Page 24 of Ensnared
A solitary tear traced down my cheek as I stood in my old bedroom, the very room where I'd spent most of my twenty-three years. The hollow silence was suffocating. Needing solace, I slipped out the back door, heading toward the woods that had always been my refuge.
My tree stood tall, though age had begun to wear it down, patches of bark peeling away. I knew it was only a matter of time before Colson would order it cut down. I settled at its base, leaning against the rough bark, drawing comfort from its steadfast presence.
Raising my hand, I gazed at the enormous engagement ring. It caught the fading sunlight filtering through the leaves, its sparkle a stark contrast to the emptiness I felt—a testament to how drastically my life had changed in such a short span.
Exhaustion overcame me, and I drifted into sleep. When I stirred, dusk had settled, the sky awash with deep blues and purples. Strong arms lifted me, the familiar scent of cologneinvading my senses. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around the neck of my rescuer, feeling a soft kiss pressed against my cheek.
"You had us worried," a voice murmured.
My eyes fluttered open, expecting to see Colson's face. Instead, I found myself cradled in Vaughn's arms. Panic surged through me, and I squirmed, trying to free myself. His grip tightened as he stepped onto the back porch of my old house.
"Don't marry him," he croaked, desperation evident in his tone.
"Vaughn, let me down," I demanded, my voice firm.
The thought of Colson finding me in his son's arms sent a chill down my spine. The potential for misunderstandings, for scandal—it was too much. Vaughn ignored my plea, continuing around the side of the house. Desperation took over, and I sank my teeth into his hand. He jolted, momentarily loosening his hold.
Seizing the opportunity, I slipped from his grasp, stumbling as I put distance between us. I glared at him, anger flaring. "We've been through this. You know if I marry your father, you have no chance to fuck me. It's what you've wanted for so long," I hissed, the words dripping with venom.
His eyes darkened, and in a swift move, he grabbed my shirt, yanking me toward him. His hand slid to my throat, fingers pressing just enough to assert dominance. "Get it straight, Joey. If I wanted to just fuck you, I would've done it ages ago. It's so much more than that."
His words hung in the air, heavy with implications. Before I could retort, Vaughn turned on his heel, striding away. My gazefollowed him, noticing Colson approaching still dressed in his gray suit, his features etched with concern and a simmering rage at the same time.
Colson's eyes bore into mine as he closed the distance. "Where were you?" he growled, the underlying anger palpable.
"I went for a walk in the woods and... fell asleep," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.
Without warning, Colson's hand shot out, fingers wrapping cruelly around the back of my neck. He squeezed, eliciting a wince from me. "You don't do this again. Women of high society don't go for walks in the woods. Look at you—you're covered in dirt. You'll need to shower before dinner and dress appropriately. I trust Velva discussed dinner attire with you."
Memories of the exhaustive etiquette session flooded back. "She did," I murmured, chastised. I hadn't anticipated the strictness extending to casual dinners without guests.
Colson's grip tightened momentarily before releasing. His voice dropped, laced with warning. "If you do this again, I'll take you over my knee, Josephine. Do you understand?"
I stared at him, disbelief evident. "Like a spanking?"
"Exactly. I have certain standards," he replied, eyes cold. "Now, please go upstairs and get ready for dinner. You have half an hour."
Nodding meekly, I turned toward the mansion, the weight of his expectations pressing down on me. As I walked away, I couldn't help but feel the walls closing in, the life I once knew slipping further out of reach.
I made it down to dinner with two minutes to spare, my hair still damp from the rushed shower. The dining room was already filled with the quiet clinks of silverware against fine china, a stark contrast to the turmoil still simmering inside me.
Colson, Vaughn, and Easton were seated, their gazes flicking toward me as I entered. I was relieved not to see Simone. The last thing I needed was her sharp tongue and icy glares making an already tense situation worse.
“Joey,” Easton greeted with a warm smile, standing slightly as I took my seat. His easygoing nature was the only thing that made this entire ordeal bearable. “How was your day?” he asked, genuinely curious, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.
I forced a smile, my fingers trembling slightly as I unfolded the napkin and placed it on my lap. “It was… eventful,” I replied, glancing at Vaughn, who was pointedly avoiding my gaze. The memory of his lips on my cheek was still too fresh, and my face heated.
Colson’s eyes lingered on me, his expression unreadable. “I trust you found your first lesson with Velva enlightening,” he said, his voice cool and composed, a stark contrast to the threatening edge I’d heard earlier.
I nodded, trying to suppress the shiver that ran down my spine. “Yes, very enlightening.” My voice came out steadier than I felt, and I reached for the water glass in front of me, desperate for something to do with my hands.
Easton leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s a tough one, isn’t she? I remember when she tried to teach me table etiquette. Nearly bored me to tears.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle softly, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. “I can see why,” I whispered back, the tension in my shoulders easing just a fraction.
“Easton,” Colson’s voice cut through the brief moment of levity, and we both looked up to find him watching us with that same unreadable expression. “Perhaps you could focus on your meal instead of distracting Josephine.”
Easton’s smile faded slightly, but he didn’t look away. “I’m just making conversation, Father. It’s important to be sociable, isn’t it?” His tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of defiance in it that made me glance between the two of them, sensing an old tension.
