Page 52 of Fragile Twisted Vows

“We will get you on the shot tomorrow,” I huff out to her and she nods against my shoulder.

When I ease her down to wash her hair, I can’t help but catch a glimpse of the disappointed look in her eyes. I can’t pay any mind to it, can’t even entertain the thought of having a baby with anyone, especially her. Especially since the idea of it makes my heart begin to pound a strange and unfamiliar rhythm.

“No more lies after tonight,” she whispers as I spread soap along her soft body.

She turns to look at me, her eyes dark under the dimmed light of the bathroom.

“I’m going to be your wife, your partner, whether I like it or not. So the least you could do is keep me in the loop and not lie to me. I’ve had enough of that my entire life.” She sighs and I nod at her.

Even though I just lied to her right then.

Because there are many things I am keeping from Lucy. Her actual ties to her family being one of them.

My fucking growing feelings for her being another.

“Nothing more,” I ground out and she nods, her own lie shining through her eyes as she looks at me.

“Nothing more.” Even though I know she means anything but that.

Because I know what she actually wants. Lucille wants me to give her everything, she wants all of me, and she’s trying to hide it from me. Just as I am trying to hide what I’m beginning to feel for her, what I’ve felt for her in the past. Maybe in a way, she knows that. Or at least hopes for it. Maybe she’s hoping that this arrangement will defy all odds and bring us closer together, a true union.

But I know that I will crumble that hope into ash.

And she knows that I can give her nothing.

seventeen

Lucy

It’s been a week since I watched a man get shoved through a meat grinder and then reduced to ash. I haven’t said much about it, then again I haven’t tried to think about it much either.

Even though my thoughts come through every day when I try to paint.

It’s all the same when I touch a new canvas. Blacked out shadows with charcoal covering an unidentifiable face of a man. Splatters of red throughout. Fire. Lots of fire.

Today, I decided to take my hand and just smear different shades of red throughout the canvas. And now I’ve been staring at it for two hours.

Apart from the images of death, other things happen too.

Like fucking Damien.

Fucking Damien all of the time.

In the shower, in my bed, on the kitchen counter. In his office. One time, on his conference table when all of his team left. Never in his bedroom though. And not in his sex room again either, which slightly disappoints me. And he never kisses me, which also disappoints me, but he laid that rule out in the beginning. And no matter how intimate the sex can be sometimes, I know by the end of it when he leaves, that’s all it ever was. That’s all it will ever be.

We’re so intimate that he ordered a doctor here to give me a shot of birth control. Something I neither refused or felt excited about. It’s a smart idea, using birth control. There’s no way I should be getting pregnant by my sister’s husband or the leader of a cartel, but then again, I probably shouldn’t marry him either.

Yet, here I am. Staring at a wet canvas full of red and white, wondering how the fuck I got here and where I will go from here.

There’s a brochure next to my art station for the university I once attended. They’re offering a marketing program online now, since the state of the world is becoming more and more remote. I want to go back, but I’ve yet to bring the idea up to Damien. When I emailed admissions, they stated I would have to go in for in-person registration. I don’t know how he would feel about that, me going into a university I once attended. It’s too risky, I could run into anyone there and I know that would piss him off greatly.

But I can’t stay hidden forever. Especially if I’m going to have his last name.

“What is that?” Damien asks as he appears behind me.

It doesn’t startle me anymore. The man creeps up out of nowhere. I hate to admit it, but I feel him long before he even speaks. I can feel his eyes on me, feel his breath near my skin before he opens his mouth. I can smell him and my body goes absolutely wild. I’m pulled to him in every way, and it’s unnerving and intoxicating all at once.

I don’t know if he’s referring to the painting or the brochure, so I decide to throw all caution to the wind and tell him anyway.

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