IT WAS NIGHT
"Tell Posner that if he doesn't solve this casino problem, he will be the next one to lose his head... you useless wretches!"
The voice of Megan, the woman who considered herself my wife and owner of me, sounded irritated and completely annoyed on the other side of the door, but it seemed distant. I ended up hearing part of that conversation because I had to move to the door to pick up a letter that had been lying on the floor for some time. Surely one of the security guards had slid it under the door.
After the morning argument, powerful Armstrong didn't enter the room and wouldn't let me out either, even though I begged Jones, who remained on standby on the other side of the door. I wanted to be able to leave that luxurious square and walk in the garden, touch the roses, feel the grass, or do something to try to "celebrate" my 18th birthday, and that pool seemed pleasant for a swim or to dip my feet, since I didn't know how to swim.
The idea that I was the wife of a millionaire woman didn't make sense and probably never would to me. And why, when, and why would she choose me among so many women with more beauty, more prestige, or more power? I was nobody.
Still near the door, I opened the letter, unfurled it, and there was writing, a small note, followed by a "Happy birthday." The note said: "Tonight we will celebrate your birthday, I hope you look beautiful for your wife."
Beautiful for my wife? Never!
I crumpled the letter and threw it in annoyance.
Suddenly, the door swung open brutally and I ran away, realizing it was Megan Armstrong. There was fury in her eyes, and her forehead was sweaty with droplets dripping down. What had she been doing that made her so sweaty?
Her dark blues caught me, and she slammed the door shut after banging both sides forcefully. Her fury frightened me. What if she did something to me? She was so explosive.
My arms or my strength wouldn't help me, she was taller and stronger, and this morning, I had learned that I was weak compared to her strength.
The fury disappeared when a wicked smile appeared in the corner of her mouth, and she approached me slowly, as if she were a lion intimidating its prey. I didn't move because it wouldn't make a difference, as the only way out was locked.
I maintained eye contact with her, not averting my gaze for a second, and she ended up doing something - something I couldn't help but look at. She simply took off the black tank top she was wearing and threw it on the floor. There I saw a bandage on her worked abdomen, she was pale, her small breasts hidden beneath the black bra, and a few centimeters above her left breast was a scar. Curious, the proficiency she had in spreading wounds on that attractive body.
As I pondered how such wounds appeared on her body, I felt her intense breath on my face, and her warm hands grabbed me by the jaw. I tried to move away, but one of her hands descended to my waist and pulled me into her body, causing my hands to rest on her shoulders.
I stared into her dark blues, trembling in her arms, and quickly turned my face away when her lips descended to mine.
Megan tried several times to kiss me and cursed at me when she was unsuccessful, but I always dodged. I would never let her touch me without my consent and also because I didn't know her, she was trash in my eyes, a cruel woman.
"Since you don't want to kiss me willingly..." she said and pulled me onto the bed, where she threw me. "You'll kiss me by force, you rebellious girl!"
I climbed down from the other side of the bed and saw Megan grabbing handcuffs from the bedside table. Without thinking, I ran towards her and pushed her, making sure to touch her bandage so she would feel pain and forget about me.
Megan fell on the bed and grabbed her abdomen, screaming in pain, while still staring at me with even more fury.
The door swung open and Jones entered with a revolver in hand. Concern filled his eyes for his boss and he pointed the gun at me, still standing there, now staring at him with a pounding heart, feeling similar sensations to when I was kidnapped.
Megan lifted her head, glared at Jones with hatred for a moment, pointed outside, and he left, leaving us alone once again. For a moment, I thought he was going to shoot me.
Suddenly, Megan smiled like a villain from the movies and I froze. She stood up, seeming to have recovered from her pain, and tightened the handcuffs in her hand.
She would only have her wish fulfilled if she arrested me or threatened me, because that's who she was.
"Stella!" she called out to me and her malicious smile subsided.
I didn't respond, I just watched her, imagining the terrible things she could do to me.
"I am your birthday present, chiquita."
"I am not a little girl, and you are not my present!" I confronted her.
"I am, and I will be for a long time," and malice took over her face. She twirled the handcuffs between her index and middle fingers, analyzing me from head to toe, like a pervert.
I lowered my gaze and my curls covered my face completely as I looked at my bare feet.
"Stella?"
I ignored her, remained downcast, lost in thought, and with a rapid, uneven breath.
"You are a rebellious girl, and I always knew that is what drew my attention to you."
I heard her footsteps on the floor as she walked around the room.
"A year ago, I had the pleasure of seeing you for the first time through pictures, pictures that your father gave me," my heart tightened; it was impossible to believe the shit my father had done, selling me as if I had no value in his life.
Everything made sense now, the last time he was present in my life was on my 17th birthday, where he said he was traveling to Spain for a job, but it was all a big lie.
"After a month of looking at you in the pictures, I started to desire you, even though I had a woman by my side... so I accepted what your father offered me, and in return for the debt, he promised to give you to me. I might truly be a bad person... I was just beating up a miserable man a while ago, but that's not relevant now," I wanted to look at her coldness overflowing through her words, but I couldn't. "I carry a great empire on my shoulders, an empire that nearly cost me my life. If I could, I would change my lifestyle, but I can't. I am the sole heir, and my parents entrusted me with everything. If I had a sibling, I would have surely followed a life of adventure... Me encanta la adrenalina."
An adventurer?
I felt her unexpected hand raising my neck, and I locked eyes with hers, feeling butterflies in my stomach.
