Page 3 of The Other Belle

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“No, it sounds like you should stop talking and focus on getting a better life.” He runs his hand against my bare neck, making me shudder at his touch. “I’m looking forward to taming every inch of you, so you can learn to behave and keep your troubling little lips shut.”

“I’ll never sleep with you.”

“Oh, you definitely will.” He runs a hand through my hair, and my flesh crawls. “The moment we return tonight, I’ll show you exactly how to please me with your mouth, and I’ll give you a taste of what it feels like to be owned by a man like me … You’ll like it so much that you’ll beg for it again.”

I glare at him as he stares into my eyes, sensing a world full of pain and misery in my future.

“I’m so thrilled that you’ve reunited with my daughter, and I can assure you that she’s talked about finding you for weeks.” My father juggles a full satchel of coins. “I trust that you’ll continue to send payment since this isn’t her full dowry?”

“Depends.” He’s still looking into my eyes. “Are you coming back to the Second Kingdom with me, Belle? To a much cleaner and fulfilling life?”

“Fuck you.”

A thick silence suddenly suffocates the room.

Izzie’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Madam, that’s no way to talk to your future husband, let alone sitting royalty.” One of his men speaks. “Apologize to His Grace now.”

“I apologize for not being the slightest bit interested in a life with you, Your Grace,” I say. “I’m sure you can find another woman who will be happy to get ‘tamed’ by your disgusting touch whenever you like.”

The prince presses his lips into a thin line, then he snatches the coins from my father.

“Thank you for your honesty, Belle,” he says. “May you enjoy the rest of your life. Alone, I’m sure.”

He walks toward the door, and his servants follow suit.

Before I can walk over to the window and watch him leave, I’m suddenly yanked back by my hair and my head hits the wall.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” my father hisses, slapping me across the face. “Do you?”

“Wait,” I beg. “Let me explain.”

“Explain what?” He slaps me again. “Why you just ruined all of our lives within seconds?”

Izzie serves me a look of sympathy from across the room, but she doesn’t move to intervene.

She’s just as livid as he is.

“You’re always ruining everything, Belle,” he yells so loudly that the windows shake.

His third strike sends my body to the floor, and I can no longer feel the left side of my face.

Shutting my eyes, I wince as he yells how I’m a “forever disappointment” at the top of his lungs. He kicks me all over, harder than he ever has before, and I hold back tears.

I refuse to let him see me cry, silently repeating my mother’s last words.

“Never let anyone see you look weak, Belle. Ever.”

When his insults come to an end and the height of his anger dissolves, he grabs me by the arms. Clutching them tightly, he drags me across the room and toward our second basement.

“I should’ve fucking known,” he curses under his breath as he opens the hatch.

“Here, Belle.” Izzie, late as ever, presses a cold wet cloth into my hand.

To my surprise, my father doesn’t snatch it away.

He picks me up and tosses my body over his shoulder, carrying me down the steps. Dropping me onto a stack of quilts, he glares at me.

“I meant what I said about never forgiving you for this.”

I’ll never be sorry for this.

He looks at me as if he’s heard my thought, as if he’s tempted to slap me again.

Shaking his head, he storms up the steps and slams the door shut.

The sickening sound of the lock twisting echoes through the basement, and I finally break into sobs because no one can see me now.

No one will probably see me for a very long time.

The last time I disappointed my father, he left me down here for three months.

From the disgusted look in his eyes, I have a feeling I may not see the sun for an entire year …

Seven Months Later…

In a Faraway Land

Belle

“Breakfast is served.” My father tosses a slice of burnt toast down the steps. “You can use the same butter I gave you yesterday.”

A swarm of spiders stakes a claim over the bread before I can grab it, and I hold back a groan. Today marks the sixteenth day in a row that I’ve missed breakfast, and I’ll have to wait until dinner for another meal.

Although I have a small plot of red apples growing on the ledge of a covered window, it will only last me another week.

If I’m lucky.

“I didn’t hear a ‘Thank you,’ Belle!” he bellows. “Is that your way of saying you don’t want any more food today?”


Tags: Whitney G. Fantasy