Chapter 6 - Vivian

Every hour that passed was more torturous than the last. I felt like I was hallucinating and making up the entire thing.

Part of me wished that was true, but my nightmare was far too real to question.

I couldn't wrap my head around how it happened, or why I was locked away in Aristarkh's house. I didn't know how I ended up being his wife, or why he chose me in the first place.

Nothing about it made any sense, and I was struggling to see how it could get any better.

I felt like a caged bird in my family's home, waiting to be sold off to the highest bidder in exchange for an alliance or something else Dad could use to his advantage, and it had seemed like the worst treatment possible once.

But now, here, I felt just the same, only with my name on a marriage license and stuck with a man I didn't know or care about.

For the first time in my life, I was silently begging for my brothers to come to my aid. They didn't have much of anything to do with the business—through no choice of their own—but that desperation within me was holding out hope that they might take the reins and step up anyway.

But as I sat on the edge of the soft bed, I thought about that idea.

Would Elio or Dante do that for me? Would they pull themselves together again and put their lives on the line to save me?

Throughout my childhood, and even into adulthood, I had only ever been their punching bag. I was their anger outlet no matter what they were going through, regardless of what I had or hadn't done.

Despite my innocence, they chose to bat me around and scar me with their abusive words. They constantly reminded me of why I meant nothing to them, and how I was useless to them and the family.

It didn't bode well for my chances of being saved.

I wanted to think my disappearance would bring them to their senses, and remind them that I was their family, but that deeply rooted disdain they held for me couldn't be cured quite so easily.

The trouble was, they didn't see me as family, and they didn't care about what happened to me.

Just like Dad, they were waiting for me to be shipped off somewhere far away from them. They had no interest in keeping me safe, and surely my being swept away by Aristarkh came as a relief for them.

I couldn't even rely on my brothers, and I knew I shouldn't hold my breath for their help.

It hurt to think about it, but it wasn't out of the ordinary.

We were a dysfunctional family at best, and they weren't going to save me, no matter how long I screamed for them.

My lungs and throat ached as I lay back on the bed, exhausted from yelling and trying to get Aristarkh to let me go. I had stopped screaming about an hour after he came in to shut me up; as much as I didn't want to, I had no choice.

My voice went raw, and it hurt to even swallow at that point. I didn't have anything left, and his words had sunk in, anyway.

Given how long I had been shouting with nobody coming to my aid, I knew he was right.

Nobody could hear me. The house was big and fancy, and surely sound-proofed. It made me squeamish to consider why he would bother adding that feature.

As bold as I had been during my protest, I was still afraid of him. He made me angry, and I hated him, but still, I wasn't prepared to underestimate a man like him.

I didn't know what to expect, and I could only imagine all the ways he meant to mistreat me.

It was surprising that he didn't do anything beyond trying to defuse me, especially after all the noise I had been making, but I wasn't out of the woods yet. There was still time for him to prove otherwise.

If my life with my family had been bad, I couldn't imagine what I'd have to endure with Aristarkh. Like a rock in my stomach, I carried that dread, unable to let go of it.

While I had been given seemingly endless peace and quiet while locked in the bedroom, the downside was how boring it was.

I didn't have anything to occupy my time, and that boredom started to get under my skin to the point where lying down seemed irritating.

With a sigh, I pushed myself up from the bed and wandered across the room.

I had no idea how long he intended on keeping me there, but a part of me didn't want to find out. I didn't want to be the one to discover just how cruel he could really be.

Glancing over at the door, I looked at the handle as an idea popped into my head. Even after I spent hours screaming and trying to open the windows that wouldn't budge, I never tested the door.

Immediately, I hurried over and reached for it. When it turned without much effort, hope sparked within my chest.

That rush of optimism fizzled out the longer I thought about it, watching as the door opened soundlessly.

I had the feeling he either forgot to lock it—unlikely—or he didn't think it was necessary in the first place.

If he wanted to confine me in one room and was worried about me breaking out, he would've been sure to lock it.

That only told me one thing: the house had so much security that he had no reason to be concerned.

Given how nice the place was, and how wealthy he claimed to be, I had no doubt the house was monitored better than a high-security prison.

Even if I tried to run, I probably wouldn't get anywhere, anyway.

Letting go of a breath, I felt just as stuck, even knowing the door opened.

