by James, Lylah
“You haven’t fulfilled your duty as a wife–”
“I can’t get pregnant on my own, Killian,” I snapped. “I think you are well aware of that and if you don’t know how it works, I can give you an anatomy lesson. Shall I prepare a PowerPoint? How to impregnate your wife, will be the title.”
His jaw clenched and he gripped the table, his knuckles growing white. “You’ve chosen the wrong moment to be bold, Julianna,” he threatened slowly.
I inhaled sharply, my knees shaking.
“I wasn’t talking about fucking you or getting you pregnant. I was talking about your duties as my wife. Other than carrying and birthing my child.”
My lungs clenched. I licked my lips and swallowed down the acidic bile before I could gag on it. Killian made me jittery… and when I was anxious, I made mistakes.
Mistakes that could cost me dearly.
“Oh, right. I had to look pretty in your arms, smile at the camera, mingle with the people at charity events and parties, showing them just how happy our marriage is. A perfect lie. A pretty façade.”
“Yes,” he hissed. “Exactly that.”
“Well, you haven’t done your duties as a husband either,” I gritted, before I could swallow down the words. “So we are both failing at this contract marriage thing.”
His head finally snapped toward me, his dark eyes glaring. “It’s taking all my self-control not to wring your neck, Julianna Romano. But then again, I want your death to be slow and painful.”
“Spencer,” I shot back. “Mrs. Julianna Spencer.”
“You’re not my wife,” Killian spat.
“Too bad. We are legally husband and wife.”
He pushed his chair with a loud screech and stood up, rounding the dining table. He stalked toward me with long, powerful legs, his face dark with rage and his lips curled cruelly.
My back slammed against the pillar as he crowded into my personal space, pushing his chest against mine. I sucked in a harsh breath and my scars itched.
Kilian was too close.
I didn’t like it.
I couldn’t… breathe.
My heart hammered so hard I wondered if it bruised my rib cage.
His head lowered and his whiskey breath whispered over my lips, my black veil the only thing separating our mouths from touching.
He was too close…
His warmth surrounded me, his scent musky and unique… familiar. His eyes darkened, boring into mine.
Please. Don’t look at me so closely, for you’ll see my demons.
My sins.
My mistakes.
My lies.
My secrets.
“Our fathers expect us to consummate this marriage,” he said, his thick voice laced with an underlying threat.
“I know.” I buried my shaking hands in my dress.
“The mere thought of touching you brings me disgust, but I will enjoy breaking you.” His right hand came up. It brushed against my neck, almost tenderly, before he wrapped his fingers around my throat, squeezing in warning. “You will submit to me, Beasty.”
The venom in his tone pierced my heart, sinking its poison into my beating organ. The pain was… blinding and pure agony.
His thumb stroked over the healed scars along the left side of my neck. They were not as bad as my face and had healed into pink, faded lines. “Poor little Beasty,” Kilian taunted in my ear.
My breath stuttered.
My soul wailed.
My heart wrenched from my chest, laying at his feet, and he cruelly stomped on it.
Atone for your sins.
I reminded myself.
Beg for absolution.
I closed my eyes. I deserved this.
Salvation is in the hands of the one who you have wronged.
I inhaled a shaky breath, swallowing my cries and my injured pride. My hands landed on his chest and I gave him a hard shove, enough for him to let me go, and I stepped away from him, putting a safe distance between us. When we were too close, I couldn’t think. When he touched me…
Our eyes locked. “I don’t consent,” I murmured.
“You don’t have a choice,” he mused.
I gritted my teeth. “You’d take me against my will?”
Killian’s eyes darkened and his cruel face broke into a mocking smile. “I’m your husband. Your body is my right, Julianna.” He took a step forward and I skidded back, out of his reach. He advanced toward me again, like the predator he was. He was the master of the hunt.
And I was apparently his prize. I may be his trophy wife but I was not a martyr. I had been through worse and handling Killian’s hatred should be no trouble. Or I thought so.
