“Yes. Go straight to our bedroom,” Devious answers.
I nod and pivot up the stone staircase and hide behind a Greek statue.
I can do this. I can do this. This is one step closer to my freedom.
Exhaling loudly, I peek out the door. Devious and Nero exchange a few more words, and Devious storms off, so I run off toward the main entrance and grab my phone from my clutch and dial Tommy’s number. He picks up on the second ring.
“Where are you?” I ask in my most calm voice.
“I’m on the property now. I’m parked in front of the mansion, standing next to my truck.”
“I’ll be right there.” My pulse thumps in my neck as I hit the End button.
Butlers and waitresses are too busy bringing trays of food and drinks to the backyard to notice me. As my heels click against the marble floor, I glance over my shoulder to make sure Devious doesn’t have any of his men following me.
Once the heat of the sun shines on my face, anxiety eats at me. I need to make this quick and fast and make sure no one sees me with Tommy. Butterflies set off in my stomach.
I place my hands over my forehead, shielding myself from the scorching heat. My eyes land on Tommy, and he waves his hand. I search the premises, and there isn’t a guard in sight. Strange. Maybe they went inside to join the party.
I rush up to him and give him a hug then he hands me a wooden box.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome.” His tone is smooth. “When you get to Frankfurt, let me know. We can go clubbing. My parents own a house there.”
“I will.” I give him another friendly hug, and kiss on the cheek before storming off to the bedroom.
I step out of the elevator and open the box. I pick up my IDs with the fake name. This is going to be my new life. I will no longer be Roselyn, but Sharon Conner. As I unzip my suitcase, I place the box in there. All our clothes are already hanging up in the closet of his manor, so Devious wouldn’t have any reason to look here.
The bloodthirst to kill Devious is growing stronger by the day, and I can’t wait to be free from this life.
Roselyn
“Hold still,” Marla says, tightening the strings on the back of my lace corset dress with the hem flaring at the end.
How can women breathe in this?The fabric is so tight around my torso, I feel as if I’m going to burst any minute.
“You’re going to be so beautiful once I’m done with you.” Her tone is filled with so much delight, she might turn into Mary Poppins.
We’re in a powder room in the manor. I stare at myself in the mirror. My thick hair is straight, my makeup is light and natural, and my lips are painted red. I look like a classy prostitute.
For the last few hours, Marla has been grooming me like a poodle.
“Walk toward the floor-length mirror,” she orders.
My chest cavity burns, and my stomach aches from this damn corset. I put one foot in front of the other as I walk on the cold slab of marble. “How can I? I can barely breathe.”
“Sorry.” She loosens the strings a bit, grabs my shoulder, and spins me around to face her. She assesses me from head to toe, tapping her finger on her chin.
“Where are the heels?” she asks.
I point to the closet, and she disappears and returns with a pair of beige heels. I slide my feet into the tight shoes.
Her eyes brim with tears. She grabs the tiara and veil from the dresser and places them on my head. “You are so beautiful. Devious is a lucky man to marry someone as pretty as you.”
Bitterness bubbles in my chest as my lips curl up in disgust. This is bullshit. I’m so sick of being used as a pawn and feeling like I’m collateral damage. Tears gloss over my eyes as I ball my fists, digging my nails into my palms.
“Can you leave, please? I need a few minutes to myself.”
