Page 20 of Ensnared
He stood up, the movement smooth and commanding, and walked around the desk to stand in front of me. He extended his hand, palm open, waiting for me to place mine in his once more. It was a gesture of control, of dominance, and I knew that in taking his hand, I was surrendering to him entirely.
“Josephine,” he said, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “Trust me, you won’t regret this.”
I looked up at him, searching his eyes for a trace of the man who had kissed me so passionately just moments ago, but all I found was a wall of indifference. Colson Ashworth was a man who knew what he wanted and took it, without hesitation and without remorse.
Slowly, I placed my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. It was a final act of surrender, a silent acceptance of the life I was about to enter. I stood, and he pulled me close, his other hand coming up to brush a stray tear from my cheek.
“You’ll be happy with me,” he murmured, as if trying to convince us both. “I promise.”
But as I looked up into his eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder if that promise was meant to comfort me—or control me.
Chapter 8
Colson took my hand, his grip firm and unyielding as he led me out of his office. The tension between us had shifted, no longer just an agreement on paper but something that felt much heavier. He guided me toward the grand staircase that curved elegantly up to the second floor of the mansion, the polished hardwood steps gleaming under the soft glow of chandeliers.
Each step we ascended echoed faintly in the vastness of the house, the kind of silence that only wealth could buy. The staircase was a testament to the grandeur that surrounded me—opulent, cold, and utterly foreign. I couldn’t help but feel small in comparison, my life before this moment seeming like a distant memory.
When we reached the top, Colson turned to the left, leading me down a long corridor lined with portraits of people I didn’t recognize but who must have been part of the Ashworth legacy. At the end of the hall, he stopped in front of a set of double doors and pushed them open, revealing what would be my new bedroom.
The room was massive, easily ten times the size of my old bedroom. The ceilings were high, adorned with intricate molding, and the walls were painted a soft, muted cream that added to the air of understated luxury. A large four-poster bed dominated the center of the room, draped in rich, dark fabrics that looked like they belonged in a museum.
A fireplace, large enough to stand in, sat against one wall, its mantel decorated with antique vases and framed photographs that looked out of place next to the modern, oversized flat-screen TV mounted above it.
To the right, a set of French doors opened onto a balcony that overlooked the expansive estate grounds. I could see the perfectly manicured gardens below, the maze-like hedges and the shimmering blue of a swimming pool far off in the distance. This wasn’t just a bedroom—it was a statement, a reminder of the life I was now a part of.
Colson released my hand and walked toward another set of doors on the opposite side of the room. He pushed them open, revealing the bathroom, and I followed him inside.
The bathroom was even more extravagant than the bedroom. It was a sanctuary of marble and glass, with a massive soaking tub positioned beneath a crystal chandelier. The tub was so large it could have been mistaken for a small pool.
Across from it, a walk-in shower with multiple showerheads was enclosed in glass, and a long vanity with double sinks stretched along one wall, each sink framed by gilded mirrors. Everything gleamed under the soft, ambient lighting, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and luxury.
“You can decorate it however you want,” Colson said, his voice pulling me back to the present. He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “But you’ll only be here for a couple of months, while we finalize the arrangements for the wedding.”
I nodded, still taking in the sheer opulence of the room. It was almost too much to process. “A couple of months?”
“Yes.” He walked back into the bedroom, his tone shifting as he continued. “In the meantime, you’ll be in training.”
“Training?” I echoed, following him out of the bathroom. The word felt out of place, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what he meant.
“You’ll receive lessons in etiquette, dancing, languages, and food and drink—essentially everything we learn growing up.” He spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world, but it felt like he was describing another planet.
I stared at him, trying to keep up with the flood of information. Training? Lessons? The idea of being molded into something else, someone else, was jarring. But should it really have been a surprise?
This was Colson Ashworth, a man who controlled every aspect of his life with precision. Of course, he would want to shape me into the perfect wife, someone who could fit into his world seamlessly.
“I had a… modest life,” I began, my voice trailing off as I struggled to articulate what I was feeling. “I wasn’t exposed to any of those things.”
Colson regarded me for a moment, his gaze softening slightly, but there was still a distance between us, an understanding thatI was now part of something far beyond my previous experience. “That’s why you’ll be trained,” he said simply. “You’ll learn everything you need to know to navigate this world. To navigatemyworld.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with expectation. This was my reality now—a life of privilege, but also one of strict control and expectations. And while I was still reeling from the shock, I couldn’t deny the undercurrent of inevitability. I had made a choice, and now I would have to live with the consequences.
I had just stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a plush robe, ready to unwind with a book before bed. The soft light of the bedside lamp cast a warm glow across the room, and I let out a sigh of contentment. But the peace was shattered when the door to my room flew open with a force that made the walls tremble.
Vaughn stood in the doorway, his face a mask of anger, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscles twitching. The tension between us was electric, charging the air with a mix of frustration and something darker. I felt my pulse quicken, my hands instinctively curling into fists at my sides.
“Don’t you knock?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. But Vaughn didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped into the room with a predatory grace, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud that made my heart leap into my throat.
I took a step back, trying to create some distance, but he was faster. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin as he held up my hand with my engagement ring like it wasevidence in a trial. His eyes were wild, blazing with a fury that sent a shiver down my spine.
