Page 29 of Ruthless God

I don’t have time to respond because his mother comes up to me, hugs me tight, along with his father. She has bags under her eyes and a few tears slide down her face. She’s lost a lot of weight, because the last time I saw her, she was plump, but now she’s tiny. His father looks the same. Powerful, elegant, and dominant.

They say their congratulations and welcome me into the family.

The band plays a slow love song and nervousness hits me like a tidal wave. Snow grabs me by the waist, and we slow dance, everyone’s eyes on us. Cameras flash, and there is no doubt this will be all over social media tomorrow.

“You look beautiful wearing my ring, Blue,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait to shove my dick inside of you, owning your pussy again.”

I hate that he knows what I want and what I love, but I hate even more that he’s the only man who knows how to give me what I want. I’m still sore from the other night when he took my virginity. “I’m only wearing your ring for tonight. I’m not wearing your ring nor am I referring to you as my fiancé after this party.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

“You weren’t saying that when you were taking my dick like a good girl. Tell me, is my Blue sore?”

His words annoy me. “No, actually, I couldn’t feel anything with your pencil dick,” I lie.

The bastard laughs at me.

I storm off to the balcony overlooking the city. I watch as people stroll along the sidewalk and cars litter the busy street. I don’t think I’m ready for the city life once I’m married. The moon is high in the sky. I need fresh air and I need to get away from him to put some distance between us.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s not enjoying the ball.”

I glance to my left at Professor Carter who looks good in his tux. I don’t respond as I look back at the well-lit skyscrapers. He’s been my art professor since freshman year, and Bailey had a huge crush on him. He wouldn’t give her the time of the day because there is a rule that professors aren’t allowed to fraternize with their students.

He stands next to me, but not in a weird way, and his cologne filters through my nostrils. We’re in complete silence, listening to the muffled noises coming from the ballroom.

I don’t have anything to say to him. I notice a wedding ring on his finger; I had no idea he was married.

“Are you’re going to make sure you have your painting ready in the next few weeks?”

He handpicked me and a few other students to display our best work in a museum, and this can make or break my career.

“Yes.”

“Good. I can’t wait to see it, you have so much potential to be an artist.” His smile is cheery.

I wish I had the confidence in myself that I fake. My work is far from perfect, I’m constantly learning.

Someone clears their throat, a woman who has streaks of gray in her hair and is wearing a floral dress. She comes up to Professor Carter, offering me a fake smile.

“It’s time for us to leave.”

“I’m Lyrical, it’s nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand, but she just stares at it.

“I know who you are.” Her eyes move to her husband. “Let’s go.”

“Congratulations on the engagement,” Carter says.

What was that about? She comes to my event and is rude to me.

Shaking my head, I continue to gaze up at the sky.

Someone intertwines their fingers with mine, and my gaze shifts to Snow, so I try to pull away, but he keeps his fingers interlocked with mine. Usually, I’d want him to take me to the back room somewhere and own every inch of my body. I’d want him to hurt me in the most primal way, but not right now. I want to beat the fuck out of him. He grabs my forearm, dragging me to the double doors leading back to the ball.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

I want to snatch my hand away from him, but we have prying eyes on us, and if anyone gets a hint we’re not a happy couple, the media will eat it up like candy. His family doesn’t need another scandal like the car accident on their hands.

He yanks me into a storage room, and I push on his chest hard, but he doesn’t flinch. He places my wrists above my head, sliding his hand under the top of my dress, yanking my nipple, pulling hard. It stings but feels good at the same time, causing my core to tingle. He pulls away, searching the shelves for something, and he finally grabs some duct tape, tears a piece with his teeth, wrapping it around my wrists tight.

“What are you doing?” I say in a panicked tone.

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