Page 10 of Entrapped
But no matter how hard I scrubbed, the feeling of his hands, his breath, his cruel words lingered. The hot water mixed with my tears, and I cried silently, the sound of the shower masking my sobs.
By the time I finished, my skin was red and raw, but I felt no cleaner. The sun had begun to rise, casting a pale light through the porthole. I turned off the shower, wrapping myself in the thick white robe hanging on the hook. It was soft, almost comforting, but it couldn’t warm the cold that had settled deep inside me.
I stumbled to the bed, my body heavy with exhaustion, and collapsed onto the mattress. The robe covered me, but it couldn’t shield me from the memories of the night before. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I tried to push the images away, to bury them deep where they couldn’t hurt me. But the pain in my throat, the ache between my legs, kept them alive, and I knew that no amount of scrubbing or tears could wash away the scars Colson had left on me.
Sleep was my only escape, and I welcomed it when it finally came, pulling me under into the darkness. But even in sleep, I couldn’t escape the nightmare.
Colson barged into the stateroom, the door slamming so hard it rattled in its frame. I jolted awake, my heart pounding in my chest as I sat up, the remnants of my troubled sleep clinging to me. His hair was disheveled, his eyes wild with something I couldn’t place—anger, regret, or maybe just the remnants of whatever had driven him last night.
He approached the bed, and without thinking, I lashed out. My hand connected with his cheek in a slap that echoed in the room. It wasn’t much; I knew it wouldn’t do anything but provoke him further, but I didn’t care. Anger, fear, and helplessness swirled inside me, and I needed to strike back in whatever way I could.
Colson stopped, his face twisted with a mix of surprise and anger. For a moment, he just stared at me, and I held my breath, waiting for his reaction. Then he grabbed my wrists in one swift motion, pinning them above my head with one hand. I struggled, but his grip was iron, and my efforts were futile.
His gaze shifted to my neck, and I saw a flash of recognition in his eyes as he noticed the bruises. His free hand reached out, and he traced a cold finger over the tender skin, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.
“I’m sorry, Josephine,” he murmured, his voice low and almost foreign. “I don’t know what came over me last night.”
The dam broke again, and tears spilled down my cheeks. He let go of my wrists, and I crumpled into his lap, my body trembling as I buried my face in his chest. His arms wrapped around me,holding me close as if he could somehow comfort me after what he’d done.
“How could you?” I sobbed, my words muffled against his chest.
He sighed, his breath warm against my hair. “I was angry. You’re mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice made me recoil, but I couldn’t deny the truth in it. I wiped at my tears, trying to pull myself together, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “No one could see,” I whispered, more to convince myself than him.
“Joey,” he said, his tone softening in a way that made my skin crawl. “I have four crew members on watch. They have night vision. They could see.”
His words hit me like a stab at my heart. Not only had they seen me, bare and exposed, but they had witnessed his assault on me. The humiliation was overwhelming, and I pushed away from him, scrambling to my feet. My fists clenched at my sides as I glared at him, anger overtaking my fear.
“If this is how our marriage will be, I don’t want it,” I spat. “I’ll ask for a divorce.”
A smirk played on his lips, a cold, calculated expression that made my blood run cold. “I won’t lose another wife, Josephine. Remember your family.”
His words were a reminder, a warning. Colson had me in a stranglehold, and he knew it. I was trapped, not just by him, but by the weight of my family’s debt, by the need to protect them. My anger flared again, but this time it was tempered by the reality of my situation.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. For now, I had to accept this marriage for what it was—a prison. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t find a way to regain control, to turn the tables on Colson. I wouldn’t be his victim forever. When we got back, I’d start planning, looking for a way to escape his grasp before the five years were up. And when I did, I’d make sure to avenge the loss of the Shaw wealth.
But for now, I had to bide my time. I turned away from him, the weight of his gaze heavy on my back as I walked to the window, staring out at the horizon. The sun was up, casting a golden glow over the water, and I watched it, letting the light fill me with a determination I hadn’t felt before. Colson might think he had won, but I would find a way out. I had to.
We ate breakfast in a heavy, oppressive silence. Colson’s attention was glued to his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he answered emails. He barely looked at me, his focus entirely on whatever business matters were more important than acknowledging my presence. I picked at my food, my appetite nonexistent. The tension between us was suffocating, and the memory of last night lingered like a dark cloud over my thoughts.
I needed to get away from him, even if it was just for a little while. The yacht was massive, with multiple decks and hidden corners where I could find some solitude. I pushed my half-eaten plate away, the food turning to acid in my mouth as anxiety twisted in my gut.
Colson didn’t seem to notice. He was lost in his world, a world where I was nothing more than a toy, a piece of his life to becontrolled and manipulated. The thought made my skin crawl, and I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.
His eyes flicked up briefly, a brow raised in mild curiosity. “Going somewhere?”
“I’m going to explore the yacht,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I need some air.”
He nodded, already looking back at his phone. “Fine. Just don’t wander too far.”
I almost snorted. We were on a yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean, where the fuck would I go? Jump overboard and swim back to France?
His dismissive tone stung, but I didn’t let it show. I turned and walked out of the dining area, my footsteps quickening as I put distance between us. The yacht was a floating palace with endless hallways and staircases that led to different levels. I climbed the stairs to the upper deck, where the sea breeze was strong, and the sun shone brightly overhead.
The sound of the waves crashing against the hull was soothing, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I was still trapped on this yacht with him, but at least out here, I could breathe. The open space gave me a sense of freedom, even if it was an illusion.
I wandered aimlessly, taking in the luxury that surrounded me. The yacht was a masterpiece of elegance, with every detail carefully crafted to exude wealth and power. But as beautiful as it was, it felt empty, devoid of warmth or comfort. It was just like Colson—impressive on the outside but hollow beneath the surface.
