I sit up and freeze, wincing as a sharp sting slams through my ass. I blow out a breath and turn to look at the empty space beside me. I relax and flop back on the bed, thanking whatever entity made him not be here when I woke up. Last night was awful. I can still feel him on me, inside me, and I feel the bile rising. I dive out of bed and run for the bathroom. I crash down to my knees as I puke into the toilet. I take a breath and puke again, that acid tang that sticks in my throat and coats my teeth as I try to sit back. That feeling is still there. Him inside me. I close my eyes and try to calm my body’s reaction to the memory. I should have said no. I wanted to. My mind was screaming, but all I could see were the repercussions that Enzo would inflict on me. And I did as I was told. I lay there, and I took it.
Someone was shining down on me when he stopped and said he wouldn’t touch me again unless I asked because there’s no way I will ever ask for that. I sit and sweat by the toilet, my breathing ragged as my mind screws with me. Screaming, “You were raped!” and I keep pushing it down.
I let it happen. I didn’t say no. I’m fine. It wasn’t rape. I’ll be okay. I’ll get over it. But I sigh because will he actually keep to what he said? Will he not touch me now until I ask, which won’t happen, or will he send me back? Will Enzo come and get me, and then what? Will I be beaten?
I pull myself up onto the counter and stare into the mirror. There’s a box with a new toothbrush in it, so I rip it open and scrub my teeth as hard as I can until my mouth feels less like death and more human. I step into the shower, pressing buttons and turning knobs until the water streams down on me. Who needs that many fucking buttons in a shower, anyway?
I make it last. I take my time, and I scrub every inch of my body with his fancy ass shower gel until I smell amazing. I step out of the shower, wrapping the towel around my waist and scrubbing one through my hair. Fuck, they’re so soft and fluffy. I pull it tight around my shoulders, and it feels like a hug before scrubbing it back through my hair. I step out into the room and startle as a small woman is making the bed.
“Good morning, Mr Ricci.” I gasp and turn, looking for Bellino, and she chuckles before I sigh, realising she means me and that it’s going to take some getting used to. Will I get used to it? Can I get out of this before it sticks?
“Mr Ricci left you a gift. Breakfast is on the table.” She nods to a big black box that is on the nightstand, and there’s a small bistro table just outside on the balcony.
“There’s a robe for you in the closet. Mr Ricci had all your things brought here for you.”
“Closet?” I ask, and she points behind me. I stare, dumbfounded that I hadn’t noticed the other door. “Thank you.”
She nods and steps out of the room. I make my way through the French doors and out onto a balcony that looks out over extensive grounds. Green as far as the eye can see, the birds twitter in the trees, and the breeze gently stirs the leaves.
I can almost believe this won’t be the worst life I could have. But sitting in the serenity of it all, all I want to do is leave. The breakfast is a platter of fruit and pastries, fluffy scrambled eggs with bacon and toast, coffee, and orange juice. I feast like it might be my last meal. And once I can’t eat anymore, I step back inside, staring at the large package sitting on the bedside table.
I sit on the bed, pulling the box onto my lap. I undo the bow and remove the lid. I freeze when I see the smaller black boxes inside the same black boxes my stalker has been leaving. The realisation hits me. He’s my fucking stalker. I lean back and breathe through the panic, screwing my eyes closed hard while I try to figure out how this happened, how I didn’t see it.
I blow out a breath and shake my head. I pick up one of the boxes, opening it up, and it’s a brand-new phone. I turn it back and forth in my hand. It’s weighty, smart, black, and expensive. I start it up, and it’s filled with my contacts, everything is transferred, and the battery is full. I lay it on the bedside table and take another box, opening it up. There’s a leather wallet, it’s soft, supple leather and has the initials L.R. and a series of vines wrapped around it. I realise now why the L.R.! Just like the other ones that were left on my bed in the dorm room.
