Taming the Bitch (COMPLETED)

Chapter XIX - Morning After

Vincent adjusted himself, drawing Gabrielle closer as she sobbed softly in her sleep. She wore the satin nightgown he had found in her closet, the fabric delicate against her skin.

"Ssshhh..." he whispered, tapping her hip gently, running his hands along her back in slow, soothing strokes. She curled against him like a small child, and he felt a pang of sorrow at how fragile she had become.

"Hush, love..." he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. If only he could lift her pain, take away the weight of her anger and fear, he would. But all he could do now was hold her, be patient, and let her find trust in time.

"Don't leave me... please... save me from them... dad..." Her murmured words, tangled in dreams and fear, cut through him. She was reliving past horrors, the betrayals and losses that had shaped her into someone so wary of love.

"I'm here, Bella... always," he whispered, smoothing her hair. She pressed herself closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, seeking comfort in the one person she feared most.

"I'll never leave you... even if you push me away," he promised, tightening his embrace. Her lips trembled against his chest, words lost to sleep.

"He'll only hurt me... don't abandon me to him... dad..."

"He won't, Bella. I won't let him... I won't let anyone..." Vincent murmured, kissing the crown of her head. Slowly, her body relaxed, her breathing steadying, until she fell asleep entirely in his arms—for the first time since their wedding.

"I will never let him... or myself... hurt you," he whispered again, closing his eyes and pressing her into his muscled frame. She curled into him instinctively, their bodies intertwined, a semblance of intimacy forged from shared pain.

By the time the sun rose, Gabrielle awoke with a groan, her body sore from the night's embrace. She lifted her arms stiffly, pressing her hands into her hair, wincing as every muscle protested. The warmth beside her reminded her with a jolt: she was lying on top of her husband. Naked in his arms, in nothing but a thin red lingerie that barely covered her, she swore under her breath.

"Sleep a little more, baby..." Vincent's voice rumbled softly against her ear, and instinctively she pushed him away.

"Y-you... f-ck...!" she stammered, glaring at him as his eyes, adjusting to the moonlight filtering in, met hers.

"For God's sake, Bella..." His husky whisper was warm, disarming. "Go back to sleep."

He gently held her hand, looping his arm around her waist. She stiffened, muscles taut, resisting, but he pressed her head to his chest, soothing, caressing her hair with deliberate tenderness. Slowly, she surrendered, her body relaxing against his.

"Sleep, baby... I won't... ever... let you go..." His lips brushed her forehead, then the bridge of her nose. "Just let me in... let me embrace the pain until it fades."

By nine, Gabrielle woke for real, sunlight spilling over her face, a merciless reminder that last night's warmth had been only partially hers. She groaned, reaching for the clock, realizing she'd slept late and in a bed that wasn't hers—or at least, not one she had expected to occupy.

The memories of last night came rushing back: the secret garden, the wedding gown, the nightmares, the solace of his arms. And then—the dreamlike continuation, where he had held her, kissed her, whispered promises.

Her chest burned at the memory, and she recoiled, cursing herself for the lingering effect of those dreams. Vincent. Her husband. The gold-digging, power-hungry man who had entrapped her.

"You're finally awake..." His voice made her jolt. There he was, approaching in a thick bathrobe, carrying a tray of breakfast.

"I didn't want to wake you... I hope you slept well, Bella."

Her hand instinctively braced against him as he leaned close, brushing strands of hair from her face. "You hungry?" He placed the tray carefully on the bedside table, then cupped the back of her neck, brushing his lips against hers in an unbidden kiss.

"Y-you...!" She pushed, hands on his chest, eyes wide.

"You're lovelier than the morning, wife," he whispered after pulling back, smiling as though no resistance could deter him.

"Prepared some breakfast for us..." He adjusted a strand of hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek with his thumb before pressing another soft kiss to her lips. She shoved him away, outraged.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Vincent merely looked at her, amused, before softening. He reached for her hand.

"Don't touch me!" she barked, jerking it away.

"Bella... we need to talk," he said firmly, holding on.

"Get out, Walton! There is nothing to talk about!" she snapped.

"I'm your husband now, Gabby. You're my wife. We have to make this work."

"Hah! Work? There is nothing to work out! You're a stranger, bought with money and greed! And my father... my father...!" Her voice cracked with fury as she shoved him again and planted her feet on the cold floor.

Vincent moved with her, hands steady on her waist. "Stay, Gab. Don't make this harder than it already is. We're married—for real. Let's at least try."

Her eyes glistened with tears, and he pressed her hand to his lips, whispered softly, "Let me love you..."

Their gazes locked. Chocolate brown met piercing blue, sadness mirrored in both.

"We met at the strangest times, Bella... married under the cruelest circumstances... but we can make this work. You just have to trust me." He kissed the curve of her stomach, holding her hand, grounding her.

"Trust you...?" Her voice was trembling. She pushed his shoulder, hesitant yet drawn.

He lifted her chin gently, pressing their foreheads together. "I have faith in us," he whispered. He drew her closer, lips meeting hers tentatively—but she flinched, tearing away.

"Trust... faith...?" Her voice wavered. "Those are strong words for a loser like you... for a tramp like me! The only thing I trust is death!" She laughed bitterly, pushing him away, tears streaming.

"I've fallen for it once... never again. NEVER."

Vincent's gaze softened, unwavering as he watched her retreat. "You're the one who should cut the act... and just let me in, Gab..." He looked down at their wedding rings, silent and resolute. "All you ever needed was love... love I am ready to give... if only you let me."