Evangeline's heart raced, her long brown strands of hair fell around her like a curtain, hiding her face slightly.
She was a beautiful mess, her dress clinging to her curves in a way that was both innocent and alluring.
Vincent's eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance, a twitch of annoyance playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Put your strands back" he ordered, his voice a cold snap that made her tremble.
Evangeline's hand automatically went to her hair, pushing the long brown waves off her face, her eyes never leaving from the ground.
She felt exposed, like he could see every fear, every doubt, every secret she had hidden.
"You look...beautiful," he said, the words forced through gritted teeth. It was not a compliment but a statement of fact, one that made her skin crawl.
"Thank you," she murmured, the words sticking in her throat like shards of glass.
Vincent set his glass down on the sideboard with a thunk.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to a velvet sofa near the closet.
Her legs felt moved as if following his command as she complied, the plush cushions enveloping her. She kept her eyes trained on the floor, unable to look at him.
Vincent strode over to the sofa. He sat down next to her. He sat with one leg bent at the knee, his ankle resting on the opposite knee.
His arms were crossed over his broad chest, the muscles of his biceps flexing as he leaned back into the velvet embrace.
The pose was casual, yet it screamed dominance, like a king.
"Look at me," he said, his voice low and commanding.
Evangeline's gaze reluctantly met his. His jaw was tight, the muscles in his neck standing out like cords.
"You have been sold to me," Vincent said, his tone as cold and unfeeling and straight to the point.
The words hit Evangeline like a sledgehammer, each syllable a blow to her already shattered psyche. She looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Your grandmother," he began, his tone as cold and indifferent, "sold you to me. You are now my property, to do with as I wish. But I will grant you title of my wife, which you should be grateful for. " he paused for a second then continued,"we are getting married next Sunday."
Evangeline's head snapped up, her eyes wide with horror. "Marry? you? And what do you...mean my granny sold me...why would she do that?!" she whispered, the words barely escaping her trembling lips. Tears forming in her eyes.
Vincent leaned in closer, his breath warm against her face. "Your grandmother has been working for my family for years," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Providing us with information on the comings and goings of the young, pretty girls from your village. Girls like Malena."
Evangeline felt the color drain from her face as the implication hit her like a truck and undertood who is the mastermind behind the missing girls.
"What?!" she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "No, no, that's not possible!"
But the cold, emotionless look in his eyes told her it was true.
He continued, his eyes boring into hers, " She gets a good amount of money for it," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "And when she found out you saw what you weren't supposed to, she offered you to me to shut you up for some bucks without any regret. I took you not just to keep my secrets safe but because I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on your picture."
Evangeline felt like the world was crumbling around her, the revelation too much to bear.
She was a pawn in a game she never knew she was playing, a game her own grandmother had sold her into.
Tears from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks.
Vincent's posture was rigid, his eyes unblinking as he watched her cry. He remained unmoved by her distress.
"Stop crying," he said, his voice like ice. "Your tears are annoying my ears."
Evangeline's sobs grew quieter, though she couldn't entirely stifle them.
She sat there, her trembling hands in her lap, feeling more lost and alone than ever before.
Without a word, Vincent stood abruptly, the leather of the sofa.
He walked to his bed and sat down. He turned to Evangeline, his eyes cold and demanding. "Massage my head," he said, his voice a steely command.
Evangeline felt a tremor run through her body, but she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.
She pushed herself up from the sofa, her legs wobbly. As she approached him, she felt a strange mix of fear.
Vincent Castellanos sat on the edge of his king-sized bed, the dark silk sheets pooled around his muscular legs. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even.
Evangeline approached the bed with the grace of a gazelle, her bare feet sinking into the marble floor.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, the silk sheets cool against her bare legs.
The room was a silent cocoon, the only sound the distant ticking of a grandfather clock in the hallway.
Vincent didn't say anything, his eyes remained closed as if he were expecting her to follow his command which she did.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, looked at her sitting posture and without any word, he leaned back and placed his head on her lap.
The weight of his head was surprisingly heavy.
Her hands hovered over him for a moment, unsure of what to do.
Then, with a deep breath, she began to massage his temples, her fingers moving in gentle circles.
The tension in his jaw was palpable, the cords in his neck tight.
Evangeline's touch was tentative at first, as if she was afraid to make any mistakes.
She applied gentle pressure, her thumbs gliding along the base of his skull, working out the knots that had formed there.
She felt the muscles beneath his skin begin to relax.
Vincent's eyes remained closed, but his breath grew shallower as the tension began to melt away.
The feel of her soft, small hands on him. It was almost...soothing. He allowed himself to lean into the sensation.
Her wrists were bruised and raw, the marks from the rope stark against her pale skin.
Each movement was a silent scream of pain, but she gritted her teeth and continued.
Her tears fell unnoticed, until one fat droplet landed on his cheek. His eyes snapping open to meet hers.
For a moment, she got scared thinking he would slap her for crying and disturbing his peace, but she saw something in his eyes when she looked at his eyes with her teary eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be mistaken for concern.
Then he slowly moved his thumb and traced her tears until he reached her soft trembling lips which shocked her and made her body steel.
He looked at her lips for a second with lust then looked in her her eyes while rubbing her lips gently with his thumb, making her heart race in fear.
She wasn't sure what to do at this point. She stared back at him with pleading eyes. But then,
"Don't stop," he growled, his voice a thunderclap in the quiet room.
She took a deep breath and resumed, her thumbs pressing into the taut muscles of his neck.
Vincent's eyes closed again.
Without any word, he got up his head from her lap and lied down, stretching his legs out.
The suddenness of his movement startled her, but she remained still, unsure of what to do next.
He laid flat on his back, his arms folded behind his neck.
The fabric of his shirt pulled tight across his broad chest, revealing the muscular contours beneath.
"Lie down beside me," he said, his eyes still closed. The command in his voice was unmistakable, but there was something else there too. A hint of exhaustion, perhaps.
Evangeline's heart raced as she slid off the bed, her eyes never leaving him. She knew better than to question his orders. She hesitated and dared to ask, "Can I please sleep on the couch?"
Vincent's eyes snapped open, his gaze sharp as a knife. "You will sleep in the bed," he said, his voice a low growl. "With me."
Evangeline's heart hammered against her ribcage like a caged bird desperate to escape.
She didnt have a choice unless she wanted him to beat her up.
She swallowed hard and climbed onto the bed, her body stiff with fear.
The bed was a cloud of softness, the sheets cool against her skin.
She lay down on the edge, as far from him as she could possibly get without falling off.
The scent of his cologne was overwhelming, a mix of sandalwood and leather.
The room was silent except for their breathing.
Her eyes grew heavy, the weight of her lids pulling them shut.
The exhaustion of the day's horrors washed over her, and she couldn't fight it anymore.
Sleep claimed her with surprising ease.