We stared at each other, and I decided to ask:
"Are you a gangster?"
And Megan smiled, pushing me against the nearest wall.
"No, but I have enemies, and that's why I have so many bodyguards and security," she said. Her mouth was close, but I only looked into her eyes, as she began to run her hand down my neck, shoulder, and arm. She paused at my wrist, gripping it tightly, partially handcuffing and pulling it behind my back along with my other still free hand. And in the midst of this, I couldn't do anything to stop her.
"Now decide how you're going to surrender to me and become my woman," she said, burying her mouth in my neck and pinning me to the wall with the weight of her body.
"You are a bad person..." I murmured, feeling her lips and tongue moistening my neck with kisses I couldn't help but feel, despite my attempts to pull away. "So, if you are really as you say you are... you decide, you fucking bitch!"
"Go on!" she said, and my other wrist was enveloped by the handcuffs, leaving me completely trapped. "I love your way of insulting me, with that dirty mouth of yours... I always imagined you like this, completely defenseless in my arms."
"Bastard!"
She smiled arrogantly, and...
"Let me see something, Stella," she said, reaching down into my panties, where she touched and massaged me. "Your mouth lies, but your body tells the truth. You want me!"
I had no arguments. I always had a traitorous body.
"You just need to relax," she whispered the words into my mouth, "and you will see that you can become the most loved woman in the world."
"I want to be loved... but not by someone who bought me as if I were a piece of jewelry!"
"Indeed... you are worth much more and I am willing to pay."
"No!"
Megan clenched her jaw and gave me a carnivorous look.
"Fine... you've made your decision! Now face the consequences," she stepped back and picked up her tank top from the floor. She put it on while staring at me, now possessing a demonic gaze, and called for Jones.
I immediately felt, just with that look, that she had malicious intentions. Her demeanor was frightening. My heart tightened.
Jones entered, leaving the door slightly ajar. He looked at me and I saw astonishment in his eyes. From his gaze, he obviously already knew what the future held for me.
"Armstrong?" he said with repulsion.
"Mr. D'Angelo was my wife's choice," she pointed at me as if I were an abandoned animal, while I had no idea what was about to happen. Jones looked at me with pity.
"I..."
"Shut up!" she ordered, and I remained silent, completely ashamed.
"And what should I do?"
"Fetch..." there was a brief pause of silence, "fetch her father's head and give it to her as a gift!"
My heart melted in despair...
"But... Armstrong?..."
"Do as I commanded!"
"No, Megan!" I begged, already in tears, imagining the scene that involved my father. "Please," I approached, falling to my knees at her feet, which made her move away from me as if I were nothing.
"Your father deserves to die for what he did to you!"
"Megan... please?" I pleaded, looking into her eyes, ignoring Jones' concerned look.
"No!"
"Please... Armstrong?"
Megan's gaze changed drastically...
"Wait outside until further notice!" she ordered Jones, and he left, closing the door.
Megan walked around me, and I couldn't look at her anymore. I felt weak, hopeless.
She suddenly grabbed me by the forearm and lifted me up. She removed the handcuffs from my wrists, relieving the pain in my shoulders from being held back for so long, and caressed my face, as well as my lips, with an extremely desirous look.
Her touch reminded me of the same touch I received from my now ex-girlfriend. Similar caresses, similar touches, but it wasn't the same person. Even after being betrayed, I still felt something for Ariana, longing to see her, longing to touch her, but I had to forget her. She hurt me and damaged my feelings. I dated Ariana for over five months, so a feeling still lived within me.
Megan stopped and led me to the bed, where she sat me down and stared at me from above with malice. Against my will, she would do whatever she wanted with me, and I would sadly "accept" it, with the sole purpose of saving my father's life, even though he had made mistakes, many mistakes.
Megan lifted me up and slowly removed my dress from my arms and tossed it aside. Only in my underwear and bra, I watched her eyes and hands roam all over me, sending shivers down my spine, but they were shivers of fear.
She brushed her lips against the corner of my mouth and continued downward, her tongue following suit. As she did that, I kept my face turned away, not wanting to see where it would end. I began to cry silently when she opened her mouth near my belly button, where she lingered for a moment, licking. Then descending slowly until she knelt.
Megan touched my waist, my butt, and placed a kiss on the inside of my thighs, which sent shivers through my entire body.
Suddenly, she stood up and turned my face to look at her, seeing how wet my face was from my tears.
Megan lowered her gaze and silence filled the room.
What was she thinking?
Perhaps that was torturing me?
Now I just wanted her to finish what she started and enjoy my agony.
"Stella?" I said, staring into her eyes.
"Yes?" she said weakly.
"I am a bad person, but not to the point of forcing a woman to be with me."
Did she just try to scare me all this time?
I was taken aback because her words were able to alleviate a great anguish and fear from within me.
"What do you mean, Armstrong?"
"You are my wife, but I cannot force you to be my woman. I desire you like I have never desired anything before, but I don't want you to cry... I just want..."
"If you don't want to see me crying, then... let me go back to my old life... I was happy!" I pleaded weakly.
"No!..."
"You now belong to my home. You belong to me!"
She thought...
"And you better forget about your useless little life... you will never leave here!"
"Megan... please... let me go?" I implored with a lump in my throat.
"I already said no! Get used to living here," she argued and left the room, leaving me there, in tears.
There, alone, I cried again.
That was the worst day of my life, the day that I wished I could celebrate.
And the smiles that should have represented my happiness turned into agonizing tears.
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