As two choices laid out in front of me, I didn't know which one I preferred.

I could either leave the bedroom and explore the house, or shut myself in again and refuse to be anywhere near Aristarkh.

The more I thought about him, the less I wanted to see him. It was a shame, too, given how attractive he was. Even if I felt like I was going crazy in that room, he had caused me more than enough pain and distress for me to be willing to stay put.

The more distance between us, the better.

Regardless of how tempting that first option seemed, I accepted defeat and closed the door softly.

Stewing over what happened and how awful things were for me, I flopped back onto the bed and tried to soothe that burning ache inside my gut, where dread and deep sadness mingled.

Helpless and completely lost concerning how I was going to move forward, I tucked several pillows beneath my head and closed my eyes just as my nose tingled with emotion.

My tears burned down my cheeks, reminding me that only pain was ahead of me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

***

The contrast of night and day streaming through the windows was my only indicator of the passage of time, but beyond that, I had no idea how long I had been there once the days started blurring together.

As much as I wanted to believe Aristarkh was a monster for locking me away, nothing was stopping me from leaving the room. The door was unlocked, a constant reminder coursing through my head. He brought me food throughout the day, sighing whenever he found the previous meal untouched, only to take the old one away and leave the new bag.

He attempted a few words to me, but every time he entered the room, my lips seemed to seal shut. I couldn't bring myself to speak to him, especially not when he had forced my hand and left me with no choice. I could tell he was growing tired of it, but the motivation and will I previously had was sucked out of me.

I tried resisting the food he brought me for as long as I could, but when the growling in my stomach turned into stabbing pain, I took what I wanted and left the rest. The same applied to the new clothes he brought me, all with the tags still on, and all name-brand.

Aristarkh's attempts at smoothing things over by buying me new things started to feel reminiscent of my dad's tactics, as if he had taken a page straight from his book. Like offering an olive branch to me, he wanted the food, the clothes, and the free access to the house to make him seem charitable.

He wanted to convince me he wasn't so bad, but I could only assume he didn't realize just how similar it was to my old life. How it turned my stomach to think about how closely he was following Dad's playbook.

Despite all of his attempted niceties, it wasn't enough.

I felt like I was going crazy. Staring at the same four walls, looking outside the windows I couldn't escape from, and being forced to stew about my current situation only made those dark thoughts even worse. I needed a break from that isolation, even if it meant running into my supposed husband in the meantime.

Heaving out a sigh as I pulled on a cream-colored knit sweater, I reached for the doorknob for the first time in days and opened it without thinking twice.

I hated him, but I hated being stuck in that bedroom even more.

Glancing both ways down the hall, I couldn't hear or see anyone walking around, and I relaxed somewhat. Aware of which end led to the staircase, I chose to start in the other direction.

Walking down the hall, I took in everything as if I were in a museum for the first time, noting everything with a critical eye.

From what I could tell, Aristarkh didn't have very many sentimental items decorating his house. Instead, he had fairly basic yet obviously expensive decor, almost like he went with the furniture and pictures used for staging.

It was minimal yet chic, and despite the lack of any personal touch, the house was warm enough.

Turning a corner, I peered into a nearby room, catching sight of several rows of bookshelves.

My interest piqued, and without hesitating, I made my way inside. The sleek shelves were lined with books—stuffed to the brim as if that was the only thing he collected in his life.

Despite the situation, I was in awe. From old textbooks and non-fiction books to leather-bound, limited-edition copies of mystery, horror, and fantasy novels, he had it all.

I knew I wouldn't be able to fathom how much everything must've cost him, so instead of dwelling on that, I inspected the small library from top to bottom.

It made me wonder if he had inherited them from a bookworm in his family since I couldn't fathom someone like Aristarkh willingly reading anything.

Regardless, I was so engrossed with the ample variety of books that I completely forgot about the bedroom or any kind of protest I had been participating in. Instead, I sifted through the collection, letting my fingers glide against the spines while I waited for one of them to catch my eye.

Pulling out a leather-bound book, I cracked it open and found a deep armchair to sit in. Next to a window, the seat offered me a different view of the property, which was surprisingly refreshing.

As I allowed myself to fall into the book without any other care in the world, it was the most relaxed I had felt in days.

It wasn't a cure to the situation he forced me into, but it was a distraction at the very least.