“Till death do us part, Red.”
Chapter Four
Isobel
Something was sketchyabout Damien.It wasn’t about his personality.I had known that he was a psychopath from the minute I set eyes on him.
Something about his lifestyle was off.
He made shady calls.He’d disappear for hours and lock himself up in his study.He left home early before I woke up, so I never saw him.And when he came back, he’d creep up behind me when I was groggy and slip into me from behind, fucking me so hard until I had come at least twice before he cuddled me possessively to sleep.
He was like a ghost that haunted me.I never really saw him, but I felt his presence.It almost made me think he was a figment of my imagination.
After curling up on the couch in the library to read and filling myself full with wine, I got bored.Being married to Damien was like bondage.I could never really go anywhere unless it was with him.It frustrated me as much as it got under my skin.
Who knew clearing off my debts would make me a prisoner?It was highly ironic.
I left the library, and I was supposed to make my way back to the room to take a shower.But exploring the east wing of the house was tempting, so I caved in.Most of the time, the maids reminded me that the east wing belonged to Damien and was off-limits.
I didn’t care right now.If he wanted to protect the east wing so badly, then he should have been home.With me.
The hallway was quiet.Something about the air was colder.I felt the chills settle deep in my bones.The icy air danced around my skin, hardening my nipples against the material of my dress.
The lighting here was dim, illuminating the dark red walls with abstract paintings and crimson carpets.No one was in sight, and that should have been more than enough reason for me to turn around and leave, but I didn’t.
I kept on walking until I got to the last door on the floor.I looked over my shoulder, swallowing softly.Then I convinced myself that since no one was around to stop me, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
So I let myself in.
The room smelled like wood, with a hint of leather, and Damien’s signature scent, which suggested he used the place frequently.It was a study with large, imposing shelves stacked with strange files.The massive mahogany desk was a little disorganized with papers lying on it.
The half-filled glass of whiskey made me realize that he must have had to step out while he was working.In all the weeks we’d been married, I had come to know Damien as a neat freak.He wouldn’t leave the space disorganized if it weren’t important.
Curiosity niggled at the back of my mind, making me indulge in the papers on the desk.They were boring sales papers, eliciting a snort from me.I inhaled the whiskey, catching a whiff of something that reminded me of him.
I slumped into his seat, tucking my hair behind my ear as I proceeded to raid his desk drawers.They were all papers until I opened the last one.
