Page 29 of Ensnared
He set down his pen, folding his hands atop a stack of documents. "I have a last-minute business negotiation in London. I'm leaving shortly and should be back in two days."
I nodded, trying to mask my disappointment. Colson's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing my reaction.
"I expect you to continue your training schedule in my absence," he added, his tone brooking no argument. "And Josephine?" He paused, waiting until I met his gaze. "I prefer you don't sleep in Easton's room again. I was none too pleased this morning."
My cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and defiance. "I understand," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Gathering my courage, I asked, "Colson, I'd like to visit my parents. Do you know where they are?"
As employees of my fiancé, my parents had a phone plan attached to the estate. Once they no longer were working for Colson, their cell numbers were terminated. Other than stopping at the bakery to see my mother, I had no idea how to reach them.
A flicker of something—annoyance? concern? passed across his face before his expression smoothed into neutrality. "I don't," he replied, his tone clipped. "Your father's payments are direct deposited into his account each week. I haven't had contact with your family since they moved."
I didn’t believe him. Suspicion gnawed at me. It wasn't like my parents or brother not to reach out. Could Colson be isolating me from them?
"Then I'd like to have lunch with Logan sometime this week," I pressed, searching for any reaction.
Colson steepled his fingers, leaning back in his chair. "That's not possible," he said smoothly. "Logan is training at my Los Angeles office. He won't be back for at least three weeks."
My brother wasn’t answering his phone either and when I stopped by his office, he wasn’t there. Now I knew why.
Frustration bubbled up inside me. "I need my family," I blurted out, my voice cracking.
Colson's eyes flashed dangerously as he stood, palms flat on his desk. "I am your family," he growled. "You'll be an Ashworth soon."
I lifted my chin, meeting his glare. "But for now, I'm a Shaw."
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking with barely contained anger. "I think it is better if you wait to see your family," he said, his voice low and threatening. "Don't challenge me on this, Josephine."
The fight drained out of me, my shoulders slumping in defeat. After this morning's ordeal, I didn't have the energy to argue further. "Fine," I muttered.
Colson's posture relaxed slightly, satisfied with my acquiescence. "The limo is waiting," he said, his tone softening. "I'll see you on Thursday evening, when I would like to continue your nightly visits to my room."
My stomach churned at the implication, a confusing mix of dread and anticipation flooding through me. I couldn't deny how good the orgasm he gave me felt, how a part of me craved more despite my misgivings.
As I turned to leave, Colson called out, "Josephine?" I paused, my hand on the doorknob. "Remember, everything I do is for us—for our future."
I nodded without looking back, slipping out of the office with my thoughts in turmoil and my heart racing with conflicting emotions.
Velva was waiting for me when I arrived, her sharp eyes already assessing me as I stepped into the room. "Let’s see what you remember from yesterday," she said, her voice as crisp as her tailored suit. There was no room for error; she was ready to pounce on any mistake.
But I didn’t falter. Every detail, every piece of information she’d drilled into me the day before came flooding back. I recited the proper placement of utensils, the precise way to use a finger bowl, and which glass to use for each type of wine. Velva’s stern expression softened, a rare smile tugging at her lips. “Impressive,” she admitted, her approval a small but significant victory.
For the next three hours, she pushed me harder, refining my posture, my diction, even the way I walked. By the time my dance instructor, Sunny Posner, arrived, I was already exhausted. Sunny led me to the ballroom, the same one where this entire ordeal had begun. Memories of my father teaching Logan and me to dance flashed through my mind—waltzes, tangos, every step ingrained in me from childhood.
Sunny seemed to sense my familiarity with the dances. After a few rounds across the polished floor, she gave me a nod. “You don’t need me,” she said with a smile. Relief washed over me. At least one part of this grueling preparation was over. No more dance lessons.
As she left, I couldn’t help but think about tomorrow’s challenge—wine pairings with a sommelier after another three hours with Velva. All this training, all this pressure to perfect myself for a life I wasn’t sure I wanted. It was suffocating.
By the time I dragged myself upstairs, exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders. As I reached my door, I heard Easton’s voice and turned to see him in the hallway, talking on his cell. He glanced at me, holding up a finger to signal that he’d be just a moment. I leaned against the doorframe, barely keeping my eyes open.
He ended his call and walked over, concern etched on his face. “You look tired. Is that my fault?”
I glanced up, wary of the hidden cameras that likely recorded every move. Easton’s eyes flicked to them, understanding my hesitation. “Why don’t you go into your bedroom and rest,” he suggested gently.
I gave him a weak smile and slipped inside, closing the door behind me. I barely had time to exhale before I nearly jumped out of my skin—Easton was suddenly in my room, having entered through the closet.
“What the hell, Easton!” I gasped, my heart racing.
