25
Isa
The ride back to the house was silent as I stared out the window. I'd signed the marriage contract Rafael shoved in front of me, realizing it would be the last time I signed as Isabel Adamik.
Something told me Rafael would never let me keep my maiden name, even knowing that it gave me a connection to my heritage when he'd taken all the others away from me. When we arrived back at the house, he lifted me into his arms before I could approach, carrying me over the threshold and into the home I would never escape.
I should have stabbed him when I had the chance.
My anger vibrated in my body, boiling my blood in a way I'd never felt before. I'd thought I'd felt anger. I'd thought I'd known what it was to hate someone so completely.
I knew nothing.
He set me on my feet in the kitchen, walking over to the stunning white cake that hadn't been there when we'd left. I watched as he picked up the knife, looking at me as if he knew that I would stab him if he handed it to me. He would have been right.
Suddenly the idea of being a widow so young felt like a blessing.
He placed my hand on the hilt of the knife, covering it with his own immediately and guiding it toward the cake. With everything else in our relationship, I didn't know why he required my participation. It wasn't like I had a choice either way. We carved out the first slice, the lack of people in the room growing more and more noticeable as we set the slice on a plate.
He set the knife to the side, placing it as far from my grasp as he could manage before he picked up a fork. Cutting through it, he raised the red cake with white frosting to my mouth. It brushed against my lips, and I parted to let him feed me even though I would have preferred to take a bite out of his finger instead.
I had to suspect that was the reason he didn't feed me by hand like tradition dictated.
He smirked at me as if he could see the path my thoughts gravitated to, turning the fork to offer me the handle. I took it from him, cutting a piece off the slice of cake and raising it to his mouth. He opened, letting me slide the red velvet onto his tongue. I pulled back the fork, hating the smile that transformed his face as he chewed.
I hated everything about him.
My grip shifted on the fork, holding it firmly as if my life depended on it. For all I knew, it did.
He was still chewing thoughtfully when I lifted the plate and slammed the remaining cake into his face. The ceramic shattered in my grip, and I raised the fork in my hand and drove it toward his body.
Stabbing him in the shoulder, I winced as his flesh parted, offering resistance as the tines pushed through his suit and his skin. Like stabbing into raw meat, I fought back the urge to gag, and dropped my hold. He cursed, wiping cake from his eyes furiously and grabbing for me as I backed away and narrowly avoided his grasp.
I didn't need a knife to stab the fucker, and he'd do well to remember that.
"There's your fucking penance," I growled, staring down at the spot where I'd stabbed him. His eyes followed, moving to the fork sticking out of his shoulder as his shirt stained red. In the same area as his brands, I had to hope it would be memorable enough.
It was all I had.
"My penance?" he asked, raising a brow at me and stalking toward me slowly. I grabbed at my dress frantically, pulling the small train up and out of my way so that I could back away as I glared at him. It would be pointless to run, and I knew it, but the impulse consumed me. I didn't want to suffer through the punishment promised in his smoldering eyes.
"You put a fucking gun to my head!" I yelled, horrified to find tears burning my throat. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was.
"I did," he agreed. "And I would do it all over again to have you as mywife."
I glared at him, watching as he gripped the handle of the fork and pulled it out of his shoulder slowly. He tossed it to the side, and I glanced over to watch it clatter on top of the island. With the red stain to the tines, I wondered if Regina would realize it was blood, or if she'd assume it was from the red velvet of the cake.
"You told me you loved me," I whispered, forcing my feet to hold still despite the urge to flee. "You do not murder people you love,El Diablo,"I hissed.
"Is that your issue? You think because I would kill you that I cannot possibly love you?" he asked, stepping up into my space. His fingers ran through my hair gently, delicately brushing the waves back from my face. He sighed, gripping a fistful in his hand and snapping my neck back so that he could crush his mouth against mine. In a furious tangle of teeth and tongue, he swept inside and claimed me. Pulling back to glare at me, he turned my body with his grip at my hair. Leaving me no choice but to walk backwards toward our bedroom under his direction, I stumbled over my dress and only his support kept me upright.
"You don't," I gasped.
"My love for you is so consuming that I would die before I let you leave me," he murmured, leaning forward to nip at the end of my nose. "The words to describe what I feel for you do not exist. Donotquestion my love for you,mi reina.I am not the one in denial of my feelings," he said, guiding me through the open bedroom door finally.
"I can't be in denial of feelings that don't exist," I lied, glaring up at him.
"Such a pretty mouth to tell such ugly lies," he laughed, releasing my hair to spin me. His fingers pulled down the zipper on my wedding dress, his mouth biting into the flesh of my shoulder where his mark still tainted my skin.