Page 14 of Wedlocked

I needed a distraction.

I threw off the bedcovers and padded toward the bathroom, where pearl-blue tiles with gold accents, double showerheads and a wraparound bench displayed understated luxury behind frosted glass. I stepped inside and flicked on the lever, hot water showering down, sluicing over me like a lover’s caress.

I looked up and closed my eyes, allowing the water to wash away the memory of Ethan’s mouth on my lips, my skin, and my body. Then lathering up a whole lot of liquid soap, I rubbed it all over myself, loving the citrus scent almost as much as being clean again. After washing my hair, I stepped out and wrapped a white, fluffy towel around me before blow-drying my wet hair dry.

Anything I needed was stored in the vanity. Toothpaste and spare toothbrushes, hair brushes, a straightening iron, hair products, perfume and makeup.

My stomach twisted as a shaft of jealousy tore through me at the thought of all the women who’d used this hair dryer and all these products, along with the future women who’d use them. Even once I was married I didn’t doubt he’d bring a parade of women through his home, anything to twist the knife deeper for me being a Costa and a spy.

What would I find in his closet?

Returning the hairdryer with a clatter inside the vanity, I tied my hair up into a messy bun before I strode out of the bathroom and into the bedroom’s walk-in closet, where I found a selection of women’s clothes that were mostly in my size. My spine tightened. Fuck. But what had I expected? Ethan was a player, even I knew that and I’d been sheltered like a priceless virgin in a gilded cage.

My father wouldn’t be incensed at my disappearance because he loved me dearly, he’d be incensed because he’d been cheated out of using me to gain traction in his underworld dealings and advancing his own cause. At least my brother cared. Despite our unorthodox and often brutal upbringing, my brother and I were close. Salvatore really would be out for blood now.

My knuckles went white as I gripped the hem of a summery dress with spaghetti straps. The flowery print wasn’t my style, even if it was my size. My stupid decision to come here might well have people in my family and Ethan’s killed. I couldn’t allow that to happen. I’d have to find some kind of peaceful resolution, even if that meant lying and pretending I wanted to marry him.

That a part of me was fascinated by Ethan and the idea of being his wife just added insult to injury.

I ignored the lacy panties—no thank you! I refused to wear those when someone else’s pussy had rubbed against the crotch. I also decided to go without a bra. The cup sizes were too small anyway.

Unwrapping the towel from around me and tossing it onto the back of a nearby chair, I pulled the dress over my head and stepped into the dressing room situated at one end of the closet, where I peered at my reflection in a cheval mirror. The dress actually looked lovely on me. Fresh. Like I hadn’t just gone through hell and back learning about my impending death, then to heaven and back under Ethan’s practiced mouth, hands and cock.

Sliding my feet into a pair of white pumps, I left the closet and bedroom, then traversed the wide hallway once again, taking note of the discreet cameras up high with their red, blinking lights that followed my every move. I hadn’t noticed them last night, but then I’d been a little preoccupied.

I also hadn’t noticed the intermittent sculptures of naked men and women, artwork that was no doubt priceless. The mansion was nothing short of a showroom.

I took the grand staircase to the ground floor below, which had held the party last night. The room was even more enormous now it was empty, and echoed with my footsteps as I walked across the parquetry hardwood floor, following the scent of bacon and coffee.

It wasn’t until I stepped through an archway that I found the kitchen and a large dining room with an eighteen seater table. An older lady, her gray hair pulled back and mostly covered by a bright head wrap, was busy flipping pancakes in one pan and bacon in another. Coffee also percolated on the stovetop.

She looked up, her dark eyes smiling right along with her lips. “Oh, hello! You’re awake. I’m the cook here, Matilda. You must be Sabrina. How lovely to meet you. Oh, and congratulations on your coming marriage to Ethan. I can see now why he’s smitten.”

I smiled, relieved to finally meet such a genuinely friendly face. That a part of me yearned for her last words to be true wasn’t something I wanted to focus on too hard. “It’s lovely to meet you too.”

Matilda’s eyes twinkled. “You must be dying for a coffee.”

“Yes, please. Black, no sugar.”

“Coming right up.” She tipped the kettle and poured the dark liquid into a mug. Then handing it to me, she added, “Please tell me you like pancakes!”

“Love them,” I confessed.

Matilda chuckled. “Good! I’m excited one of Ethan’s women actually eats—“

At her cut off words and the red flush spreading across her cheeks, I rushed to reassure her. “It’s fine, honestly. I’d have to have been hiding under a rock not to know about his past…love life.”

That I had been living under a rock to some extent didn’t need to be shared. That I was also aware Ethan’s past love life wouldn’t stay in the past didn’t need to be aired, either. Matilda clearly presumed Ethan’s future wife would set him on the straight and narrow.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, clearly flustered. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Please, don’t worry about it. I’d much prefer your honesty than having to tiptoe around the truth.”

Matilda nodded and sighed. “I’m so glad to hear that. Sometimes my mouth runs away from me.” She turned back to the stove and turned the bacon over. “Ethan and a couple of his men took off early to take care of business. The rest of the men are stationed around the house.” She looked back. “In other words, it’s just us here this morning.”

“Hey, what about me?”

I twisted around to see Isabella approaching, her long, inky-black hair falling loose past her shoulders in beautiful contrast to her fitted white blouse that reached the top of her thighs. Thick gray leggings encased her long, slender legs, heeled brown suede ankle boots with gold side zips complementing the pair of gold chains glinting at her throat.

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