once I’m spent, my limbs heavy and my head spinning with the euphoria of such a powerful finish.
Elena keeps one arm around me, her hand braced against my back. I nuzzle my face into the side of her neck, surprised to find that I’m content to stay with her. Usually, I can’t wait to be away from the women I fuck. Attachment isn’t my style, and she knows that as well as I do. Still, she hangs on to me, the metal of her wedding ring pressing into my skin in a stark reminder.
I have a wife … and I think I’m falling head over heels in love with her, even though I know she hates me.
I am so fucking screwed.
24
Elena
A month as Diego’s wife flips all my previous expectations on their heads. When coming into this forced marriage, I anticipated stepping into a new form of imprisonment. All his promises of new freedoms would come at a price—one I wasn’t certain I was willing to pay. It took me about two weeks to realize that Diego is a man of his word.
I think I realized that a while ago, but our married life has confirmed it.
It’s so strange, thinking of him as my husband. Even though there was a wedding and all the pomp and ceremony that goes along with it, I still couldn’t let myself think of it as real at first. Walking down that aisle was easier when I allowed myself to believe this was a temporary steppingstone to freedom. Every day, Diego pulverizes those assumptions into dust.
I won’t pretend he’s perfect, because he’s far from it. But then, I’m the batshit crazy chick who’s finding it easier and easier to succumb to Stockholm Syndrome.
Two days after our wedding—when Diego finally climbed from on top of me and let me leave the bedroom—I was allowed to resume my work at Belleza and have lunch with my sister before she left town to return to Boston. My staff were surprised and happy to see me, and didn’t question my long absence. After answering a ton of questions about the wedding and my ‘whirlwind romance,’ I was stoked to return to my office, where pages upon pages of designs for my planned swimsuit line were waiting for me.
For the past several weeks, my days have been filled with work—which has always given me joy and an outlet for my creativity. My sketching pencils felt odd in my hands, but after a few minutes of preliminary drawing, I fell back into it as if I’d never left. The satisfaction of a hard day’s works makes other aspects of my new life much easier … even enjoyable.
Diego travels with me into the city Monday through Friday, and we occupy a penthouse condo he owns near the Design District—making the drive to work quick and easy. As promised, a set of guards follows me everywhere I go, and Jovan drives me. It’s surprisingly easy to accustom my employees to their presence. The name Diego Pérez is well-known in this city, so none of them seem shocked to learn that he wants me to have security. The guys are now a fixture around the boutique, so much so that I’ve had to get onto my sales associates for flirting with them. They do their best to stay out of the way and focus on their job of protecting me—but I can’t ignore how useful they are to have around on days when new shipments come in.
Diego has accompanied me to Belleza a handful of times, setting up with his phones and laptop in my office and mostly staying out of sight. But every now and then I glance up and find him watching me through the crack in the office door. Sometimes he looks like he wants to take me to the back storeroom, snatch down my pants, and bend me over. Other times, he seems pensive, thinking things I can never hope to figure out. He’s still such a mystery to me, this man who fucks me out of my mind every night and gives me everything I ask for.
After a few weeks of good behavior, I get a new phone—though it’s been customized by Jaime so that I can only call certain numbers. A laptop follows—also secured and encrypted—but it’s enough. I begin to feel more like my own self; free to shop online, answer my emails, and generally engage in a world I’ve been isolated from for months.