Page 59 of Ensnared
"Distractions?" I repeated, my voice incredulous. "That’s all this has been to you, hasn’t it? Just a series of distractions you brush aside to get what you want. But I’m not a distraction, Colson. I’m a person, and I’m done pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not."
He closed the distance between us in two strides, his hand reaching out to grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "You knew what you were getting into," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "This marriage is more than just love or attraction. It’s power, control, legacy."
I stared up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "I’m not your puppet," I hissed, my voice trembling with barely contained rage. "I won’t let you use me."
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin. "You already are," he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine. "And you will be, whether you like it or not. You will bear the Ashworth name, Josephine. Don’t forget that."
I pulled away from him, my eyes blazing with defiance. "I won’t forget," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "But don’t think for a second that I’m going to be the obedient little wife you want me to be."
Colson’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. The silence between us was heavy, charged with tension, until finally, he stepped back, his expression unreadable.
"Three days," he reminded me before turning and walking out of my office, leaving me standing there, shaken but resolute. In a few days, I would become an Ashworth, but I wasn’t about to let him dictate what that meant.
Colson's summons via text came the day before our rehearsal, and despite the storm of anger roiling inside me, I had no choice but to answer. He had a way of demanding compliance without words, a silent expectation that made it clear—resistance was futile.
I entered his room, my heart heavy with the weight of what was to come. He stood there, a vision of sculpted perfection, dressed in nothing but lounge pants, his chest bare. He was the devil in a god’s body, and I was his chosen sacrifice. I had thrown on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, refusing to play into the charade of seduction. It didn’t matter what I wore—he would take what he wanted regardless.
Without a word, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. He pulled me into a hug, his arms strong and unyielding. His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered, “I’ll try to do better, Josephine. Don’t hate me.” His voice was laced with a mix of regret and desire. “When I saw how much of a beautiful woman you’d grown into, I knew I had to have you.”
His words stung like a barb, twisting deeper into the wound he had already inflicted. It wasn’t an apology, not really. But it wasas close to one as I was likely to get. My mind screamed to push him away, to run, but I was trapped in this gilded cage, and there was no escape. In two days, I would be Mrs. Josephine Ashworth.
“Don’t lie to me again,” I heard myself say, the words hollow in my mouth. This was my life now—a life I hadn’t chosen, but one I would have to endure. The title of Ashworth would be mine, and with it, a world of power and darkness I was only beginning to understand.
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, searching for something—maybe forgiveness, maybe submission. I didn’t give him either, but I didn’t pull away. This was the man I would be bound to, and the battle for my soul had only just begun.
“Stay with me tonight. We’ll be apart tomorrow night,” Colson said, his voice low and steady, leaving no room for refusal.
I had planned to stay in the guest house with my parents and Logan while Colson remained in the mansion. It would have been perfect if we could’ve stayed in our old house, but it was being renovated—for what purpose, I didn’t know. The distance, however small, would’ve given me some space to breathe before our wedding day.
I nodded, my voice lost somewhere in the tension between us. He took my hand, his grip firm but not harsh, and led me toward the bed. There was an unsettling calm in his movements as he pushed my shorts down, watching them pool at my ankles before tugging my T-shirt over my head.
I stood there, almost naked, save for the tiny black mesh thong that clung to me. Colson’s hands roamed my body, his touch gentle as he cupped my breasts, his eyes dark with intent.
“Get into bed,” he ordered, his tone soft but commanding. “I’ll be back.”
I slipped under the soft sheets, the fabric brushing against my bare skin as I waited. The silence in the room was heavy, the anticipation thick. When he returned from the bathroom, the scent of mint clung to him, fresh and clean, a stark contrast to the intensity of the moment. He slid into bed beside me, his body warm and naked against mine. He pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me, molding his form to fit mine.
For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to sink into the comfort of his embrace, the solidity of his body against mine offering a false sense of security. But I knew better. Colson’s moods were unpredictable, and his tenderness could shift to something else in an instant.
He captured my mouth with his, kissing me with a passion that was both familiar and unnerving. His kiss was not unlike the one Vaughn had given me the day before, both demanding and consuming. Colson’s hands found their way to my ass, cupping it as he pulled me closer until his erection was pressed firmly against my center. The pressure was a reminder of the power he wielded over me.
My mind raced, caught between the present and the inevitable future. In two days, I would be Mrs. Josephine Ashworth, bound to this man in more ways than one. But for now, I was simply his, and there was no escaping that truth.
Chapter 24
Colson was attentive and kind the day of our rehearsal, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a facade. I knew better than to let my guard down; I’d learned that lesson the hard way. He had a way of lulling me into a sense of security, only to snatch it away when I least expected it. So, even as we shared a peaceful breakfast together, I remained on high alert.
He seemed almost charming, asking me about my plans for the day, discussing the details of the rehearsal, and even making me laugh a few times. But beneath his polished exterior, I could sense the undercurrent of control, the way his eyes tracked my every move, as if he were gauging my reactions, measuring my compliance.
The morning passed uneventfully. We spent the afternoon in the library, where he perused his business journals while I pretended to be engrossed in a novel I couldn’t focus on. The silence between us was comfortable on the surface, but there was an unspoken tension simmering underneath, a tension I knew would explode at the slightest provocation.
As the day wore on, the time came to get ready for our rehearsal. The crew outside had been hard at work preparing the event space. I watched from the window as they set up the large white tent on the lawn, the tables and chairs arranged with military precision, the dance floor gleaming under the soft lights.
The air conditioning units were already cooling the space, ensuring our guests would be comfortable despite the summer heat. The ceremony itself would take place on the beautiful lawn, the perfect backdrop for what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
Over 500 guests had been invited, and the thought of standing before them, pretending everything was perfect, made my stomach churn. The chef was already in the kitchen, preparing a sumptuous meal to be served buffet-style in the ballroom. The rehearsal dinner was a much more intimate affair, with only about twenty-five people, including Simone, Vaughn, and Easton, attending.
I had barely seen Simone and Vaughn in the past few days, their absence a relief but also a reminder of the tensions that lay beneath the surface. Easton was the only one who had been a constant, his presence a small comfort in this storm of chaos.
