CHAPTER EIGHT: “We’ve Got Somewhere To Go”

The morning light was a soft, hesitant presence, seeping through the gaps in the curtains. I felt a gentle warmth on my face and stirred. I blinked once, twice, a third time, the world slowly solidifying into focus as my eyes fluttered open. The soft, unfamiliar feeling beneath my body was the first clue.

I was on a cloud. No, not a cloud—a bed. The last thing I remembered was the warm leather of the couch, the heavy weight of exhaustion, and the bitter taste of confusion. But here I was, tucked into a bed that felt like a marshmallow, with sheets so crisp and soft they seemed to whisper.

I sat up, the sheets pooling around my waist. My gaze swept across the room, taking in the details. The air smelled of something clean, a mix of laundry detergent and a faint, sweet floral note. It was a gentle assault on my senses, a stark contrast to the sterile, silent atmosphere of the night before.

The sky-blue curtains, billowing slightly with an unseen breeze, cast a serene, welcoming glow. The walls were a dazzling white, the perfect backdrop for the large, imposing silver wardrobe that stood like a silent sentinel in one corner.

I remembered what this room was—the one I came into and I broke a cosy perfume? I quickly adjusted my sitting posture, my heart pounding against my chest in fear. I tried to look around but I couldn't.

My eyes fell to the bed. Scattered across the pristine white sheets were tiny, vibrant pinpricks of colour. Red rose petals. My heart did a tiny, surprised flutter. I traced a line of them with my finger, the velvety texture, a stark contrast to the smooth cotton.

My hand followed the trail until it found the source: a full bouquet of roses, nestled on the pillow beside me. I picked up the bouquet, bringing the blooms to my face. The scent was pure, deep, and intoxicating—the real, honest smell of a rose, not the cloying, fake scent of a perfume. It was intoxicating, and I took another deep, satisfying breath.

I glanced around the room again, a little thrill of anticipation running through me. I was right to look for more surprises. On the other side of the bed, a soft, fluffy pink teddy bear was propped up against a pillow. And beside it, a small, unassuming paper bag.

My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for it. I pulled out a box and gasped, the sound, a sharp intake of breath. The box was velvet, a rich, dark blue. I opened it to find a single, dazzling object resting on the silk lining. A diamond chain. My hand flew to my mouth, and the only words I could form were a soft, disbelieving whisper. “For me?”

“Yes, for you, wifey.”

His voice, a low, familiar rumble, came from right behind me. A jolt went through me, and I closed the box. I hadn’t heard him come in. Not a single creak of the door, not a whisper of a footstep. It was as if he had simply materialized, a ghost in the ethereal morning light. I turned, my heart doing a strange little dance.

He was standing there, a small smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked tired but content, the shadow of a night's sleep still clinging to him.

Dressed for a mystery outing, he stood before me in a crisp, white long-sleeved shirt, so smoothly ironed it seemed to drink the light. The black trousers he wore were a deep, inky shade, a perfect counterpoint to his rich skin, and his hair, combed back with meticulous care, looked as if it had been sculpted from polished ebony. My mind went blank with admiration, the words I wanted to say catching in my throat. I wondered if he had ever worn something that didn't look perfect on him, and the silent question hummed in the space between us before I finally found my voice.

“Oh… thank you,” I stammered, the words feeling utterly inadequate.

He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight. My muscles tensed for a second, a flicker of the fear from the night before, but it quickly faded. We were married. He was my husband. I was safe.

“You should unbox that,” he said, gesturing to the box in my hand.

I opened it again, my fingers fumbling with the clasp. The chain itself was delicate, a thin whisper of platinum that held sparkling diamonds. But it was the design that made me gasp aloud. Tiny, intricate butterflies were set amongst the gems, and the pendant was a perfect, heart-shaped diamond. It was a masterpiece, a constellation of light. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life,” I breathed, the words tumbling out.

He simply reached for the box. “Let me put that on for you.”

I handed it to him, my hands shaking slightly. He reached around me, his arm brushing my shoulder as he moved to push my hair to the side. The contact was a fleeting, electric spark. I felt a cold shiver trace a line down my spine, a shiver not of fear, but of profound, overwhelming luck.

My mind, unbidden, went to Ethan. All the grand promises, the loud gestures, the expensive dinners, but never once had he done anything so quietly, so genuinely beautiful. It was a thought that came from a place of deep, sudden clarity. Collins, I should have met you since I was born. I muttered the words under my breath, my voice so low that I was sure only I could hear them.

He finished fastening the clasp, the delicate click a soft sound in the quiet room. I looked at him, my face breaking into a wide, unrestrained smile. It wasn't just my lips smiling; my whole face was, my eyes crinkling at the corners. I threw my arms around him, burying my face against his chest. His scent, a mix of clean cotton and a subtle, masculine musk, was a powerful, anchoring presence.

“Thank you! Thank you…” I whispered, the words thick with emotion. I felt a lump in my throat, a pang of something more than just gratitude. It was hope. He was going to save me. He was going to save me from my father. The realization was a powerful, comforting embrace.

The mood, once filled with emotion, shifted abruptly as he hugged me back for a moment, then pulled away, a shift in his posture. “We’ve got somewhere to go,” he said, his voice now a little more business-like.

I pulled back, a slight frown on my face. My eyebrows rose in a gesture of disbelief. I didn't want to go anywhere. I wanted to stay here, in this beautiful, safe cocoon, with him. He didn't seem to notice my silent protest. Not even with my lingering pains.

“Why? Where to? Isn't it too early?” I asked, my voice a rush of curiosity and disappointment.

He got up from the bed, his movements fluid and decisive. “We need to visit my friend, Robert. We’ve been together for eight years, and I want you to put on a very revealing dress for this outing.”