Chapter Four

“You are wasting time, Cynthia,” he said.

Thank God he didn’t see through our lies. But how could I strip before a stranger, a stranger whose eyes held no warmth, no tenderness, only coldness?

I glanced at him again and froze. The deadly look on his face made me tremble. With shaky fingers, I reached for my zip and slowly pulled it down, his gaze fixed on me like a predator eyeing its prey.

The dress slid off my shoulders, pooling at my feet. I stood there in nothing but my bra and panties, shame burning through me. Taking a deep breath, I unhooked my bra, baring my breasts. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but his expression remained unreadable. Finally, I slid down my panties until I stood completely naked before him. A stranger oh my God.

This was something I had never allowed Maxwell, the man I once thought I loved. All he had ever stolen from me was a kiss. And now here I was, stripped bare, wondering if this was how I would lose my precious virginity.

“Climb on the bed,” his gruff voice commanded.

I obeyed, my legs weak, and lay down with my eyes shut tight.

“Open your eyes, little wife.”

Slowly, I obeyed, meeting his piercing gaze.

“I see you are untouched,” he murmured as he leaned closer, his voice rough yet controlled. For a moment, I thought it was over, that he would claim me without hesitation. But instead, he pulled back.

“I won’t take your first night from you. You will give it to me willingly.”

The breath I didn’t know I was holding rushed out of me in relief.

He stepped off the bed and left the room without another word. Quickly, I grabbed my panties and slipped them on. When I opened the wardrobe, my heart sank.

Inside were rows of clothes, every single one in purple. My sister’s favorite color.

A strange twist of emotion curled inside me, jealousy, anger, confusion. I couldn’t tell.

I pulled out a purple nightdress and slipped it on before crawling onto the bed. Exhaustion dragged me under, and I drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Morning came quickly, too quickly, and I woke to the sight of breakfast placed neatly beside me. A smile tugged at my lips, but it faded the moment I looked around, I couldn’t find him.

Where could he have gone so early?

I was still wondering when he walked out of the bathroom with a towel on his waist and I felt my cheek heat up.

“Little wife, how was your night ?”

Fine, sir,” I murmured, keeping my head bowed.

“Eat up, freshen up, we’re going out.”

We? The word rang in my head, but I swallowed the question. Instead, I dragged myself to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and returned to the meal.

Justin was still seated, his gaze never once lifting from the laptop before him. Not a glance. Not a word. I ate in silence, my stomach knotted tighter than the fork in my hand. When I finished, I reached for the plate.

“Leave it. We have Maids to that wife,” he said flatly.

Wife. The title lingered, curling strangely inside me. I didn’t know why I liked the sound of it. Maybe because it hinted at belonging, even if it wasn’t real.

I crossed to the wardrobe. The hinges groaned as I opened it, running my hand over rows of dresses until my fingers caught on a backless purple velvet one. I clutched it, grabbed a clean set of undies, and turned toward the bathroom.

“Dress here, wife.”

I froze.

My throat locked, breath catching. Minutes stretched as I stood motionless, the fabric clutched in my hands.

“I don’t like repeating myself. You know that.” His voice was low, steady, and laced with venom.

My knees weakened, trembling beneath me. I forced my hands to move, peeling away my clothes piece by piece under the weight of his eyes. His gaze raked over every inch of bare skin, sharp and unblinking. The air itself seemed to press in on me, thick and suffocating.

I slipped the velvet dress over my body with shaking fingers. His stare followed every movement. My skin crawled, heat prickling. A wild urge rose inside me, to gouge those eyes out, to make them stop seeing me. But that would be a suicide mission.

“I’m done, sir,” I whispered, barely trusting my own voice.

He parted his lips to reply, but his phone rang. Without a word, he answered and stepped outside.

I perched on the edge of the bed, waiting, twisting my fingers together. Minutes dragged before he returned.

“Wife, something came up. We’ll have to postpone this,” he said briskly, already moving toward the door.

Relief flared, bubbling into excitement I couldn’t hide. “No problem, sir,” I replied quickly.

He paused, his eyes lingering on me with a look I couldn’t decipher, cold and unreadable. Then he turned and strode out, taking that suffocating aura with him.

The moment the door clicked shut, I finally drew a full breath. My chest loosened, and I let out a shaky sigh. I peeled off the velvet dress, trading it for my shorts and a half-cut shirt. So comfortable.

I had just stretched out on the bed when a knock startled me. My heart jumped, but I dragged myself to the door. The knob creaked as I turned it, revealing a young maid with sparkling hazel eyes.

“Morning, ma,” she greeted with a cheerful grin.

“Morning,” I answered softly, forcing a smile.

“I’m here to pick up the plates.”

I stepped aside, letting her in. She moved quickly, gathering the dishes.

“Have a nice day, ma,” she called as she left, not waiting for my response.

I shut the door with a loud exhale, then collapsed back onto the bed. Sleep claimed me almost instantly.

When I woke again, the room wasn’t empty.Justin stood there.

God, I slept too long.

“Welcome… sir,” I stuttered, scrambling upright.

He didn’t speak, just handed me a nylon bag. My fingers trembled as I accepted it, curiosity threading through my nerves.

Inside, the first thing I pulled out was my favorite ice cream. My heart swelled. For a moment, warmth spread through me.

Then I reached for the second item. Peanuts.

My chest tightened. The world seemed to freeze.

Has he found out …?

I stared at the packet, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. No, it can’t be. He called me Cynthia yesterday… I swallowed hard, clinging to that thin comfort.

But the unease gnawed at me.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, forcing a smile that barely touched my lips.

I set the peanuts aside, pretending not to notice them, and dug into the ice cream instead, devouring it as though my life depended on it .

“Eat your peanuts, Cynthia.”

The spoon slipped from my hand, clattering against the bowl. My breath hitched, my heart stopping mid-beat.

Blood of Jesus.

How do I tell him I’m Allergic to peanuts? Everybody knows Cynthia loves peanuts.