When he was close enough, his arm snaked out and he grasped my elbow. Killian gave a hard tug and I stumbled into his chest. His head lowered and he pressed his cheek against mine, over my veil. His lips brushed against my right ear. “It’s my duty, isn’t it?” he rasped. “To consummate this marriage? To make you a wife, to make a mother out of you? My duty is to breed you and your job is to give me an heir, Julianna Spencer.” Killian spat out my full name like he was disgusted that his last name was attached to me.
“What century are you from?” I growled. “Definitely not this era. Rape is rape, whether you're my husband or not, you need my consent and I don’t give it to you.”
He chuckled heartlessly. “You’ll refuse me?” He grasped my left hand, his thumb stroking my wedding ring. He dragged the ring forward, over one knuckle, to reveal the imprint that the ring left. “You’ll refuse me while wearing my ring? My name is etched on your skin, Beasty.”
Killian’s name was engraved inside my wedding band, similar to how my name was engraved inside his. But he never wore his ring. The wedding band had left an imprint of his name on my ring finger.
I snatched my hand away, my other palm slapping against his chest. An act of short rebellion, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. Killian knew too many of my weaknesses. “Yes,” I said.
“I want to see you try.”
Goddamn it. He was a bastard. A heartless bastard. “The man I knew would never force himself on a woman.”
“You don’t know me. You know nothing, Beasty.”
“I know enough,” I snapped. “The man my sister so passionately spoke of was respectful. A decent man who would always do the right thing. That was the man she fell in love with... yet the one standing in front of me is nothing but a monster. A beast. You’re without remorse, Killian Spencer.”
There was a flash of pain in his eyes before he quickly blinked it away. A shadow covered his face and his jaw twitched. “You’re right. I’m not the Killian your sister fell in love with. You killed him that night; the same night you killed your sister. Bravo, Julianna. You single-handedly ruined two lives in one night.
“Three,” I breathed, the crack in my chest growing larger.
That made him pause. “What?”
I swallowed, my eyes burning. This fight had taken all my energy and now… Killian had left me feeling vulnerable. “Three lives. I ruined myself that night,” I said, my voice breaking. “You seem to forget that every time. You. Are. Not. The. Only. One. Who. Is. Suffering. I miss her too. I loved her too. And yes, I hate myself too. More than you can ever hate me. So no, your anger and your hatred does nothing to me.”
“If you want pity–”
“I’m not asking for pity!”
My voice echoed through the walls and his eyes widened. “Watch your tone with me, Julianna.”
“Or what?” I challenged, blinking the tears away.
“You will regret it,” he warned.
I gave him a bitter smile. “You still don’t understand, do you? What else can you do to hurt me when I’m hurting myself every day, every time I breathe.”
“I can do much worse.”
The pressure on my chest intensified. I let out a sigh, rubbing my temple. “We’re going in circles, Killian.”
He stuck a hand into the pocket of hi
s slacks, his eyes piercing mine. “I came here to finish what we started.”
I nodded. “The heir our families desperately need.”
His lips pulled up, but there was no warmth in his smile. “How about we make this easy for ourselves? Just bend the fuck over and submit to me, Beasty. I’m sure you know what it’s like to be on your back and on your knees. You can’t be a virgin,” he paused. “Once the job is done, you’ll be paid bountifully every year. A payment for your services, as per the contract.”
My fists clenched into the fabric of my dress. “I’m not a common whore, Killian.”
He scoffed. “My apologies. I thought that was your job description. Truly.”
“That’s petty, even for you.”
He chuckled, his wide chest shaking.
“I’m not a vessel,” I said, my chin nudged high, and I channelled every ounce of pride I had inside my bones. I was my father’s daughter, after all. The Romanos didn’t let anyone step on them. True, I was paying for my sins. But I wasn’t weak and my husband had to see that.
“I’m not a vessel,” I repeated. “And my womb is not up for discussion, Killian. But I have a few conditions of my own before I give you my consent.”
His gaze fixated on me. “Are you blackmailing me?”
