His Entertainer

Chapter 37

                         IVY SILVER POV.

Exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.
I'd spent the day preparing for an event I dreaded, an event Wilmert insisted I attend.  "We'll be back before you know it," he'd promised, pressing a kiss to my lips. I frowned, instinctively recoiling.

"Don't do that," he'd said, his voice low.

"Do what?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"That," he'd replied, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he pulled me close, capturing my lips in a kiss that dissolved into laughter.

He broke the kiss, his warm gaze holding mine captive for a long, breathless moment before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "You have no idea what I would do for you," he'd murmured, the sincerity in his voice tinged with a chilling undercurrent. "You have no idea how many innocents I'd kill for you."  His words hung in the air, unspoken implications lingering between us. I wanted to reciprocate, to meet his gaze with the same intensity and declare my devotion, but I couldn't.  A deep-seated guilt, a heavy weight of deception, held me back.  To do so would be a lie, a betrayal of a truth I couldn't yet articulate.

"Alright," he sighed, frustration etching itself onto his features. "It's time. After you."  I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze; I knew the disappointment would be etched in his eyes, adding to my already heavy burden of guilt.  I turned and walked away without a word.

"You look amazing," Lucia exclaimed, her smile warm and genuine. Sonia's hug was equally comforting. "Make sure you enjoy yourself," she whispered, her words a gentle encouragement.  I returned the hug, a small smile playing on my lips, a mask concealing the turmoil within.

The party was a spectacle of wealth and power.  Women adorned with priceless jewels, men exuding an aura of authority and control.  I walked in with Wilmert, his hand a possessive claim on mine. He paused to speak with several men, his partners, I assumed, judging by their easy camaraderie.  They all inquired about me, his "escort," and, with a practiced ease, he introduced me as his girlfriend.  Hermann would never have done that.  With Wilmert, I felt important, valued; with Hermann, I was merely an object, a possession.  Yet, the thought of Hermann haunted me, a forbidden desire that gnawed at my conscience.  The closer I got to him, the more he burned me, the more pain he inflicted, yet the fear didn't deter me.  The guilt, however, was a constant companion, a heavy weight on my chest.

"What's this event about?" I whispered in his ear, my voice barely audible above the music. He took a sip of wine, then turned, his voice booming across the room.  "I remember meeting you in the garden outside your house," he announced, his words drawing everyone's attention.  My eyes widened in alarm; I tried to signal him to stop, but he ignored me, his gaze fixed on me, bathing me in an unwanted spotlight.

"I remember having a bad day," he continued, his voice resonating with emotion. "And the moment I saw you, your warm smile lit up my world.  From that moment, Ivy, I knew you were everything I wanted.  And from then on, I vowed to do anything to keep you by my side."  His words hung in the air, a declaration of love and possessiveness.  Tears pricked my eyes.  "You're all I've ever wanted," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You complete me. Ivy Silver, you don't know what I would do for you."  He dropped to one knee, producing a magnificent diamond ring. "Marry me," he pleaded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.  "Marry me so I can keep my sanity." But how could I say yes when my heart still ached for Hermann?

Then, Norman's words, cruel and sharp, pierced through the celebratory atmosphere:  "You and him can never be! You're a whore to him!"

The sky seemed to fall.  "Yes," I whispered, the word a betrayal, a lie that echoed in my soul.  Hermann had never knelt, never begged, yet the emptiness in my heart screamed that this was wrong.

The cheers erupted around me. Wilmert's joy was palpable, a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. He slipped the ring onto my finger, his embrace tight and possessive.  "You're everything I ever wanted," he murmured. "Thank you," I choked out, before breaking away.  "I need the restroom," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

The ladies' room offered a brief respite, a sanctuary from the suffocating pressure of the celebration.  The solitude was a relief, a moment to catch my breath, to let the tears flow freely.  The pain in my chest was a vise, squeezing the air from my lungs. I splashed water on my face, seeking a moment of clarity.

Then, a touch, familiar yet terrifying, sent a shiver down my spine.  It was a touch that both burned and melted me.  I looked in the mirror, and there he was, the man I both feared and longed for, his gaze a mixture of possessiveness and longing.

"Bellà," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

"Hermann," I breathed, the name a mixture of fear and desire.

He stepped closer, his gaze intense. "I've been searching for you," he said, his voice a blend of urgency and possessiveness.  "Like crazy."

"Stop, Hermann," I pleaded, my voice trembling.  "I'm engaged. I'm not your toy anymore."

"I don't give a fuck," he said, his voice hard, yet there was a desperate plea in his eyes. He took my hand, his touch sending a jolt through me.  "Bellà, come with me."

"You don't give a fuck about anyone or how they feel," I cried, my voice rising in anger.  "You hurt me, Hermann!  You want me to come with you so you and your new wife can have a plaything?"

"Bellà…" he whispered, his voice softening.

"Don't call me that!" I shouted, tears streaming down my face. "You have no idea how suffocating it was with you!"

He pulled me close, his arms a comforting cage. "I know," he said, his voice low and tender. "I'm the hardest to understand, and I'm sorry for making it harder for you." He stroked my hair, his scent a familiar comfort.  He kissed my forehead, wiping away my tears. "But I'm sorry, I have to upset you a little more. I don't give a damn how many rings he puts on your finger."

I looked up at him, defiance battling with desire. "Would it kill you to let me go?" I asked.

"If not with me, yes. It would kill me," he said, his words shocking in their intensity.

"I'm not yours to keep," I insisted, clenching my fists. How dare he invade my engagement party, disrupt my life? His words were empty promises, a game to him, but to me, they were a dangerous siren song.

"Let's find out, shall we?" he murmured, lifting me onto the countertop. His hands moved under my dress, cupping my breast. I gasped. "All of this belongs to me," he whispered, his lips trailing kisses down my neck. I moaned, my body betraying my resolve. He turned my face to the mirror.  "You are mine," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "And I will kill anyone who touches you."

I gasped as his fingers found their way between my legs, his touch igniting a fire within me. I held him tighter, my body arching against his, my moans a testament to my surrender. He looked down at me, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "I was right after all," he whispered. "You've always been mine to keep." He withdrew his fingers slowly, his gaze locked on mine. He kissed my forehead, then left without a word.

I sighed, utterly defeated. "Fuck," I whispered, the word a mixture of frustration, desire, and utter bewilderment. How could it be so easy.

Thanks for reading this chapter my sweet readers, stay tuned for more upcoming ones.
NB: ignore any grammatical mistakes.
Your support is my strength.