Submitting To The Devil - The Devil's Snare - Book 2

Chapter Twenty Five

Bianca

The bed feels foreign and lonely. The sheets are harsh andcool, yet contemplating asking Niko to join me to make me feel less lonely after the last few hours of tenderness between us feels like a far-fetched fantasy that's most definitely not reachable.

So I persevere, replaying today over in my mind on fast forward as I agonise over every interaction I have had, said and done.

I should have told him about my virginity and who took it.

I should have run.

I shouldn't have kissed him.

I should let him in...

Arguing with myself seems pointless, yet I keep coming to the same conclusions.

I toss and turn and sigh into the silent, dark room, puffing the pillow because, despite its depth, I still sink into it. The bed faces the window, looking out over the ocean, which is a huge blockade between this island and the freedom I could have had if not for giving up a perfectly presented chance for him, for Niko.

I don't know why he has me so loyal to him. It's not like we've had a great past. I mean, look at the last few weeks. We've fought, he even brought a girl home to fuck.

Do I mean anything to him at all?

And let's not talk about Emma and Luca.

Christ, it's as if I owe them my life when they owe me mine equally.

I could have pulled that trigger on Emma and ended this all together. I could have taken my place at the head of my name.

But she means more to you than your parents did!

She does. Emma's protected me for much of my life. But the hurt of her leaving me, ultimatelygiving my father the opportunityto corrupt me as much as he seems to have corrupted any other person in his life, is worse than the death sentence that she placed on me.

At some point, I must fall asleep, the dark ocean waves lulling me into a false sense of security. But much like every other night, my dreams plague me.

Dark rooms, my father...and him.

My arms dangled above my head, the rope cutting into the soft flesh as I thrashed about, trying with all my might to keep that innocence that evaded me.

"It's okay, littlebee. You were meant for this," my father's voice ends with a chuckle.

I gasped awake into the early morning, my breaths coming laboured. My hand grabbed at my throat, much as he was going to do before my body ended the nightmare in precisely the same place it always ends.

I guess I should thank my mind for that, honestly. At least I don't have to relive those next moments over and over again. Despite that, I still shudder because those images are never far from my conscious mind.

With my heart still pounding, I warn myself that it's just another nightmare, but it all feels too real. The memories are more like the real thing.

"Bad dream?" Niko asks sleepily, making me gasp for a different reason. He's lying topless beside me, his eyes only open a slit. Now I realise his hand lays across my waist, and my feet are touching his as we remain tangled against one another.

"What are you doing in my bed?" I ask, though I really want to ask something else.

Oh no, I'd instead reprimand him for not waking me. Ask when he graced me with his presence. And most importantly, did he hold me all night as I wished him to? But I say none of those things.

"There's only one room with a bed in it," he shrugs as if I should have known this. That doesn't ring true to my ears. Why would there only be one room with a bed when this house is as large as it is?

"Bullshit," I spit though there's no conviction in my tone. None whatsoever.

"Go check. I'm not lying,Bee," he suggests, sounding more tired of my behaviour than he has of all the things that have happened around us of late.

Guilt tries to hold me captive, but I brush it aside to act like a petulant child.

"'Course you're not," I frown.

Rising from the bed, I walk away from him to do just that. Surely he's lying?

He has to be; otherwise, how do I remain fake angry at him?

My feet slap softly on the tiled floor when I walk down the hall, opening both bedroom doors one after the other.

He's not lying. Two other rooms are filled with god knows what and covered in dust sheets, keeping the dust from settling. And yet there's not one speck of dust on the floor, leading me to believe they've not been placed there long.

"Breakfast?" Niko calls from behind me. He's just mounted the first step, walking down without so much as looking at me. Each muscle around his torso contracts with his movements, making me swallow loudly, hating my body's reaction to him.

"I'm sorry," I call after him as I trail behind in a hurry. He chuckles but doesn't say anything further as he turns back to give me a reassuring smile.

We both walk into the kitchen and find already plated food lying on the countertop. My stomach drops as anxiety overtakes me.

"I thought you said we were the only ones on the island?" I whisper.

"We are; there's only one house," he replies so very quietly that my gut churns even more. Is there danger lurking if he sees the need to be quieter than I was? We can't hide; the walls are all made of glass, for fucks sake. "Perhaps Dimitri had this sent for us?"

I watch him walk to the plates, reaching down to the counter to pick up a folded piece of paper. He reads it as I gather closer, feeling the need to stick close by in case I need him to protect me. My fingers brush his boxer waistband, and then he speaks, making me jump back from touching him out of guilt.

"See. He had us sent breakfast."

"Who sends a man forty miles from the mainland shore to give us breakfast at whatever time it is in the morning?"

"Dimitri does," he smiles unsurely, taking a plate before sitting at the other end of the counter where bar stools line the countertop.

Following suit, I do the same, collecting a plate of olives, meats, cheese and mini pastries to sit beside him.

We eat silently for a while, and I glance down at the forgotten note.

I hope you enjoyed your first night as a married couple. A man will be waiting at the shore edge to be at your disposal. Sightseeing is quite remarkable on the Island of Grace. Perhaps an unspoken heir would be acceptable in around nine months.

Dimitri.

An heir. I almost snort.

My child will be nothing but a hidden secret kept from the world in case we step on Emma's child's toes.

Food forgotten, I push the plate away before turning to Niko. He's staring at me with a soft look of something I can't place on his face.

"So," he begins. "How about that sightseeing?"

"Sightseeing?"

"The island is quite beautiful from the ocean," he nods.

"I've nothing to wear but bikinis, Niko."

"Use my shirt to cover up," he suggests, leaning forward to rub his thumb at the corner of my mouth. He brushes flakes of croissant away, staring into my eyes, holding me captive in his gaze.

I will him to leave forward to kiss me. To claim me. To take away my choice to make me submit to him.

Isn't that what men like him do?

Isn't that what women like me want?

"Let's have a good day. Enjoy this holiday for what it is. It's not often people like us have time away to enjoy one another's company," Niko tells me. He pinches my chin with a playful smirk, then releases me, walking out of the kitchen to presumably get ready for the day, leaving my mouth wide open.

People like us...?