Page 16 of Beneath Scarred Vows
I smile.
"Of course, husband."
After a few moments, he releases my neck and drags his fingertips down my right side. I shift away.
"Dinner is at eight. Wear what you want." He turns to leave, then pauses. "My family is looking forward to welcoming you into our world."
"Your world," I correct. "Not mine."
His dark eyes flash with something dangerous. "You're a Kastaris now, Katerina," he says, turning away. "Accept it, or don't. It makes no difference to me."
6
KATERINA
The bathroom is ridiculous—all marble and gold fixtures, with a shower big enough for four people and a tub that looks like it belongs in a spa. I take my time washing away the travel grime, letting the hot water ease some of the tension from my shoulders.
When I'm done, I quickly wrap myself in one of the robes and step out. As I come into the main bedroom, I hear a soft knock at the door.
"Mrs. Kastaris. I'm Emma. I'm here to help you prepare for dinner."
"Come in," I call.
A young woman enters, probably around my age. She's pretty in a subtle way, with her hair pulled back in a neat bun.
"Hi, I'm Katerina," I say.
Emma nods and gives me a smile.
"Thank you for coming, but I don't need help."
Emma's smile wavers slightly. "I see. Mr. Kastaris was quite insistent."
Of course, he was.
She moves toward the closet. "Mr. Kastaris suggested three options for tonight. I will get them for you."
I follow Emma into the closet, and like everything here, it's massive. It's got rows of shoes, drawers, lines of clothes, a vanity, and in the center, an island with more drawers and glass cases filled with jewelry.
"Here you are, ma'am. These are what he thought would be best."
I examine the three dresses. One is deep blue, another is black with subtle beading, and the third is a deep wine color with a low back.
"Which one would you choose?" I ask her.
She looks surprised at being asked her opinion. "The black one would suit you beautifully."
I smile. "Then that's what I'll wear."
A small smile crosses her lips before she quickly composes herself.
"Please have a seat," she says, pointing to the chair in front of the vanity desk.
She helps me with my hair, drying and styling it into loose waves that fall past my shoulders. When she reaches for makeup, I shake my head.
"Just mascara and lip balm, please."
"Mr. Kastaris mentioned?—"
