Page 17 of Lethal Devotion
The duvet feels impossibly soft under my fingers as I tug it back, and when I set Adam down on the mattress, I can see how plush it is. He snuggles into the mound of pillows with a soft hum, instantly falling asleep again as he tucks the elephant close to his chest. I pull the blankets back up over him, tucking him in, and I’m painfully aware of both Damian and Mrs. Horvat watching us. I wish I could just be alone with him, even crawl into bed and curl up here, with my son close to me and an assurance that we’ll both be safe, but Damian’s made it clear that’s not possible.
“The bathroom is through there.” Mrs. Horvat points to the door at the far end. “I’ll lock it, so the little one can’t wander in and get into things he shouldn’t if he wakes up. Your room is just next door. I’ll show you.”
She gestures for me to follow her, and I do, reluctantly. I don’t want to leave Adam in this strange house, but I also feel guilty, knowing that the housekeeper was woken up in the middle of the night to help us get settled. The sooner I’m in my room, the sooner she can go back to bed.
We head back out into the hall, and Mrs. Horvat takes us to the next door down. It’s just as beautifully overwhelming as Adam’s room was, like a five-star hotel room, but in someone’s house. The room is huge, big enough that half of it could be an entire other room if it wanted to be, with a sitting area complete with a fireplace, a king-sized bed that could sleep four people comfortably, and floor-to-ceiling windows that probably offer a stunning view of the grounds during daylight hours.
The decor is elegant—cream and gold tones with touches of deep blue. Fresh flowers sit on the dresser, and I can see a door that must lead to what is undoubtedly an enormous bathroom.
“This is…” I turn in a slow circle, taking in my surroundings. “This is very generous.”
“This is where I live.” Damian looks at me impassively. “You’re my wife now.”
I nod, unsure of what else to say. “Breakfast is served at eight in the morning,” Mrs. Horvat cuts in. “But if you sleep in, you’re welcome to get the kitchen to bring you something anytime. A maid will be up in the morning to freshen up your towels and sheets.” She glances at Damian. “Is there anything else, sir?”
“No, thank you.” He nods to her, and she gives me a small, pleasant smile before bustling off back to bed… and leaving Damian and me alone.
A heavy silence stretches between us, several long moments passing awkwardly. I’m well aware of what probably happens next, but I don’t feel prepared for it. The night has seemed impossibly long, like days crammed into a few hours, and the trauma of it has left me exhausted. It feels hard to recall that at the beginning of the evening, I was just going into work like any normal day.
My stomach clenches with a mixture of fear and resignation.This is what I signed up for, isn't it?Protection in exchange for… this. For being his wife in every sense of the word. He’ll expect it, of course. Men always do.
I couldn’t walk afterward, I was so sore.Carmen also said fucking him made her come. But she likes rough sex. I don’t know if I would, if I do. I don’t know what kind of sex I like at all, really.
I’m far from experienced. And I’m terrified that Damian will either expect things from me that I don’t know how to give, or simply take what he wants, leaving me broken in the process. Physically, if not emotionally.
Better him than five men on camera, I tell myself, sucking in a breath. It’s better than being trafficked, like Damian said I would’ve been if he and his men hadn’t shown up to put a stop to the entire operation.
Just rip the Band-Aid off. Hope it’s not so bad. Hope he comes quickly and it doesn’t hurt too much…
My hands shake as I reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head before I can lose my nerve. I toss my T-shirt to the side, standing there in just my bra and cutoff shorts, and I have to resist the urge to cover myself with my arms as the cool air of theroom raises goosebumps on my skin. No issues with the air conditioning here, that’s for sure.
Damian goes completely still, his entire body tensing as he stares at me, pointedly not letting his gaze drop. "What are you doing?"
“We’re married.” I swallow hard, the words coming out more strangled-sounding than I want them to. I don’t want him to think I’m a coward, after all of this. “This is what you want, right?” I start to reach for the clasp of my bra, but his voice stops me.
"Stop."
The command is sharp, brooking no argument, and my hands freeze. I look up at him, confused by the expression on his face. He looks... angry? Disgusted? I can't tell.Does he not want me?
"I said stop." He takes a step back, putting distance between us. "Put your shirt back on."
"I don't understand." My voice comes out smaller than I intended. "It’s our wedding night. I… you don’t want to…?"
"No." The word is flat, final. "This is not what I want." He takes another step back, as if he needs to put as much distance between us as possible.
I blink at him, my confusion growing by the moment. I can’t bring myself to look down to see if he’s aroused—if he is, it’s only going to make me more confused and scared, and if he’s not… well, I don’t know how to feel about that. Relieved, maybe? Concerned? I’m too tired to even begin to name the emotions swirling through me. “But…”
“There won’t be any of that.” His voice is harsh and cutting, as if he’s angry at me… or maybe at himself? Like so much else that’s happened, it doesn’t make sense. “Not tonight,” he adds. And then: “Not ever.”
Relief floods through me so suddenly and completely that my knees nearly buckle. I don’t know why he’s saying that, why he doesn’t want me, but all I feel in that moment is an overwhelming relief that I won’t have to fuck him tonight…or ever, according to him. I grab my shirt from where I dropped it, pulling it back on with shaking hands.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper, looking at him as I tug the grey material down. Although…I don’t know if I need to. Maybe it’s enough to just be glad that this is how things are.
Damian runs a hand through his blond hair, his expression and the gesture both frustrated. With me, or with the fact that he’s not getting laid tonight, I don’t know which, but it’s clear that he’s agitated. “This marriage is about protection. Nothing more. You don't owe me anything, and I don't expect anything from you."
"But we're married…" I don’t know why I’m arguing. The last thing I want is for him to change his mind. But it doesn’t make sense, and Ineedsomething about this night to make sense. This isn’t how men behave, in my experience.
"On paper." His expression is closed off, unreadable. "That's all it is. A legal arrangement designed to keep you alive. To give Konstantin a reason to protect you."
