Page 21 of Ensnared
“You did it even after I told you to leave?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
I yanked my arm free, the sting of his grip still throbbing as I glared up at him. “You don’t tell me what to do,” I hissed, every word laced with defiance.
For a moment, the fury in his eyes softened, replaced by something that looked almost like regret. His touch was tender, surprising me, as he cupped my cheek with his hand. The gentleness was so out of character it left me reeling. “He’ll ruin you, Josephine. You’ll never have what you want. Everything you do will be what he wants.”
I pulled away from his touch, refusing to let his words sink in. “You’re just angry you can’t have me,” I shot back, the accusation sharp and precise.
Vaughn’s eyebrows slammed together, his expression darkening. “But you’ll never know,” he muttered, his voice thick with something that felt like bitterness. He turned on his heel and stalked toward the door, but before leaving, he stopped and looked back at me, his gaze piercing. “Enjoy the life you created, stepmother.”
The word hung in the air, dripping with disdain, as the door closed behind him. I stood there, my heart racing, the reality of what just happened sinking in like a heavy weight. Vaughn’s visit had left me shaken, and I knew I couldn’t risk another uninvited intrusion. I rushed to the door and flicked the lock, the sound of it clicking into place bringing a small measure of relief.
I climbed into bed, throwing back the duvet and sinking into the mattress. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before, soft and enveloping, as if I were lying on a cloud. But despite the comfort, my mind was restless, replaying the encounter with Vaughn over and over. I stared up at the ornate ceiling, the intricate patterns swirling above me, but they offered no distraction from the turmoil in my thoughts.
A knock at the door startled me, and I sat up abruptly, my heart pounding in my chest. “Who is it?” I called out, my voice more anxious than I intended.
“It’s Easton,” came the familiar voice, warm and reassuring.
I practically leaped out of bed, rushing to unlock the door. As soon as it opened, I threw myself into Easton’s arms, feeling the tension drain from my body the moment he held me. We fell back onto the bed together, laughing softly, the sound a welcome relief after the storm that had just passed.
Easton was the one Ashworth I could always count on, the one who was different from the rest of the wealthy elite. He was laid-back and sweet, a beacon of light in the shadowed world I had found myself in.
“Where have you been?” I asked, sitting up beside him, still holding onto his arm as if afraid he might disappear.
“Australia,” he replied, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I went surfing with some buddies. The waves were insane.”
I smiled, the image of him conquering the ocean with his easygoing charm easing my tension. But his expression shifted, the light fading as he frowned. “Joey, I heard the news. You can’t marry him. You don’t know what he’s like.”
His voice was quiet, filled with a concern that made my heart ache. But I shook my head, the reality of my situation crashing back down on me. “I have to, Easton. You know I have no choice.”
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch so gentle it almost broke me. “You did. You should’ve left.”
I bit my bottom lip, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “How could I? He would’ve retaliated against my family. You know it’s true.”
Easton hesitated, his eyes searching mine before he finally nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted, his voice heavy with resignation. “I never expected him to marry again. It’s been so long. I didn’t think in my wildest dreams it would be you.”
His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the history we shared. Easton had been almost ten when Poppy died, and I remembered the day like it was yesterday. He had come to the woods that evening, curling up under the tree where we used to read together.
My father had found him there, lost and alone, and carried him back to the mansion. Poppy had been sweet, and Easton had been so close to her. I suppose that’s why he was the way he was now—kind, gentle, but with a sadness that lingered just beneath the surface.
I leaned against him, the comfort of his presence making it easier to breathe. But even as we sat there together, the reality of what lay ahead loomed large. The life I had chosen—or had been forced to choose—was filled with uncertainty, and I wasn’t sure if even Easton’s kindness could save me from the storm that was coming.
I spent a sleepless night in the room that would be my home for the next two months. The massive bed offered little comfort, and I found myself perched on the window seat, staring out at the lighted gardens below. The perfectly manicured hedges and glowing pathways seemed worlds away from the life I had known, a reminder of the opulence I was now entrenched in. But it was cold, detached, and I felt like an outsider looking in.
The next morning, I endured an awkward breakfast with Colson and Vaughn. Colson was buried in The Financial Times, his brow furrowed as he absorbed the latest market trends, while Vaughn glowered at me from the end of the long table. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and I couldn’t help but feel like an intruder in their carefully ordered world.
It was strange not seeing my mother at the stove, bustling about as she whipped up fluffy omelets and crispy bacon. The kitchen had always been her domain, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air. Now, she was gone, starting her new career at Windmere Haven Bakery, and I was left to navigate this cold, unfamiliar territory on my own.
I pushed the food around my plate, taking a few bites here and there but barely eating. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the rustling of Colson’s newspaper and the occasional clink of Vaughn’s fork against his plate.
The ride into Manhattan was no better. We sat in the back of the limo, with both Colson and Vaughn absorbed in their phones, tapping away as if I didn’t exist.
I exhaled loudly, a small act of defiance, and crossed my legs, the movement drawing Colson’s attention as my skirt rode up, exposing more of my upper thighs than was proper. His eyes darkened, lips curling into a slow, predatory smile, but his expression remained otherwise passive.
There were no searing kisses this morning, no stolen moments of passion that made my heart flutter. Colson was all business, the Ashworth mask firmly in place, revealing nothing of the man beneath. It was just another side of him that I would have to learn to accept, another part of the puzzle that made up the enigma of my soon-to-be husband.
As we pulled up to the imposing building of the Ashworth Financial Corporation, Colson finally put his phone away and turned his attention to me. “I’d like to see you in my office before you start work,” he said, his voice smooth and commanding.
I nodded, my eyes flicking to Vaughn, who was already frowning deeply. He didn’t say a word, just pushed open the door as soon as the car stopped and strode toward the entrance, leaving us behind.
