Bound To Bea

Chapter One

She stood silently beside him, knowing it was useless to try to protest his grip on her arm. He was punishing her. Her decision to get drunk and soil his reputation in a gathering of respectable lords justified his hatred for her.

The carriage arrived several minutes later, and he shoved her in, her head slamming against the metal as she fell forward. Wincing, she nursed her aching head through the excruciating ride home, and as her stomach protested the collision of wheels with potholes, she leaned forward, emptying the content of her stomach on the floor and on Oliver's shoes.

He cursed, withdrawing his feet as he bit down on his lower lip to keep from lashing out at her with the footman within an earshot. He didn't dare insult her before the presence of others, ruining his reputation as the perfect gentleman. But he never withheld himself when they were alone.

Sighing, Beatrice settled in her seat, wiping her lips with her sleeves as she pressed her eyelids shut. She must have drifted to sleep, for she was jolted awake by a nudge on her shoulder.

"We are here," he spoke for the first time that evening, taking hold of her hand and leading her inside with feigned affection-his touch gentle, his pace slow and calculated. They walked the small hallway to his study, and once the door was closed behind them, he turned icy blue eyes her way.

"Uncouth whore!" he swore, and she yanked her arm free of his grip, turning to settle on the chair. She was tired, not only from the alcohol, but she was tired of him; of their marriage, of the pretense.

She crossed her legs, one over the other, barely hearing him as he paced the room, cursing her for choosing him to ruin; cursing her for trapping him in a loveless marriage to a classless woman.

"Shall I then resort to keeping you chained to a pole, since you insist on shaming me before all of society? " He faced her, his brow raised in question, his black hair seeming to stand at attention as a muscle worked in his jaw.

She sighed, leaning back against her seat."It shall be up to you, Lord Atkins. Perhaps I shall even provide the ropes?" She shrugged, baiting him, calling his bluff, yet knowing he could never go through with his threat. He might loathe her in private, but he feigned affection in public. His decision to literally drag her through a crowded ball tonight must have been polluted by his rage, otherwise, he would have never laid a finger on her-he cared too much for himself, for his reputation.

He scowled, extending a finger her way in warning. "Do not provoke me, Beatrice, or I shall not hesitate to take a whip to you, then drag you off to the country and keep you locked in a room until your wounds are healed."

Beatrice shifted in her chair, pushing her fear aside. She didn't dare cower before him, even if she knew he could go through with his threats.

"And the scars?" she asked, knowing he could go through with his threat, yet refusing to cower before him. Beatrice hated many things about her loveless marriage, but the one thing she certainly enjoyed was taunting her husband-it was the only time she felt powerful next to the other times when she was at his mercy, when her very survival depended on his benevolence.

She was trapped in a marriage to a man who could never love her, a man who did nothing to hide his disdain for her. She was his possession, and he didn't shy away from pointing that fact out to her.

"Perhaps in your rage, you shall not neglect to leave scars that shall never fade. Then what, my lord? Will you keep me trapped in the country until members of your precious ton begin to question your integrity, or are you so irritated by your dear wife, that you're willing to beat her to an inch of her life, unmasking yourself before all of society as the beast that you truly are?!"

Clamping down on his lower lip, he glared at her from across the room, his fists trembling where they hung beside him. Beatrice knew she had crossed a line she had never crossed before, and for a second, as she sat there, she imagined those fists putting a dent in her jaw.

Stomping his boot hard on the wooden floor, he smashed his fist against the mantle, a loud growl following his actions. Turning sharply to her, his angry gaze settled on her face as he began crossing the room.

Copyright © 2021 Lily Orevba All rights reserved.

For some weird reason, I've been a little reluctant (maybe even afraid) to post this story. I started writing it in 2017 or 2018. The first draft never saw the light of day because I was robbed and lost the file with everything that was taken. This is like the third draft and I feel like now is the time to tell Beatrice's story.

This is the first book in the BEA series. Because this book was being pirated, I had no option but to take the entirety of it off of wattpad and put it on Radish with the wait-to-unlock plan

#1 BOUND TO BEA - Beatrice's story
#2 MEANT TO BEA -Bianca's story
#3 MADE FOR BEALE- Carla's story

MEANT TO BEA is complete and available on my profile, MADE FOR BEALE is not yet available, though I'm itching to write it. I almost cannot wait to introduce you guys to Carla and the MC.

Each book is a standalone, so feel free to read in whatever order you wish. If you read MEANT TO BEA, thank you for sticking around for the first in the series. I hope you like it. Also if you liked this first chapter, please remember to vote and leave a comment let me know what you think.