Chapter Four
You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Olivia Lauder and Malakai Farrow.
My palms are sweating as I stare down at the invitation in my hand. An invitation to my own wedding. This Sunday.
As in one day from now.
One fucking day.
What the fuck!?
I’d screamed his name the moment I realized what I was holding but the prick never came back and like fuck would I be leaving this damn room to chase him down. One, I’ll likely get lost because I was too angry at him for stealing my phone to get my bearings on which halls we went down, and what doors we entered when he brought me to this bedroom, and two, he seemed to be getting off on riling me up and Idon’t want to give him the satisfaction.
I won’t be leaving this room until they drag me out, that’s for sure.
It had everything I needed anyway, an ensuite, stocked fully with creams and lotions, soaps and shampoos. There’s a mini fridge with snacks and drinks, including wine. I can just pretend I’m staying in some fancy country manor hotel, and this isn’t really happening.
I text Willow, letting her know I’m fine – as much as I can be anyway – and go to the closet, assuming all my things have been unpacked already since there are no boxes or bags laying around. But the closets are empty save for a long bath robe hanging from the pole, and the drawers are too. There isn’t a single item of mine here.
Maybe it hadn’t arrived yet and Malakai was just fucking with me when he said they were here? I think, as I kick off my shoes and head over to the bed in the center of the room, sitting on the soft surface and placing a foot onto my knee so I can massage the arch. All that walking through the house did a number on them. No one would talk to me, not properly anyway, they just kept telling me to speak withMr. Farrow,it didn’t matter that I didn’t know how to get back to the pretentious idiot.
It's how I ended up at the top of the stairs, sat on the hard floor as I scrolled Instagram.
But a wedding… already?
I groan as I fall down onto my back, sinking into the bed. Why so damn soon?
Either way, he can screw off if he thinks I’ll be joining him for dinner.
No. You know what I’m going to do?
I’m going to make use of that huge claw foot tub in the bathroom and sink to my nose in a bubble bath.
Decision made, I start to strip, unzipping my skirt before I pick it up and fold it on the bed, I do the same to my blouse and walk in my underwear to the bathroom.
I am going to make his life a living hell. How, I’m not sure yet but I’ll figure it out.
I am not a violent person, I never have been, but I’ll think up ways that’ll hurt in every sense but physically.
With the water running, I rifle through the drawers looking for a hairband to tie my hair back and once that’s found, I make use of the cleansing oils to remove my makeup. I should probably question why he has all this stuff but that would mean talking to him. My father used to tell me my stubbornness would get me in trouble one day and I guess that day has come to test the theory.
The bathroom fills with steam and the scent of lavender, thanks to the oils I added to the water and when it’s ready, I strip the rest of the way down, climbing into the boiling water. It’s almost too hot to sit down in so I hold my breath, sinking slowly beneath the bubbles.
I have no awareness of how much time passes as I lay in the tub but it’s long enough for my fingers to prune and the water to become more lukewarm than hot,so I get out, dry off and use the robe in the closet since I have no clothes in here. I wasn’t getting back into that skirt today, no thank you!
The sky has since turned a deep shade of periwinkle, the evening drawing in. I couldn’t wait for the days to be longer. I love summer over anything else, the heat, the freedom it brings.
Crouching in front of the mini fridge, I find an expensive bottle of white wine but no glasses anywhere in the room.
Was it acceptable to drink it straight from the bottle? There’s a small glass in the bathroom, which I assume should be used to rinse your mouth out but I’ve drank out of worse so I let my feet slap over the hard floors, noticing that they’re warm under my soles, and grab it, going back to the bed to make it up so I can watch videos on my phone.
With wine in my hand and a film playing on the tiny screen of my phone, I settle into the pillows, finally feeling somewhat relaxed given the circumstances.
I’m barely through the opening credits when a loud knock sounds on the door. I startle, the wine splashing over the rim.
“Who is it?” I yell, pulling at the edges of the robe.
“Miranda,” Comes a huffed reply.
