Page 11 of Entrapped
I found a quiet corner on the upper deck, a small alcove with a view of the endless ocean. I sat down, letting the sun warm my skin as I tried to clear my mind. I needed to think, to figure out how to navigate this marriage without losing myself in the process. I might be bound to Colson for now, but I wouldn’t let him break me.
The waves rolled on, a constant rhythm that reminded me that nothing was permanent, not even this. I just had to be patient, to find the right moment to regain control of my life. For now, I would endure, but I wouldn’t give up. I couldn’t afford to for my family’s sake.
Colson found me an hour later, seated at the edge of the deck, staring out at the endless expanse of the sea. The rhythmic sound of the waves had been a temporary solace, a lull that allowed my thoughts to settle. But his presence disrupted the fragile calm I had managed to create.
Without a word, he sat down beside me, his body close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him. He pressed his face into my hair, breathing me in like he was trying to find something he’d lost.
“I can’t apologize enough,” he murmured, his voice raw and low. “I don’t know what came over me last night.”
A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Colson, you can’t change what you are. You can’t stop your true nature.”
His hand gently gripped my chin, turning my face to meet his gaze. His eyes searched mine, a storm of emotions brewing in their depths. “What does that mean?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion and a hint of something darker.
“It means you can’t help yourself from being cruel,” I said, my voice trembling but steady. “Was it always this way? Did you hurt Poppy like you hurt me?”
His fingers traced the bruises on my throat, his touch surprisingly tender. “No,” he admitted quietly. “Something about you brings out the worst in me.”
The words were like a punch to the gut. I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Then why did you marry me?” My voice broke, and I hated myself for the vulnerability I was showing. “You could’ve ended our engagement and found someone else.”
He sighed, his hand slipping from my chin to cup my face. The warmth of his palm against my skin sent a wave of conflicting emotions through me. “I could’ve, but I wanted you. There is no other woman in Windmere Haven or anywhere that I wanted to marry.”
His words should have comforted me, but instead, they left me feeling more conflicted than ever. I looked up at him, my heart aching with a mix of pain and longing. “Then treat me like it, Colson,” I whispered, my voice filled with a plea I wasn’t sure he could understand. “I’m not your possession. I’m your partner.”
For a moment, his expression softened, and I saw a glimpse of the man he could be, the man I wanted him to be. But it was fleeting, like a shadow passing over the surface of the water, gone before I could fully grasp it. His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped.
“I’ll try,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of a promise I wasn’t sure he could keep. “But you have to understand, Joey. This is who I am.”
“I know,” I replied, my voice barely more than a whisper. “But I need you to try harder. For both of us.”
He nodded, his gaze unwavering as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. It was a small gesture, but it held a world of unspoken words, a fragile truce between us. As he pulled away, I felt a flicker of hope, but it was quickly overshadowed by the lingering doubt that gnawed at the edges of my mind.
Would he really change? Or was this just another temporary reprieve in a cycle of cruelty and regret?
Only time would tell, but for now, I was willing to give him—and us—one more chance.
Chapter 6
The drive back to Windmere Haven felt like returning to a different life, one that I wasn’t sure I belonged to anymore. The two weeks on the yacht had been nothing short of a whirlwind, a complete contrast to that first night where Colson's dark side had terrified me. After that night, he’d changed. It was as if he’d flipped a switch, becoming the husband I’d only dreamed he could be.
He treated me like gold, his touch no longer rough but filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache. Our time in the bedroom was intoxicating, every encounter more adventurous and intense than the last. I’d felt desired, cherished even, in a way that made me question everything I thought I knew about him. We toured cities across Europe—Paris, Rome, Venice—each stop more extravagant than the last.
Colson spared no expense, buying me anything I glanced at for more than a second. It was a fairytale, the kind you read about in books, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was lurking beneath the surface, waiting to shatter the illusion.
As we pulled up to the Windmere Haven Country Club, my stomach twisted into knots. Tonight was our first night back, and Colson had insisted on dining at the club. It was a tradition for newlyweds, he’d said. But I knew it was more than that. It was a test, a display of our unity before the eyes of the town that had watched us from the beginning.
“Ready?” Colson asked, turning to me with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
I nodded, forcing a smile of my own. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He reached over, taking my hand in his, and brought it to his lips. The gesture was sweet, almost comforting, but it did little to calm the anxiety roiling inside me.
The valet opened my door, and I stepped out, the cool evening air hitting my skin. I adjusted the hem of my dress, a sleek black number Colson had picked out in Milan. It was elegant, understated, the kind of dress that demanded attention without being too flashy. I was thankful for that tonight. The last thing I wanted was to stand out.
As we walked up the grand steps of the club, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the eyes on us, watching, judging. As usual, Colson’s hand rested possessively on the small of my back, guiding me through the entrance. The club was as opulent as ever, the chandeliers casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors, the air filled with the murmur of polite conversation and the clinking of glasses.
We were greeted by the maître d’, who led us to a table near the center of the dining room. I could feel the stares as we passed, the whispers that followed us like a shadow. Everyone wascurious, wondering if the rumors were true, if the perfect couple had cracks in their facade.
Colson pulled out my chair, a gesture that felt more like a performance than genuine chivalry. I sat down, trying to steady my breath as he took his seat across from me. He reached across the table, taking my hand in again, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, stopping at the diamond encrusted wedding band.
