they were gone, I turned back into the house and stared at the empty kitchen and dining room and wondered how the hell our life had gotten so screwed up.
Less than two weeks ago, I’d walked down the aisle amid a sea of roses and candles and married the man of my dreams in the happiest moment of my life. Today, I was on the verge of losing that man if I didn’t make him remember that we were the only two people in the world who mattered.
This was not the honeymoon I’d envisioned. This wasn’t even close to where I thought we’d be after that day.
I mustered up whatever courage was left inside me, and told myself enough was enough. It was time he dealt with me. And it was way past time we leaned on each other.
5
Luc
I had cabin fever.
After a week being enclosed by these four walls, I was sick of this dainty room and the adjoining balcony that overlooked the lush green lawn and the rocky Scottish coastline beyond. I needed fresh air and a change of scenery, but this damn room was the only place where I was assured I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone or attempt to be social.
Or face my freakin’ wife.
A familiar disgust brewed in my gut when I thought of seeing Natalie. Every time I did...
Maybe I was being a coward, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t look at my own reflection. I couldn’t bare to think what Natalie was seeing or remembering when she looked at me.
Marco hadn’t listened when I’d told him to have Fee whisk Natalie away and set her up with a new identity someplace where my House couldn’t touch her. He hadn’t even listened when I’d told him to get Natalie as far from me as he could. She was still roaming around in this castle, attempting to check on me even though I’d banned her from my room.
As I sat on the chair on my balcony, shivering in nothing but a T-shirt and sweatpants, I cursed this blasted country. Cursed the fact I was here. Cursed everyone, especially Marco for not following my fucking directions.
Very carefully, I leaned back against the cushions, grimacing at the sting in my back. The wounds were all closed. Fee had taken out the majority of the stitches. But the skin was still tender and hurt like a motherfucker if I brushed up against anything too quickly. I didn’t even like the feel of a shirt against my back, but it was too cold to go without.
A knock sounded at the bedroom door. From my spot on the balcony with the French doors open, I didn’t even bother to respond. Marco had been in here less than an hour ago, bugging me. I didn’t need a damn thing, and he knew that.
Hinges creaked in the other room, and I scowled, crossed my arms over my chest, and prepared myself for Marco’s daily you need to get off your ass and start acting human again lecture. The same damn one he’d been leveling me with for the last three days.
But long minutes passed, and it didn’t happen. Marco didn’t appear on the balcony beside me. In fact, he didn’t even say a word from the other room.
Confused about what he was up to this time, I carefully leaned forward so as not to irritate my back, then turned and glanced over my shoulder. Only to wish like hell I hadn’t.
Marco was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Fee. What I did see was my wife, stripping my bed, pulling the dirty sheets off, and replacing them with clean, crisp, fresh ones.
I pushed to my feet and stepped into the room. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Changing your linens.”
Dark, curly hair fell over her cheek as she pulled the used fitted sheet from my bed and wadded it into a ball before crossing and tossing it on the floor near the door. She never once looking up at me, and though I didn’t want her glancing my way at all, irritation pumped hot and fast inside me just the same. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“Tough. It needs to be done.” She straightened and wadded up the top sheet. “This room stinks like BO.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Maybe I like it that way.”
She huffed as she leaned over the bed and tucked the fitted sheet around the corner of the mattress. “I’m sure you do.”
She moved around