My skin crawls at his touch and I can’t draw enough oxygen into my lungs. The desire to get away from him is all-consuming, and yet I know I can’t. Instead, I force one foot in front of the other and keep walking by his side. Somehow, I have to detach myself from my body and get through this hell, as this is my life now.
Once we get outside, there’s a town-car waiting for us with the engine running. As if Adrik is a gentleman, he opens the door for me to allow me to slide inside, but we both know it’s nothing but an illusion. I’m starting to think that this man is the master of illusions, as he had his entire family fooled for so long.
Hell, even Papá fell for his ploy, and now he’s six-feet under. There’s been no word whether my brothers have had the funeral for him, but I know even once arranged, I won’t be able to attend.
I slide into the car as far as physically possible from the door, keeping my face turned away from the man beside me.
He grabs my thigh and squeezes hard, making me bite back a curse. “Look at me, Eliza.”
It goes against every instinct in my body to follow his order, but I force myself to look him in the eye.
“You aren’t playing a very convincing newlywed wife.” A cruel smirk twists onto his lips. “Another rule I need to add is that you act delighted by my touch and presence.”
I coat my nerves in steel. “It’s impossible.”
He growls, grabbing my throat and squeezing. “Nothing is impossible, baby girl.” His hand flexes around my throat. “Acting is easy. Once you do it enough, it becomes second nature.”
“You would know,” I spit out.
He releases me then, eyes narrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The black sheep act you’ve played all these years, pretending to be a drunk waste of space while you plotted against your own flesh and blood.”
I’m surprised that he doesn’t react with rage.
“Clever, aren’t you, Eliza?”
I don’t answer, as it’s clearly a rhetorical question.
“Yes, I am a good actor. It’s what got me to where I am today.” His hand moves to my thigh, and he squeezes. “You’ll learn to act for me. After all, we’re in this until death do us part.”
“Death would be a kinder fate than being married to you.”
He watches me with those soulless eyes for a few moments. “That may well be true, but death isn’t an option for you right now.”
I freeze when I feel his hand move higher up my thigh toward my panties. “What are—”
“Silence,” he says, his voice cutting through the back of the car like a sharp blade.
I swallow hard as his hand continues to move higher and then a finger skirts the outside of my panties softly.
“I want to know if all the acrid hate that you harbor inside for me stops your basic human reaction to touch. Or whether deep down you still want to be touched by me, fucked by me.”
“No chance in hell,” I spit.
“Hmm,” he says, fingers barely skating over my skin but sending heat prickling over it. “Let’s find out, shall we?” he asks, shoving his fingers under my panties.
I clench my thighs together hard to stop him, but he parts them with his other hand.
“No fighting. You’re my wife, and it’s a husband’s right to touch his wife.”
“Fuck you,” I say, glaring at him as hatred coils like a viper in wait inside of my gut. All I want is to claw his eyes out and for the first time, I’m not restrained. Adrenaline pounds through my veins, spurring me on. My heart races beneath my rib cage, thudding powerfully in my chest.
I clench my fist as he slams two fingers inside of me.
“As I suspected,” he says.
I pull back and punch him square in the jaw. Pain radiates through my knuckles as it’s the first I’ve ever punched anyone. Something tells me I did it wrong, as a throbbing ache overwhelms my fist.