Hell Of A Marriage {18+}

Chapter fifteen - My wife

Well, I’ll be damn if that’ll change my mind about him.

Keenan thinks that’s how winning people over works? He locked me up for a week and I barely even saw him and then today when I did; he was scolding me like I was some child, then he moved to torture me and now he thinks getting me a gorgeous gown and dragging me out will make up for all of that? How insane of him!

I glare at the dress as though Keenan himself is in it. “I’m not going anywhere. And you can return the dress to where ever it came from.” I instantly reply.

Her eyes grow weary at my word and panic written in them, “It came from Mr Hilton himself.”

I growl, “Then you keep it, I just won’t wear it.” Then I turn over to the mirror to stare at myself.

Rebecca drops the dress down on the bed and quietly makes her way out of my room and I continue in front of the mirror, lathering the lotion on the rest of my body.

After spending about an hour in front of the mirror, creaming myself and then moving on to doing almost nothing, I get up and make my way to the bed, about to tuck myself in for an early rest when my door flies open and Keenan walks in, looking like he wants to murder someone—me.

Might I also add that he’s looking incredibly dashing in his three-piece blue suit with his red hair with a minor part at the side and all I want is to run my finger through it while his amazing blue eyes stare at mine.

What the hell is happening to me?! And why do you have these abnormal hormones running like a freaking teenager seeing her crush for the first time in two months?!!!

How can I even still want him after everything he’s done to me? I feel like I’m going crazy.

“What do you want, Keenan?” I ask as I climb onto the bed and pull the cover over myself. And the feeling warms me up from the inside out.

He walks further into the room with much manliness and makes me go weak to my feet. I need counselling because it’s hard holding on to control when I’m this way.

His eyes go to the spot on the bed where the orange gown has been in the last hour, still untouched by me. Then his eyes return to me, angry and disagreeing. “Rebecca told me you weren’t so keen on wearing the dress I bought you and I want to know why?”

I avoid his eyes, “Orange isn’t my favourite colour, you should have done a little research.” I lie and he seems to have realised that because a devilish smirk appears on his face.

He nods and walks closer to my bed, only stopping when he’s at the foot of it. “You are getting better at lying considering you didn’t even blink,” he points out, “but orange is indeed your favourite. I did a little research before getting you the dress.”

“What do you want?” I ask, tiring of whatever game we are playing ‘cause it doesn’t seem to be fun anymore.

He walks over to the side I am on the bed. “I want you to come along with me.”

I raise a brow at him, as he sits down and I look at him, “As you're what?”

“As my wife,” he replies, staring me dead in the eyes, and I’m compelled to look away for fear of losing my sanity.

I scoff in disbelieve because no way can that happen, “So you locked me up in this house for a week, cut off all my connections to the real world, treat me like one of your properties, and let us not forget you avoided me all because I was your wife, and now you just want to take me out and introduce me to the entire world as your wife?”

“Yes.” He answers immediately. I swear his arrogance is reaching the roof.

“What if I say no?”