CHAPTER SIX: WHO DID I MARRY?

TANYA’S POV

My eyes trailed over my reflection in the mirror as I got rid of all the makeup. My bracelets and accessories made a clattering sound with each one I tossed away.

Anger and hatred surged through me; the image of his face flashed in my head, and the urge to break all his bones soared higher.

Pausing a little, I sent myself glances, taking note of how well my wedding gown complimented me—never had the thought of marriage crossed my mind, but this! This wasn't how I thought it would be.

Granted, it was expensive, no doubt, but I had imagined my wedding to be the ethereal one that would give me butterflies in my belly as I walked down the aisle to my charming prince if I ever decided to.

But definitely not this!

Sighing, my fingers fiddled with my earrings, and soon, it was lying on the table, too.

But what now? What was to happen after the wedding vows? The wedding night? Was I really going to have sex with a man I despised?

Pulling down the sleeves of my dress, I heard the door click open, then his clear footsteps as he trailed in. But I don’t turn. However, I could feel his intense gaze against my bare back.

I continued to struggle with the side zip, hoping he would ignore me and leave. Or were we to stay in a room like married couples?

A soft sigh escaped my lips.

It's funny how I never got to tell him my condition. Now that it crossed my mind, would he have really killed me if I said no?

The scent of his cologne wafted into my nose as he materialized beside me, undoing the zip instead. Our fingers touched barely before I pulled my hand away. He fiddled with it for a while, my heart pound rate increasing with each second his touch lingered on my skin.

“Didn't know it would be tight,” He confessed, his words slicing through the thickened atmosphere.

“No problem, it's over now,” I responded and felt him take a few steps back after the sip came undone.

Without thinking, I slipped out of the dress and stood there in my black-laced underwear.

Fuck!

He was still here.

I tried to cover myself, feeling my cheeks burn under his gaze, but then he turned around. “I'm going out,” he mumbled, taking something from the drawer.

“You're not even going to spend some time with me on our wedding night?” The words slipped out before I could think straight.

He froze, then turned to send him a long stare. A dry laugh rumbled through his throat.

“We're not actually married, Tanya. Feel free to get some sleep and move around the house. Later.” He informed me, and I immediately felt stupid.

Without saying anything else, he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

No sex!

It's not like I wanted it, but come on? I was supposed to stay married to a man who didn't even look surprised to see me half-naked.

Creeping onto the bed, I took a deep breath, my eyes darting around the room.

This was my life now, living here, pretending to be the perfect wife. Maybe if I played along, he'd let me move around, and he'd let me go out. I'd gain his trust, and the moment he let his guard down, I'd run away and never look back.

The lukewarm water cascaded down my hair, washing away the grime of the day. I scrubbed my body meticulously, trying to erase not just the dust but the lingering scent of fear of being held captive in a gilded cage.

When I stepped out, towel clutched, my reflection in the mirror was a stranger. Dark circles under my eyes, a tense line etched between my brows.

This wasn't the Tanya who was naive and hopeful. This was the woman who'd danced with death, tasted betrayal, and lived to tell the tale through the scars that hung desperately on her face.

I made my way to my side of the wardrobe, which he had instructed the maids to prepare. There were a few clothes there, new ones. In the end, I chose a free-flowing flora nightgown and slipped it on, the cotton soft against my skin, before heading downstairs.

As I descended, the grandeur of the mansion revealed itself, but my attention was quickly drawn to two men dressed in black stationed by each exit. Bodyguards, a constant presence in Rodrigo's world

A shiver ran down my spine. This wasn't just a home anymore; it was a fortress, and I was the unwilling prisoner.

A young woman, eyes wide with something akin to terror, jumped as I cleared my throat.

"Is there anything to eat?" I asked, forcing a smile. "I'm famished.” I completed.

My eyes moved over her face. She looked weary and tired, as though she had seen death too. Her wrinkles were hiding under her makeup.

Poor soul!

One day, I would love to hear how she got her.

“I, uh, I was just preparing some rice, Señora," she stammered, her gaze darting between me and the doorway.

"Rice sounds wonderful," I smiled, trying to dispel the tension hanging heavily in the air.

“Why the long face?" I ventured, my smile faltering. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Her lips trembled. "It's nothing, Señora," she mumbled. But the tremor in her voice was like a crack in a dam, revealing a torrent of fear.

I knew the source—Rodrigo's ruthlessness.

“Bring the food up to my room, please," I said, my voice laced with a quiet authority that surprised even me.

Later, the food arrived. The rice was fluffy and smelt delicious. Despite the tension coiled in my stomach, I found myself savoring each bite.

When I finished, I decided to take the plates downstairs to wash them.

I had already grabbed the sponge when the maid walked in, finding me at the sink, "You don't need to do that, Miss Tanya,” she protested, taking the plates with hurried hands.

"It's no trouble," I said, a genuine smile gracing my lips. "What's your name?”

“Maria," she mumbled, her gaze flitting to the door again.

My eyes followed hers, and there was nothing but a bodyguard standing there. Rodrigo’s CCTV. Would he kill her, too, if she made a simple mistake?

"Well, Maria, thank you for the delicious food," Turning towards her, I informed warmly. "It's been a long day. Have a good day.” I added and made my way out of the room.

My eyes took a last glance at the heavily built men littered everywhere like garbage.

I was nothing but a prisoner now, but not for long because I was going to find all means to get out of this place.

Even if it meant seducing the Devil.

I retreated to my room, the weight of solitude pressing down on me. I sank onto the bed, exhaustion finally claiming me.

Sleep, however, was a reluctant visitor. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of wind against the window, sent my heart into a frantic drumbeat.

Suddenly, the door burst open, slamming against the wall, and he stumbled in, The Devil. His face was a mask of pain and fury, his clothes stained with blood and dirt. His palms were left out.

He looked bruised up and bloody, as though he just killed an entire town.

Limping towards me, I caught his eyes blazing with a raw emotion I couldn't decipher.

Concerned, I rose to my feet, my voice cautious, "What happened, Rodrigo?”

My heart racing.

Who was this man?