Chapter 6: Like a Caged Animal

Arianna

He didn’t touch me. Not once. I was his wife, but instead of looking at me, instead of wanting me, he went to find some whore. On our wedding night.

I didn’t know whether to scream or break something. My chest burned, my skin itched, and the small room felt too tight around me.

One part of me—the raw, animal part—wanted to storm down the hall, rip that door open, and drag the woman out by her hair. I pictured it vividly, fists clenched, but I knew I’d probably end up the one on the floor. I’d never been in a fight in my life.

The rational part whispered to stay put. Let him get it out of his system somewhere else, with someone else, so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. Let him scratch whatever itch he thought I couldn’t.

And then there was the last part. The pathetic one. The one that wanted to curl up on the bed, hide under the covers, and cry until morning like a little girl whose birthday party got ruined.

I shoved myself to my feet and nearly tripped over the heavy skirt. Rage mixed with humiliation until it felt like my body couldn’t contain it. I grabbed the tulle with both hands and yanked. Something tore—loud, satisfying—but the corset clung to my ribs like it was part of my skin. I pulled harder, twisting, gasping. I didn’t know if the shortness of breath came from the dress or the emotions choking me.

Air. I needed air.

But leaving meant risking seeing them. Naked. Sweaty. Laughing about me in between. The image slammed into my brain and I gagged so hard I clamped a hand over my mouth. It didn’t help. I bolted for the bathroom and dropped to my knees, retching into the toilet.

Nothing came up but water. I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast—if you could call nibbling half a croissant eating.

The hollow feeling in my gut wasn’t just hunger. It reminded me too much of the years when I’d kept myself empty on purpose. When my mother’s voice had been in my ear every day about how I looked, and my father’s shadow had been over my future, ready to marry me off to whoever offered the right deal. Back then, an empty stomach felt safer than the alternative.

Maybe tonight was just the start of a new round of that kind of emptiness.

I flushed, rinsed my mouth, and splashed water on my face. For a second I thought about stepping into the shower, letting the steam wipe away the day, but I couldn’t even get the damn dress off. My mother had been right about one thing—those ridiculous tiny buttons down the back were a terrible idea.

I gave up and wandered back to the bed, dropping onto it without caring how wrinkled the fabric got. Waiting was all I could do now. Wait for someone to free me from the stupid dress. Wait for morning. Wait for the nightmare to move to the next scene.

Light stabbed through the blinds, landing directly on my face. I groaned and lifted an arm to block it. My eyes cracked open, blurry from lack of sleep. Heat prickled across my cheeks—it was definitely morning.

I stretched, but the movement only made my body feel heavier. My lungs filled with a thickness that made my skin tighten, like I could sense a change in the air.

And then I knew. He was here.

Only Enzo could make my body react like this—heart thudding, pulse kicking hard against my throat, palms damp without my permission.

I blinked away the last of the haze and there he was, leaning against the doorway.

I pushed myself upright quickly, shuffling back until my shoulders hit the headboard. My eyes darted over him before I could stop myself.

He was fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low on his hips, water still dripping from his hair. His body looked like it had been carved, every line of muscle standing out in perfect definition, his golden skin marked with tattoos I didn’t have time to read.

His arms were crossed, his gaze sharp, and for a second I thought I saw it flick over my figure before returning to that cold neutrality he wore like armor.

“Get dressed. We’re flying out in a couple of hours,” he said, his voice deep and flat, as if last night hadn’t happened at all. He turned to leave.

My eyes betrayed me, following the smooth line of his back, the cut of muscle down to the towel. No matter how stunning he was, it didn’t erase what he’d done.

The words slipped out before I could stop them. “At least I hope there’s no one else out there.”

He stopped mid-step.

“What?” His voice was lower now, edged with something that made my pulse jump.

My sudden burst of bravery withered under his stare. I looked down at my lap. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Apparently, he didn’t want to. He turned back toward me, slow and deliberate.

“What are you talking about, Arianna?” Hearing my name in his voice sent an unwanted shiver down my spine. “Did you see or hear something?”

The question hung in the air.

I could tell him. Rip the mask off both of us so we’d know exactly what kind of marriage this would be. The temptation burned in my chest. But then my mother’s voice rose in my memory. Don’t provoke him. It’s better not to confront men or they might get violent.

My mother had always seemed weak for putting up with my father’s arrogance, but maybe that was the only way she’d survived. I didn’t know Enzo, not really. Not yet. Last night had made that painfully clear.

So I swallowed it. The words, the truth, the anger. All of it.

Still, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking broken. I wouldn’t let him see how much he’d hurt me. I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and forced my voice to sound casual.

“No. Last night I slept peacefully. Like a baby.”

I saw something flicker in his eyes—doubt, maybe—but it was gone before I could pin it down.