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Ignoring him, I walked back into the master to fill my arms with the rest of my nice clothes: the designer jeans, the flashy dresses I’d bought in Vienna during our honeymoon, the blue party dress I’d worn the first night we’d met. But even though my things were moving, I knew that the memories attached to them weren’t going anywhere. As if they were woven into the fabric of every single dress I’d worn in his presence.

Turning toward the doorway, I caught him watching me, and for a split second I could’ve sworn I saw something in his face—regret. But it was gone so fast I doubted it had been real.

“Just do yourself a favor, Tori, and realize that I’m allowing you to do this as a kindness.” He strode over to me and placed his hands on my shoulders. “And when I require my wife to behave as such, youwillobey me.”

His size overpowered me, reminding me how small I was compared to him.

My pulse kicked, and my cheeks went hot. Part of me wanted nothing more than to leave this nightmare behind, drop everything and get on my hands and knees, let him fuck me right there on the floor. Forget about our fight and the sordid truth behind KZM’s business dealings—and my father’s role in keeping them out of the public eye. But I couldn’t forget any of it. If I performed my “wifely duties” going forward, they’d be exactly that—duties.

“Tell me you’ll obey,” Stefan repeated.

There was no room to argue. I nodded my consent.

After I dropped the rest of my things onto the guest room bed, I shut the door behind me. Then I set about hanging everything up in the empty closet and formally claiming the space as my own. But every item I picked up reminded me vividly and irrevocably of Stefan.

The simple black sheath dress I’d changed into after our wedding. All I could think about was how nervous I’d been unzipping it in the bathroom before changing into the white lace wedding night lingerie he’d done his best to resist. The sexy black cocktail dress I’d bought in Vienna, that even the shop girl had calledvavoom, with all its complicated straps across the back. I’d worn it right out of the store in an effort to make Stefan jealous, to make him notice me. And here was the gorgeous gown I’d worn the night we had gone to the opera, with its daring neckline that plunged almost to my ass in the back. I’d worn it without a bra, to tempt him. The slinky, ice-blue silk gown I’d worn the night he stood me up, when we had fought and he’d finally kissed me the way I’d wanted him to. Hard and rough, his tongue fucking my mouth, my pussy instantly wet for him. It had been hot. So fucking hot.

And then there was the beautiful designer dress with its petal-scattered skirt that I’d worn for my eighteenth birthday party—the first time Stefan and I had met. A night where I had felt like a princess. Where he had called me Cinderella.

Where we’d shared our first kiss.

Blinking back tears, I abandoned the dresses and tried to focus on putting my underwear away in the top drawer of the dresser. It was hard to hold those beautiful, silky, sexy things and not think about how good it had felt when Stefan ripped them off of me.

I’d noticed that there was no lock on the guest room door. Which meant that if he wanted to, he could come into this room, into my bed, and take what he wanted. Take me however he wanted. Whenever he felt like it.

Standing there, a hot ache growing low in my belly, my hands tangled in lacy lingerie, I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like; Stefan’s intense, authoritative way of handling me playing out in an intensely sexual way. I couldn’t deny that it made me hot. I knew it was wrong, knew he was a monster, but I couldn’t erase the memories of him dominating my body. Just the way I liked it, the way he’d always been toward me. Controlled, confident, commanding.

But that part of our relationship, that intimacy, that intensity…it was all done and gone. Things were different now. If and when I fucked him, it wouldn’t be the same.

I hadn’t been trapped before. Back then, I had been a willing partner in a marriage—one of convenience, but one that I thought I understood. Now, I was trapped. Trapped in this life, this marriage, and now in this guest room. At Stefan’s mercy and command. Because he was my captor.

And my enemy.

There was nothing I could do to change the situation yet, but it wouldn’t always be this way. My husband had been right about one thing: I did need some time to come to terms with our arrangement. He just didn’t know that I would be using that time to figure out my next move.

So I would play the good girl, the good wife, and I’d bide my time. Meanwhile, I’d find a way out, gather evidence, come up with a plan to save myself and all the other hurting women involved in this.

I felt powerful to have separated myself from Stefan already, even in this small way. To be drawing battle lines, fighting back, no matter how small the gesture was. It made me feel strong. Like I would survive.

Because this war was far from over.

Tori

Chapter 3

My strongest memory of Harper Memorial Library on the UChicago campus wouldn’t be that first sight of the building’s gorgeous, medieval castle-like exterior with its walls covered in ivy and two crenelated turrets, like someplace out of Harry Potter or a King Arthur tale. It wouldn’t be the gothic chandeliers overhead, the geometric patterns of the buttressed ceiling, nor even the tall, narrow windows with their protective grates that filtered the sunlight pouring in.

It would be the instant, all-encompassing peace of the space.

My first day of linguistics classes had been overwhelming and I’d been full of stress about whether I’d be able to keep up with the work, and whether I’d be able to measure up to my professors’ expectations (and my own). But when I walked into that library, the silence wrapped me up like a soft blanket and all the weight on my shoulders just floated away.

I could still remember the way my shoes made the tiniest echo as I tiptoed across the gleaming parquet floors toward one of the empty study tables. It was a quiet like I had never known.

Finding out the place was open 24 hours a day was a godsend. It quickly became my favorite haunt on campus, and I spent many hours between and after classes doing my homework at the long tables or catching up on my recommended reading on the third floor. You couldn’t actually borrow any books there, but it didn’t matter to me; I brought plenty of my own.

I sat in my favorite corner spot with my ASL homework spread out before me, practicing the careful signing of the alphabet as I faced a bookshelf. But my hands were clumsy, and my brain felt fuzzy. I’d thought this class would be fun, would help me communicate with the Deaf community if given the chance, but halfway through the semester I could still barely manage my ABCs. No, that wasn’t true. I knew basic words, phrases likethank you,hello,my name is…but lately everything had just gotten harder. Thanks to my home life with Stefan, I was a distracted mess. I was lucky to have school as a sanctuary, but I needed to get back into my studies.

Someone pulled out the chair across from me and I glanced up with annoyance, knowing there were plenty of other empty seats at this hour. But my classmate Gavin slid into the seat, and I felt a smile immediately pull up the corners of my mouth. He’d been a late enrollment, transferring to our school from a great program at UC Berkeley. I still wasn’t sure why he’d left UCB—every time we brought it up, he’d just make a joke about the hippies or the Silicon Valley crowd getting to be too much for him, or how the weather in California was too horribly perfect.