest of the apartment if you behave, and once we’re married, we will see about giving you free run of the place, provided you’re doing as you’re told.”

I bite my tongue to stop myself from telling him I’m not a dog and therefore don’t have to behave.

“For obvious reasons, you will not have access to a phone or internet until you prove to me that you can be trusted. There’s a television built into the wall, and it has all the streaming services you could possibly want.”

“Just so I’m clear on all of this, I’m going to remain in this apartment until you can trust me, but the only way for me to prove that you can trust me would be for you to take me out of the apartment?” I ask, keeping my tone even and with as little bite as I can manage.

“Once you’re my wife, there will be some events I’m forced to take you to for appearance’s sake.” Charles moves further into the room and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his eyes perusing my body. “Take off your shirt.”

“What?” I ask, looking down at the Bon Jovi shirt I’m wearing. The one that still smells like Kovu and is the main reason I haven’t lost my fucking mind yet.

His eyes flash with anger. “Take the shirt off, Camilla. I won’t ask again.”

My hands shake as they reach for the hem of the oversized shirt, and every inch I drag it up my body makes my stomach coil uncomfortably. It’s one thing to summon false bravado when you’re fully clothed, but it’s another to do so when you’re stripped bare.

Cool air brushes against my stomach as I tug the shirt higher, and suddenly I find myself wishing I was one of those women who sleep in a bra. Why do the damn things have to be so uncomfortable?

I swallow heavily, pausing for just a second to meet Charles’s gaze. I won’t bow to him. I refuse to bow to anyone, not when I spent my whole life proving why I was fit to be queen.

The dark pools are devoid of emotion as I tug the shirt over my head and drop it at my feet. I fight the urge to wrap my arms around my bare breasts to hide the way my nipples harden from the cold room.

Charles makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat as he pushes himself up from the edge of the bed. He prowls toward me, and I force my body to remain in place despite my desperate need to flee. It wouldn’t do me any good to run, not without some kind of plan. I need to play this smart, because I’ll only get one chance. If they catch me trying to escape, I’ll be locked up for the rest of my fucking life, and that’s the last thing I want.

He stops in front of me, his chest just a breath from my own. “You’re not to wear other men’s clothing in my house.” He bends and picks up the shirt from beside me, gripping it in his fist. “I suggest you forget about whatever misguided feelings you have for those men, because once this is all over, they’ll be six feet under.”

I open my mouth to ask what he means by that, but before I can get a single word out, his hand whips out and grips my hair at the nape of my neck, tugging my head back roughly until I’m forced to stare into his eyes.

“Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness, Camilla. The first sign of disobedience, and you’ll quickly learn what happens to a mafia wife when they misbehave.” The threat is clear in his words, and I snap my mouth shut before a sound can escape.

I won’t be able to run if he hurts me, and considering the last time I faced off with his men, I don’t like my chances when I have even less space to run.

“Good.” He dips his head until our lips are so close I can almost taste the cigar he must have smoked at some point tonight, and I barely swallow down the bile in my throat. “Be a good girl, Camilla, and I’ll treat you like a queen. Disobey me, and I’ll treat you like the filthy mutt the men of the Legion tried to make you.”

He steps around me before I can respond, and I’m so stunned I don’t turn around until after the door swings shut and the lock clicks into place.

I need a plan, and I need it quick.

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