Page 51 of Ensnared
“Freeing?”
“Being out here, away from everything,” I clarified, though that wasn’t entirely what I meant. It was freeing, in a way, to be without my thong, to feel the breeze and the sense of exposure it brought. But I couldn’t tell Colson that. Not directly.
A slow smile spread across his face, and he leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with my response. “I’m glad you feel that way. I want you to be free with me, Josephine.”
The way he said it made my heart skip a beat, but not in a good way. There was a possessiveness in his words, a claim that was as inescapable as the open water surrounding us. I picked at the fruit on my plate, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on me.
As we ate, Colson kept the conversation light, asking about my thoughts on the wedding, the honeymoon, the future he envisioned for us. I answered carefully, choosing my words with the precision of someone navigating a minefield. Each response was measured, designed to keep him satisfied, to avoid any flicker of the darkness I knew lurked beneath his charming facade.
But despite the casual tone of our conversation, I couldn’t shake the tension coiled tightly in my chest. The feeling of being watched, of being judged, never left me. And when Colson reached across the table to take my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a seemingly affectionate gesture, I couldn’t help but flinch.
“Relax, Josephine,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. But the command was clear.
I forced myself to smile, to act the part of the obedient fiancée he wanted me to be. “I am relaxed,” I lied, though we both knew the truth.
Colson’s smile widened, and he squeezed my hand before letting it go. “Good. I want this to be enjoyable for you. Everything I do, I do for us.”
There was a finality in his words that sent a shiver down my spine, and I suddenly felt more exposed than ever. The sun was warm, the food was delicious, but none of it mattered. Not when I was trapped on this yacht, in this life, with a man who held all the power.
I took a sip of water, trying to steady myself. The breeze lifted the hem of my dress again, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat simmering between us. It was freeing, yes—but it was also a reminder. I might be without my thong, but Colson still held every other piece of me in his grasp.
And I had no idea how to break free, to find my own way in the Ashworth family.
Chapter 20
The water cascaded over my body, warm and soothing against my skin, washing away the remnants of salt and sun from the day. I stood under the stream, letting it work its magic, my mind drifting as the droplets danced over my shoulders and down my back.
It had been a beautiful day, surprisingly so. Colson had been... different. Attentive, even tender in a way I hadn’t expected. The yacht, the brunch, the easy conversation—it was all so unlike him. He had smiled more, laughed even, and for a few fleeting hours, I had almost forgotten the tension that usually simmered between us. Almost.
But now, back at the estate, reality seeped in. The day had been a pleasant distraction, but I couldn’t ignore the looming shadow of the next two weeks. My wedding day was rushing towards me like a freight train, unstoppable and inevitable. I could feel it in every fiber of my being, the weight of it pressing down on me as I stood in the shower, the water pouring over me in a steady stream.
I closed my eyes, letting the warmth seep into my pores, trying to find some semblance of peace. But my thoughts were relentless, racing ahead to everything that needed to be done. The final dress fitting was scheduled for Tuesday. Evelina would be there, making sure every detail was perfect, every seam in place. She had been a rock for me throughout this process, but even her unwavering support couldn’t ease the anxiety that curled in my stomach.
Then there was the seating chart. Colson and I still needed to finalize it, though the task felt more like a formality than anything else. The guest list was already set—500 people, most of whom I had never met. Business associates, family members on the Ashworth side, names that held no meaning for me.
My own side would be pitifully small, just my immediate family. I had no friends to speak of, no extended family to fill the empty seats. It was Colson’s wedding, really. I was just the bride.
I reached for the shampoo, the scent of lavender filling the air as I worked it into my hair. The mundane action helped to ground me, to keep the rising tide of panic at bay. I couldn’t afford to break down, not now. Not with everything that was expected of me.
Colson was downstairs, working out in the gym. I could almost hear the rhythmic thud of his punches against the heavy bag, the grunts of exertion as he pushed his body to its limits. It was his way of unwinding, of channeling whatever emotions roiled beneath his calm exterior. But for me, there was no release, no outlet. Just the ever-present knowledge that in two weeks, I would be his wife.
His wife. The thought made my chest tighten, a mix of dread and resignation. What would that even look like? I had glimpseddifferent sides of Colson, but which one would I be married to? The domineering businessman who commanded the room with a single glance? Or the man who had tenderly held my hand on the yacht, who had made me feel, for a brief moment, like I was more than just a pawn in his game?
I rinsed the shampoo from my hair, the water running clear as it swirled down the drain. The decision had been made long ago, the die cast as Colson had said. There was no turning back now. I would walk down that aisle, I would say my vows, and I would be bound to him in every way that mattered.
But as I stood there, a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder—was there still a way out? Or was I truly trapped, destined to play the role of Mrs. Colson Ashworth until the day I died?
I turned off the shower, the sudden silence almost deafening. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it around myself, the plush fabric a small comfort against the chill that had settled deep in my bones.
The next two weeks would be busy, filled with preparations and final touches. But beyond that, beyond the wedding day itself, lay a future that was terrifyingly uncertain. And no amount of warm showers or beautiful days on the yacht could change that.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, the house was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the air conditioning. I had a few moments to myself before Colson would come back upstairs, and I needed to use them wisely. There was no time for doubt, no space for second thoughts.
I moved to the mirror, wiping away the steam that had collected on the glass. My reflection stared back at me, eyes wide and uncertain. But I couldn’t afford to be that girl anymore. I had tobe strong, to be the woman Colson needed me to be. Because in two weeks, whether I liked it or not, I would be his wife. And that was a role I would have to play to perfection.
With a deep breath, I forced myself to smile, to practice the mask I would wear on my wedding day. The mask of a woman who had chosen this life, who was ready to embrace it with open arms.
I ran the towel through my hair, each stroke growing slower as exhaustion settled over me like a heavy blanket. The day had been long, draining in ways I hadn’t anticipated, and all I wanted now was the comfort of bed. I slipped on Colson’s dress shirt, letting it hang loose around me, the smooth fabric brushing against my skin. The scent of him clung to it, a mix of his citrusy cologne and something deeper, something that always made my pulse quicken.