I pass it from hand to hand. It feels so nice. I open it up, and my jaw drops. A black card. A fucking black card, with Leonardo Ricci emblazoned across it. My driver’s licence is in there too—well, a new one with my name changed. How the fuck did he get these so fast? There’s a stack of bills in there, too. I drop it on the bed, a little overwhelmed.
I pick up another box, and when I open it, my jaw drops. It’s a car key with the keyring he gave me swinging from it. A fucking car. I grab the last box. It’s a watch.Wow, it’s stunning.Sleek and very expensive. I slide it onto my wrist and stare down at it. It’s fucking beautiful.
I feel in a daze right now. I’m kinda spinning out a little, and flop back on the bed laughing. I’ve never had anything like this before. I’ve always shopped at cheap stores. I’ve never owned a car. There’s barely any money in my account, and now all this.
I climb off the bed and head to the closet. She said he had my stuff brought here, so when I push inside and the light flickers on, I expect to see all my clothes either in bags or hung up, but there on the whole left side are rows of clothes all with the tags still on. There’s a shelf at the bottom that has all new boots, shoes, and trainers. There’s a bench in the middle separating the two sides: his and mine. I walk over to his side and run my hand down all the suits, endless amounts of suits. I pull open the draw, and there are rows and rows of ties. His shoes are all highly polished Italian leather in different variations of colour, with matching belts and wallets. There’s a whole drawer for cufflinks and another for watches. I stare down at the new watch on my wrist and notice the time. Shit, it’s nearly lunch, and I need to be at uni.
I grab a few things off the hangers and throw them on. I go over to Bellino’s side and snatch some of his expensive aftershave and spray that around. I panic, shit my books. I stare around the space and then see the leather rucksack. When I step over to it, my books are already inside. I take a minute to pinch myself. To calm my nerves before stepping back into the room.
I grab the phone and wallet and stuff them in my bag and snatch up the car key before running out of the door. I stop and stare down the long hallway before taking off running again.When I reach the stairs, I thunder down them and screech to a halt when the lady who was making the bed is standing at the door waiting for me.
“Have a great day, Mr Ricci.” She smiles at me, and I wave as I step out of the door, my feet stumbling at the top of the steps when I see the car in the driveway. I click the fob and it beeps.
My car. That’s my fucking car. I run to it, sliding my hands over the sleek paintwork. I crack the door open, and the new leather smell hits me. I slide down into the seat and close the door, not wanting any of the smell to be wasted. I sit there and just breathe for a while before a shaky hand presses the button and the engine springs to life, the sweet sound of the engine purrs, and I slide my hands over the leather steering wheel and dash, loving the feeling of the supple leather beneath them. I take a breath, slip the car in gear and stall the fucking thing.
My head shakes and I grimace at myself as I try again and pull slowly down the driveway and head to uni.
I pull up into the back car park so no one can see me, and I jog towards uni. I can see the dean standing on the top of the steps, pacing back and forth, checking his watch. I run straight up to him.
“Sir, I’m sorry I’m late, I…” I realise I don’t have a good reason for being late. I called in sick yesterday because, apparently, we needed to get married mid-week, which isn’t even the weirdest thing to happen over the last few months.
He waves his hand dismissively. “Your husband contacted us to inform us of your situation. I believe congratulations are in order, and if there’s anything we can do for you and Mr Ricci, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”
“Erm, thank you,” I say with an air of reservation, because what the fuck?
“I’ll personally oversee getting your name changes through the school and informing the faculty of the details.”
“Oh, no, please just leave it as Christian for now. I don’t want any… preferential treatment.” Is this it? Is this what’s happening? I’m getting preferential treatment because I’m married to him. I really should find out what he does.
“Of course, please inform Mr Ricci that we are willing to do whatever you need to keep him happy… I mean you, keep you happy.”
I nod my thanks again and push inside because this conversation is far too weird on top of everything else. I step into the theatre, the lights already dim as I’m a couple of minutes late, and I squeeze into my seat next to Darius.
