Chapter Three

Laila kept her eyes closed but couldn't go back to sleep. Without looking, she could tell he was staring at her, and it was a bit disconcerting.

She hadn't had a lot of time to look at the man she assumed was her future husband, but she was pleased with what she saw. The fact that he was taking care of her himself instead of having an employee do it spoke volumes about the type of person he was.

Her mind went to the fact that her father had drugged her and could have possibly killed her by overdosing her. Maybe that was his intention? She'd never know for certain. She hoped to never see or hear from him again as long as she lived.

Her father was used to seeing her act childlike and shy, but she was anything but. She would never forget the day her mother sat by her on the bed after she'd fallen from a horse. She'd bumped her head hard but still only had a slight concussion. Her mother devised a plan for Laila to act differently, making the injury out to be worse than it was, to protect her from the men her father would try to give her to. He had tried several times to marry her off, but each time, the men had turned and left after meeting her. Laila had been thankful for the ruse because each of them had made her skin crawl.

The one sitting beside her on the bed wasn't scaring her and was, in fact, making her feel safe for the first time since her mother had died three years before.

She must have dozed because the next time she opened her eyes, the sunlight filled the room. She was pleased to find her headache was down to a dull ache.

When she turned to look around the room, she found the man, Roland, asleep in the chair. The chair was too small to let him rest comfortably, and she was afraid he was going to wake up in pain.

"Ro…" She cleared her dry throat. "Roland."

His eyes opened. A grimace crossed his face as he sat up. He stretched, and she couldn't help but watch in fascination.

Laila's mind went to the fact that she needed to decide if she would keep up the charade of her disability or be herself. She decided that until she knew him better, she would still pretend.

He sat beside her on the mattress and set a hand on her hip.

"Are we supposed to be like this? On a bed together? Isn't it shameful or something?"

His eyes widened a bit and then narrowed. "No, Honey. We'll be married soon, so it's okay to be close like this."

"Should I ask my father?" she asked innocently.

Roland shook his head. "No. Trust me."

"My father told me not to trust any man."

"But I'm your fiancé. That's different. Tell me how you feel."

She looked at the ceiling. "My headache is about gone."

"Good. Are you hungry?" he asked.

"I think so. My tummy feels empty."

"I'll call down for food. I don't want you out of bed today."

"But why?"

"I don't want your headache to come back," he told her.

"Oh." She didn't know what to say to that. "I do have to use the … potty."

She caught the look of dismay on his face. She knew it was because she was intentionally trying to sound like a young girl.

He pulled the blanket to the foot of the bed and helped her sit up and slide to the side. The room tilted for a moment until she got her bearings. It was when she went to stand that she noticed she had a shirt on and guessed it was his by the size.

She swallowed to hold back her panic. "Why am I playing dress-up?"

"I changed your clothes when you got here because I wanted you to feel comfortable."

She didn't have to pretend to be embarrassed and knew a blush had covered her face. "You saw me naked?"

"No. I kept your panties on," he said.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment because of the smirk on his face. "You saw my boobies."

She hadn't meant to raise her voice, but it only made his smile grow.

"Yes, and I think they are very nice … boobies. I look forward to touching them after we're married."

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she pressed her lips together. If or when they got married, he would be able to touch every part of her. He would be the type of man who would own her, and she didn't know how to feel about that.

"If you feel up to it, I'd like you to get dressed and come down and meet my father. I'll want you to come back up to this room, though."

"I feel fine," she said.

"Right now, you do, but that could change."

"I think I'll shower then."

"That's fine. I'll go into my room and shower and meet you back here," he said.

After she closed the door to the bathroom, Laila leaned against it and sighed. There was so much going on in her head. Anger that her father had drugged her, anxiety about being in a new place with new people, and happiness that her soon-to-be husband was very handsome and nice. Not many men would have stayed with her the whole time. Embarrassment was the leading emotion now. She'd never had anyone see her naked since she was three years old, and that had been the old woman that was her nanny. She guessed her blush wouldn't subside anytime soon, especially when she was around him. She also got the feeling he was seeing through her attempt to act young. She'd see how things went in the next few days.

Laila knew she had to get in the shower because her legs were still weak, and she didn't want to fall. It didn't take her long, and after drying off, she wrapped the towel around her torso and started to comb through her hair. She wished she had her own products, but she'd make do.

She turned on the hair dryer she found. A startled scream came from her when the door opened. She relaxed when she saw Roland and turned off the dryer.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said. "I wondered if you wanted me to choose an outfit for you and get all the girly products you brought?"

Laila nodded. "That would be great."

His eyes went up and down her body, and then he smirked. It was only then that she remembered she was standing in a towel. She grabbed onto it with both hands and felt her face heat with a blush again.

He walked out smiling, and her eyes narrowed when she heard him chuckle. She turned back to her hair and started drying it more. It was super thick, so it took a lot of time.

He walked back in with some clothing over his arm and a box of her things. He set that on the counter and then held up a pretty sundress. She was pleased because it was one of her favorites.

A gasp came from her when he held up a set of panties and a matching bra. She tried to snatch it from him, but he held it up, making it impossible for her to reach. Her eyes narrowed again, and she waited. He smirked and held them out to her.

"You know, pretty soon, I won't allow you to hide from me," he said.

"I'm not going to walk around naked," she said.

"In our bedroom, you will."

She pressed her lips together to prevent herself from yelling at him.

"Can I get dressed?" she asked.

He took his time handing her the things, but then he turned and closed the door behind him.

The thought of being naked around him was making her body feel things it never had before. Most of them were pleasant, but she couldn't hold back the wave of fear of the unknown. She just prayed he would be gentle with her—especially the first time.