Page 39 of Fragile Twisted Vows

“No need, it’s why he pays me,” he says, and I nod.

“Thank you. For everything. It was delicious,” I say, and he gives me another one of those cocky winks again.

“Pleasure was all mine. I’ll see you around sometime, Lucy. Don’t get lost in the boring extravagance here,” he says, and I snort as I walk away from the main area.

When I walk to the hallway in search of the library, I stop at the staircase near the elevator. I can’t help but think that it’s a bit odd for a penthouse to have a staircase leading upstairs, but Damien owns this entire building, so I’m sure every abstract renovation is his doing. Still, I can’t help but feel curious. Something is pulling me along each step as I climb the staircase now. I noticed it the other day and couldn’t help but wonder what is at the top of these stairs, but now, I’m going to find out.

And when I arrive, I realize that it his bedroom. His massive, designer, expensive-looking bedroom. I know I shouldn’t snoop, but this room is begging for snooping. It’s something out of a contemporary fairytale. Practically the only room inside of this place that has any style. And mostly because of the chandelier and light walls on either side of the king-sized bed, which also has a floating frame. I could spend all day here, but something else grabs my attention.

A door. A door with red light peeking out from underneath it. The only pop of vibrancy that this place has to offer and I have to inspect it. I have to see what’s on the other side of that door. And even though my blood is running with curiosity, nothing could ever prepare me for what I find once I open this door.

Not only is this room vibrant, but it is…otherworldly. And as I step inside and look at the four poster bed, when I look at the dark walls with light fixtures and chains, when I look at the random contraptions, unique furniture, and glass display cases filled with…toys, I realize this is the most vibrant room of the entire place.

Because it is a sex room.

My jaw practically drops to the floor when I take it all in, and even though it is both intimidating and downright terrifying, I can’t help but walk further inside of it.

I run my hand along the contraptions, some leather, some steel, all black. Some have chains, some have bolts and loops. And it’s the same with the walls, especially the main, upholstered wall that houses many different toys including paddles, whips and even rope.

I walk past the four-poster bed that has even more straps and loops to gaze at the wall full of toys. I have no idea what half of these are used for, but I know a lot of this equipment definitely induces pain. So why doesn’t that knowledge terrify me? Why doesn’t the sight of this place make me want to run for the hills? Why am I intrigued?

I run my hand along the rope that’s dangling from the wall, my fingers twisting around it as I stare at it in fascination. And I wonder what it must feel like when it’s tied tightly around the delicate skin of my wrists.

“Find anything interesting?” I hear Damien ask from behind me and I instantly jump away from the wall with a mortified shriek.

I stare at him now as he leans casually against the door he just closed, locking us in this strange space that my stupid brain is somehow enthralled by. But right now, I feel embarrassed. Because I got caught. Because I found something so intimate that not only belongs to him, but was created by him. For him. For his pleasure. To fuck women that are not me.

And right then, I feel another stupid emotion trying to poke through.

Jealousy.

“I’ll be going now,” I say as I walk away from the wall and towards the door, my head hung in shame.

When I reach him, he doesn’t move to open it. In fact, he blocks my only form of exit entirely. I want to tell him to get out of the way, to look up at him, but I find that I can’t. My face is so hot and red that I know if I do, he’ll either mock me or berate me, which will not only make it worse, but it will make me want to crawl into a hole and never return.

“Look at me,” he orders, but I shake my head.

He knows what he’s doing and I can’t play along with him right now. I can’t be submissive here in this moment. Here in this space.

I’m not the woman this room was designed for. I’m not the woman he even wants in this room to begin with. I’d like to be, which is fucking absurd. It’s absolutely insane that I want to be the woman he binds with that rope. It’s sick that I want to feel his hand mark my skin even harder than last night in the shower.

And it’s not only absurd, it’s irrational.

Because even though I would like to be seductive. Even though I want to bring him to his knees and make him give into the desire that I know we both feel, I can’t. Because in reality, I’m nothing but an amateur. I’m nothing but a fraud. I’m playing the role of a woman that I have no idea how to be.

“I said, Look. At. Me,” he growls, his finger traveling beneath my chin before he pushes it up forcefully, making me gaze into his eyes.

His brilliant eyes that are filled with so much lust, so much want that it staggers me. That it not only makes my face heat up, but causes a wildfire across my entire body.

His face is so close to mine and his scent is wrapping around me like a fierce hug, pulling me into him even further. I’m lost in him now. In his darkening gaze and rich scent, in his everything quite frankly. I’m a moth to a flame and he knows it.

“Do you want to see how it’s used?” he asks, and I don’t question him.

I know exactly what he means.

He’s talking about the rope. The thing I marveled at. The thing I imagined him wrapping around me. And even though I should say no. Even though I should be turning away or running far from him, I don’t.

Because I’m forced to be this man’s wife.

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