Page 65 of Marry Lies
Time to find out what you’re hiding, husband.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
THE CELLAR
Stella
I scour the castle to quell my nerves, ensuring that Miles is most likely down in the cellar before heading down there. My nerves are raw, both from the intense dinner we had and the adrenaline at possibly finding out what he could be hiding from me. I’d rather be disappointed than surprised. To do that, I am imagining the worst possible outcomes. A dungeon full of women. A secret family. A bomb shelter. A room full of pictures of me. Sex dolls. My mind runs wild with possibilities, though it could also be something entirely innocent, like restoring old cars.
Whatever it is, I have a right to know as his wife.
That’s what I tell myself when I quietly and quickly slip the brass key into the lock, turning it and pulling the door open. It’s a dark stairwell leading down into the unknown, and my hands shake nervously as I begin my descent. To calm myself, I count each stair as I pad downward, grateful that I’m barefoot and can be as quiet as possible. Also, the stairs are made of stone–no creaking or loose floorboards to give me away.
The farther down I go, the more I hear.
It starts as a light, rustling sound. I slowly go down the last few stairs, and when I meet the cellar ground, I go still as I take in my surroundings.
To my right is an ordinary cellar, filled with cooking essentials, wine, and a large shelf full of tools and gadgets. Presumably, this is the makeshift garage. The lighting is low, and I’m thankful for that as I tiptoe to my right, where a white door awaits me.
The rustling sound is coming from there.
God, what-if it’s more goats?
I briefly close my eyes and take a deep breath. There’s no backing out now. I’m already down here, so I may as well see what he’s keeping locked away—possibly literally.
I pause.
This could change everything. He opened up to me tonight, and right now, I sort of feel like I’m betraying the trust he so carefully placed in me. It could destroy the headway we’re just starting to make. That thought gives me pause, and I stare at the door for several seconds.
I need to know what he’s hiding.
Ideserveto know, as someone bound to him in holy matrimony.
After one more steadying breath, I reach out and turn the handle.
As I push the door inward a crack, I lean forward to peek inside. Obviously, Miles is inside—I can hear what sounds like…slapping?
Oh god, what-if he’s having sex? What-if this is his sex room?
As my eyes adjust to the darkened room, I nearly gasp out loud at what I see.
The first thing that becomes very evident is the size of this room. It must be double the size of our living quarters—almost the size of a gymnasium. In the center, there’s a glass room about the size of my bedroom. It’s lit from within, giving the rest of the cellar room a soft glow. And inside the glass encasement is…
My other hand comes to my mouth as I see two people having sex.
Very, very rough sex.
What…the…fuck.
The man–a blond–is bent over a small, curvy redhead. He has her pushed against the bed, his hand on the base of her neck as he pounds into her.
She groans, and I realize with a start that though the room looks soundproof, every sound is broadcast all over the cellar room. I can even hear the way the woman grips the sheets, the rustling of the fabric against her long nails evident all around me.
“That’s it,” the man growls, his voice a low, pleasurable purr.
I squeeze my thighs together at the very arousing scene before me.
What the hell is this?
