The Tame (ON HOLD)

Of the final destination

They were on the Mediterranean waters now. White and enthusiastic seagulls soared to and fro, calling each other and hunting fish. An island could be seen some thousand yards away.

Phina stood lonely by her open window and contemplated the odds of escaping. She just couldn't bear the brunt of a man whose existence was of fury and bitterness. How could she stay in such a hell-hole of a marriage? She remembered as a teen an ad she read that said, if you can't bear the heat, find out.

She was full of hopes before, but not so much now. There were but few men who could resist the temptation of a paradise-clothed woman: the recluses, the madmen and the eunuchs of old. Brendan was of the aforementioned two. She could make do if he was only a recluse, but the man was downright mad and she hadn't trained as a psychiatric nurse.

The island could be seen clearly now. About thirty percent of the island was rocky, leaving the other percentage a mass of greens and vegetation. Tall, skyscraping coconuts flaunted the shore, and even from this distance she could see the shiny pebbles and cowries twinkling as they caught unto the rays of the afternoon sun.

A dock sat at the nook of a crest, and on the hill rested the most beautiful mansion Phina had ever seen. The domicile was made up entirely of unambiguous glass, and sat about three stories high. It had loads of windows and wide balconies. Under the scrutiny of the bright sun, the glass glistened in a plethora of light like a mini Taj Mahal under moonlight.

Florence had already packed Phina's suitcases and sent them downstairs. It was a good thing, because she felt so weak with tears and shame to be able to do her own packing.

But there was hope: and that was the hope of escaping. It was going to be hard on an island like this. The island of Porto Sergio lay sprawled ahead. The only chance of escaping was to get to that island and find a ferry.

****

Brendan shut his wardrobe with finality and looked around to see if he'd left something out of his packing. Phina's gown lay on his bed. He hadn't slept in it since his erroneous act last night, the armchair had fit him just fine. Walking to the bed, he fetched the dress and slowly brought it under his nose. It smelt of the young woman: a signature of rosemary and scented chamomile.

Some men always gave the excuse that they didn't mean for a mistake to happen, but he wasn't like other men. Last night's deed wasn't a mistake, and yes he had clearly meant to humiliate the young miss. No woman was going to go away scot free with marrying him and amassing a wide percentage of his family's wealth. He had to torment the gorgeous and exotic beauty until she had no fight in her to stay with him any longer.

She was some beautiful thing, he admitted, but not so much as to lure him. She wasn't Kourtney.Beauty was as ephemeral as it was skin-deep. Last night had taken all his willpower and guts to send her away with all her nude glory. She had the face of a teen but the curves of a broadway model.

He had tried so hard to erase the memory of her swollen chest and flat belly from his mind to no avail. That belly which he had no intention of filling with his baby.

He yearned, but he couldn't allow himself to fall prey to a daughter of Eve. He'd lied when he said her body didn't entice him: he was made of flesh after all and not of wood. But the innocent thing was unwitty enough to believe his lie.

She was innocent, and he could use that to his advantage. He was bidding his time until he could bring the murderer of his Kourtney to light. He had found an ace mole in New York who was willing to investigate the case in exchange for an exorbitant amount of money. But money was like a droplet of rain for him, it wasn't an issue.

He didn't realize he had stuffed Phina's gown into his suitcase as he strode to open the door.

A/N: Sorry for the short update. Who thinks escaping is the best course of action for Phina?
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Thanks :)