Page 56 of Ensnared
She beamed, stepping back to admire her work. "You’re going to be the most stunning bride."
I nodded, my reflection staring back at me with an intensity that felt foreign. "I hope so," I whispered, more to myself than to her.
I found it hard to breathe. My chest tightened as the walls of the dressing room seemed to close in around me. Closing my eyes, I tried to calm the rising panic. It wasn’t just the wedding or the weight of the Ashworth name that had me on edge. Tonight, Colson had requested that I come to his room again.
Since the accident, he had been treating me with care, as if I were fragile glass. But with the wedding drawing closer, that tenderness had begun to shift. He wasn’t asking tonight; he was expecting. My heart pounded as I wondered what he would do, what he would say, once we were alone again.
"Joey, are you okay?" Evelina’s voice broke through my thoughts, grounding me in the present.
I opened my eyes to see her holding a pair of stunning heels. They were impossibly high, with sleek lines that screamed elegance. The soft cream color complemented the ivory of my dress, and the delicate straps wound around the ankle like a whisper of silk. The soles were red—a signature of Louboutin, a brand that embodied both luxury and power.
“These will make you feel like a queen,” Evelina said with a smile, as she knelt down to place them at my feet. “The height will give you that extra confidence boost. You’ll tower over the world on your wedding day.”
I reached out and touched one of the shoes, running my fingers over the smooth leather. They were more than just heels—they were a statement. I would be taller, more powerful. Every inch of those added heels would make me feel like I could conquer whatever lay ahead, even if it was the man I was about to marry.
“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, slipping one foot into the shoe. The arch was steep, forcing me onto my toes, but it also elongated my legs, giving me a sense of strength I hadn’t felt in days.
Evelina’s eyes sparkled as she fastened the straps. “You’re going to be unforgettable, Josephine. No one will be able to take their eyes off you.”
I stood, carefully balancing on the heels as the world seemed to shift slightly beneath me. I could feel the change within myself, the way the shoes altered my posture, my presence. I wasn’t just Josephine Shaw anymore. I was about to become JosephineAshworth, and that name carried weight, power, and a sense of inevitability.
As I gazed into the mirror, the reflection that stared back at me was different. It was stronger, more determined. My green eyes were sharper, more confident. The panic that had gripped me moments before was still there, but it was buried beneath layers of resolve. I would face whatever Colson had planned for tonight. I would step into that room, and I would not waver.
I slipped into the royal blue negligee, the silk smooth against my skin. The lace trim skimmed my thighs, delicate and daring, a combination that made me feel exposed and powerful all at once. I draped a matching robe over my shoulders, tying the belt firmly at my waist. The fabric flowed around me as I made my way down the dimly lit hallway toward Colson's room, the plush carpet runner muffling my footsteps.
Vaughn and Simone had made themselves scarce. Neither of them had joined us for dinner or appeared at the office since the day I fell. Their absence was a relief, but it also left an eerie silence hanging over the house. It was as if they were ghosts, haunting the periphery of my life, their judgmental eyes and bitter words just out of sight but never out of mind.
When I reached Colson’s door, I hesitated for just a moment, my hand poised to knock. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Colson was waiting for me, still dressed in his suit, the sharp lines of his tailored jacket perfectly in place. His presence filledthe room, commanding and unyielding, a stark contrast to the intimacy of my attire.
I had misread his request. My pulse quickened as I instinctively tightened the belt of my robe, drawing it closer around me like a shield.
His eyes flicked over me, taking in the royal blue silk and the way it clung to my body. But there was no spark of desire in his gaze, only a cold appraisal, as if he was assessing whether I measured up to his expectations.
“Josephine,” he began, his voice low and measured, “over the next few days, I expect you to be on your best behavior. We have the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, and then the wedding itself. All eyes will be on us.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Of course.”
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over me. “That means you need to put your worries aside. Whatever happened on those stairs is irrelevant now. No one pushed you.”
His words hit me like a slap, the dismissiveness cutting deeper than any physical blow. My grip on the belt of my robe tightened until my knuckles turned white.
“But Colson,” I protested.
“You fell,” he interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “Accidents happen, Josephine. You need to stop fixating on this. It’s done.”
I searched his face for any sign of softness, any hint that he might understand the fear that still gripped me. But his expression was a mask, impenetrable and unreadable.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” I finally said, forcing the words past the tightness in my chest. “I won’t let anything ruin the wedding.”
He nodded, satisfied with my response. “Good. That’s what I need from you.”
As he turned away, dismissing me as easily as one might dismiss a servant, I felt a cold wave of dread settle over me. I had hoped for reassurance, for some small comfort in this moment of vulnerability. But instead, I was reminded of the stark reality of my situation. I was alone in this, and Colson was not my protector—he was my warden, and I was the prisoner of his expectations.
I watched as he moved toward his desk, already consumed by whatever work awaited him there. The distance between us, both physical and emotional, felt insurmountable.
“Is there anything else you need from me tonight?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
