Page 13 of Entrapped
I lowered my voice, not wanting to be overheard. “Melissa Hartley invited me to tea this Sunday.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Colson’s lips. “I’m glad you’re getting along with the other ladies.”
I took a sip of the wine, letting the cool liquid calm my nerves. “I think it’s more that they want to get close to the new Mrs. Ashworth, possibly for a donation to their charities or projects.”
Colson’s hand slid into mine, his grip warm and possessive. “Whatever the reason, enjoy it. We start work on Monday, and I want you to be well-rested and relaxed.”
“I am,” I replied, a hint of irony in my voice. “It was a lovely honeymoon after that first night on the yacht.”
His expression darkened, his brows drawing together in a frown. “Please don’t bring that up again. I feel guilty enough.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of his words. Guilt? Did he even know what that felt like? But I swallowed the retort, knowing it would do no good to provoke him. “I won’t. I promise.”
Colson leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I want to bury my face between your legs when we get home.”
My breath hitched, and I felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the wine. Despite everything, his touch still had a way of unraveling me. Since that night on the yacht, he had been different—gentler, more attentive. And though I wasn’t sure if I could ever fully trust him, I found myself drawn to this side of him, the side that made me feel desired and cherished.
As we made our way back to our table, the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation surrounded us. I could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, but it didn’t bother me as much now.I had survived my first night back in Windmere Haven’s society as Mrs. Ashworth, and I was beginning to see that maybe—just maybe—I could survive whatever else lay ahead.
My husband reached across the table, his hand gripping mine, it was firm, a silent command to play my part. He was the master of this world, and I was the new addition everyone wanted to dissect.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of polite conversation and carefully curated smiles. The food was exquisite, but I barely tasted it. My thoughts kept drifting back to Colson’s earlier whisper, the promise of what awaited us at home.
It was a stark contrast to the Colson I had known before the honeymoon. He had transformed from the cold, calculating man who had frightened me that first night on the yacht into someone who seemed to genuinely care for my pleasure, if not my well-being.
But even as I relished the thought of his touch, a small voice in the back of my mind warned me not to let my guard down. This was Colson Ashworth, after all. He was a man who could change his demeanor as easily as changing a shirt, and I couldn’t afford to forget that.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Colson signaled for the check. We made our way to the car, his hand once again resting on the small of my back. The drive home was quiet, the tension from the evening slowly dissolving as we left the country club behind.
As we pulled into the driveway of our estate, Colson turned to me, his eyes dark with intent. “I meant what I said earlier, Joey.”
A shiver ran down my spine, anticipation and anxiety intertwining. “I know.”
We didn’t say another word as we entered the house, Colson guiding me up the stairs, through the darkened hallways, and into our bedroom. The moment the door closed behind us, he was on me, his hands sliding down my back, pulling me close.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he murmured against my neck, his lips brushing my skin.
His touch was possessive, but not harsh. It was as if he was reminding me who I belonged to, yet there was a tenderness there that made my heart race for an entirely different reason. His hands slid down to the zipper of my dress, and he slowly pulled it down, the fabric slipping off my shoulders and pooling at my feet.
“I want to take my time with you,” Colson said, his voice husky. “To make you forget everything else.”
And for a moment, I let myself believe him. I let myself get lost in the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, this was real. That he could be the man I needed him to be. The man who could love me, not just own me.
But even as his hands and lips worked their magic, a small part of me remained tense. I only let it drain away as my orgasm unraveled me and took all rational thought from my head. Yes, I was learning to play the game and I would win.
Chapter 7
I held the sewing box in my hands, the ornate wood cool and smooth beneath my fingertips. The weight of it was familiar, almost comforting, as I made my way down the long hallway toward Colson’s office. My pulse thrummed steadily, and I focused on keeping my breathing calm. I had to be careful now, more careful than ever.
The wedding, the honeymoon—those were distractions, a carefully crafted facade. Now, with all the pomp and circumstance behind us, it was time to get back to what really mattered. The Shaw legacy. The truth. My vengeance.
When I reached Colson’s office, I paused, pressing my ear against the door. Silence. I took a deep breath and slowly turned the knob, stepping inside with deliberate caution. The room was as I’d last seen it: dark wood paneling, rich leather furniture, and that ever-present scent of polished wood and old money.
But there was something different this time. A prickling sensation at the back of my neck made the hair on my arms stand up. It felt like I was being watched.
As I entered the room, my gaze drifted to the closet. The box marked Shaw. The one
I’d seen before, the one that had held… all the secrets. Something Colson had taken great care to hide. But as I opened the closet door and peered inside, my heart sank. The box was gone. In fact, the entire space was devoid of anything.
