Chapter Seven
I looked at him tensely, my heart hammering twice as fast, and asked in a faltering voice, "What do you mean?"
He approached me with calculated slowness until I felt every muscle in my body stiffen under the weight of his overbearing presence. "I mean you weren't the girl I was supposed to fuck that night," he said in a cold tone. "And yet, you stayed silent. Why?"
I swallowed hard, unable to find a single word to defend myself. I couldn't justify it because I truly hadn't uttered a word back then; I had surrendered to him like a fool under the influence of his dark magic.
I turned my face away, pressing myself against the car door in an attempt to vanish, maintaining a heavy silence. I just wanted to escape his eyes eyes that pierced through my stillness even though his potent scent made my body shudder.
My body wanted him desperately, but my mind was screaming that this was not the man I had spent the last few weeks painting in my imagination.
The car finally stopped, and I climbed out, tripping over the hem of my stained white gown.
I froze in place, my mouth hanging open in shock when I saw a massive black helicopter waiting for us. The stranger approached, grabbing my arm firmly to lead me toward the chopper.
As we boarded, a real sense of terror took hold; I had never been in a helicopter in my entire life. When he reached out to fasten my seatbelt, I pushed his hand away and said sharply, "I can do it myself."
The helicopter took off, and as we gained altitude, my fear began to dissipate bit by bit. Despite my catastrophic situation, I found myself enjoying the breathtaking views from above. We flew over the vast blue of the sea until an isolated island began to loom on the horizon.
The chopper landed slowly, and he spoke to me in an authoritative tone: "Come... we've arrived."
We got out and boarded another car that toured us around the island, which was teeming with luxurious villas and high-end restaurants, until we reached a towering structure a palace unlike anything I had seen even in my dreams.
We stepped out and entered through the grand doors; the interior design was beyond description in its brilliance and beauty, as if I had suddenly become the protagonist in a fairy tale.
"You will stay here, Stephanie," he said coldly, observing my reaction. "The maid will come and show you to your room."
I looked at him defiantly and said, "You know my name, while I don't even know who you are."
He leaned his body toward me with a terrifying calmness and said, "I am Cedric Volkov... and you can call me the Devil."
The blood froze in my veins; his name alone was enough to instill pure terror. Was this the man whose touch I had been hallucinating about? I said with false bravado, "Yes... the name Devil suits you perfectly."
He gave a mysterious smile and said, "To your room, then... I will come to you later."
He left the hall, and a young maid with cheerful features approached me, saying kindly, "Welcome, Miss. This way, please."
She pointed toward the wide marble staircase, and I lifted my heavy dress to follow her.
Exquisite oil paintings and marble statues decorated every corner. We walked down a spacious hallway that ended in two opposing doors. The maid opened the door on the right and said, "Please, this is your room."
I stepped inside and my breath hitched; the room alone was the size of our entire house.
A large beige bed sat in the center, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, reflecting light onto the white walls.
Behind the bed was a massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the ocean, and beside it was a genuine chocolate-colored leather sofa. In the other corner, I saw a door leading to a vast dressing room.
I sat on the plush velvet sofa, feeling the luxury of the place suffocating me rather than comforting me. The room was filled with extravagant details, from the fur rug that swallowed my feet to the golden accents adorning the oversized mirrors.
But behind all this beauty, I could hear the echo of Cedric's voice as he spoke his title The Devil.
A heavy frustration settled on my chest. I slid off the sofa to sit on the cold marble floor, burying my face between my knees. "I am a prisoner... literally," I whispered to myself, a lump forming in my throat.
I was here at the mercy of a man who didn't hesitate to kill a man who had violated my body on a dark night and was now claiming ownership of me and the fetus growing in my womb.
I placed my hand on my stomach over the fabric of the white dress and wondered bitterly, What will happen to me now? How will I manage to live with a monster like him on this isolated island?
The thought of spending the rest of my life as a "doll" in Cedric's palace terrified me more than the thought of death itself. Would he love this child? Or did he only want it as a mere heir to the "Devil's Empire"?
I rose with a body trembling from exhaustion, dragging the hem of my stained wedding dress behind me. I entered the marble bathroom and turned the hot water on full blast, feeling the steam caress my pale face.
The moment the water touched my skin, I let out a long exhale, as if I were washing away the remnants of Bartholomew's blood and my father's cruel touch from my very soul.
I surrendered to the water completely, letting it soak the tension out of my depleted muscles.
After a long while, I stepped out with a lukewarm body, wrapping my hair tightly in a white towel and donning a soft cotton robe. My strength had utterly collapsed; my eyelids felt impossibly heavy.
I threw myself onto the massive royal bed and sank into the cool silk sheets. I remembered Kira's face as she screamed my name behind the car, and my heart wrenched with worry for her, but the fatigue was stronger than my thoughts, and I succumbed to a deep, dark sleep.
I don't know how much time had passed, but I woke up suddenly to a strange chill piercing the warmth of the duvet.
I felt a long finger moving with lethal slowness over the arch of my bare foot. The blood froze in my veins, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up in terror.
I didn't open my eyes immediately; I could feel the heat of someone's breath drawing closer to the bed.