“No, it’s a simple compromise.”
“A compromise, you say,” he said slowly. “I don’t and won’t compromise with you.”
I watched as he spun around, walking away – leaving us mid-conversation. That was his way of saying that I had been dismissed.
But I wasn’t done.
Either Killian accepted my conditions or he’d never get the heir he needed. This time, the ball was in my court. I had all the power in my hands – or should I say my womb.
I took a step forward and called out to his retreating back. “It’s either that or your father doesn’t get the grandchild he desperately wants to see before–”
He came to a sudden halt, his head snapped toward me and his eyes turned to slits. “You’re a fucking bitch.”
Yes, I knew it was a low blow, bringing up his dying father. But it was the only way to get him to listen to me.
“We’ve already established that you hate me and I’m a bitch. Let’s move on, Killian.”
“What do you want?” he snapped, enraged.
“Dinner, every night for thirty nights,” I spilled out quickly before I lost the courage. “And I expect us to converse without throwing insults. Simple as that. After those thirty nights, we can then discuss consummating our marriage.”
I had to practically choke out the last sentence. Killian’s brows pulled up in confusion. His jaw tightened. His lips parted, as if to speak, but I was already talking over him.
“Dinner will be served at seven. I hope to see you there.”
And this time, I spun around and walked away, leaving him behind.
I rushed up the stairs to my room and once inside, I slammed the door closed and my shaking legs finally gave out from under me. I slumped against the door, sliding down until I was sitting with my butt on the ground.
What have I done?
I tried to inhale, but I couldn’t breathe through my panic.
What. Have. I. Done?
I clutched my chest as I tried to remember how to breathe. My room swayed and my vision blurred.
God, I was so dumb.
I should have kept my distance, should have let him do whatever he wanted. Once he impregnated me, maybe he’d leave me alone. Maybe he’d go away again until I gave birth.
That would have been the ideal situation.
So why… why did I ask him to spend more time with me?
Because I was stupid.
Stupid and lonely.
And now I had to pay for one more mistake.
Because those thirty nights would be absolutely cruel to my heart.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Julianna
Falling in love is like the sunshine,
But our moments are lost in time.
Like a drowning lover,
Yet again, I fall for thou,
But thy heart yearns another.
- A
When I came to Isle Rosa-Maria, a day before my wedding, I found that my wardrobe had already been filled with new clothes, a few of them were my personal taste, but it was all per Killian’s choices and what William expected his daughter-in-law to dress, like a true Spencer.
After all, the attention would be on me
How I walked, how I dressed up, how I talked…
Every breath I took, every movement I made, every smile and every laugh.
The high society and the common people would judge me and if they found me lacking, it would be the Spencer’s reputation at risk.
William didn’t expect Killian to leave me at the altar though; he hadn’t anticipated that his son would leave the island without a backward glance or that I would defy all expectations and decide to stay here.
One side of my wardrobe was stuffed with evening gowns and formal dresses. I also had simpler ones that I could wear at home, comfortably. On the other side, there were sweaters, blouses, jeans and skirts.
All were newly bought: posh and expensive.
I grew up in luxury and wealth, none of this was surprising and neither did it wow me. If the Spencers held blue diamonds in their hands, the Romanos possessed jadeites.
“Is this like a date?” Mirai questioned lazily, bringing my attention back to her.
“No,” I deadpanned. “It’s just dinner.”
“Then why are you taking so long to choose a dress?”
I glared at Mirai and she pressed her lips together, hiding a mischievous smile. “Get out.”
She clucked her tongue at me. “You want him to like you.”
“Mirai,” I warned, slamming my wardrobe close. She let out a small giggle before she bounced off my bed and rushed out of my bedroom, closing the door behind her.
What Mirai said couldn’t be further from the truth. I didn’t want Killian to like me. No, I wanted him to see me as equal, not a vessel or a walking womb for him to be used and then discarded.
I was more than that. I was Julianna Romano, my father’s daughter. I was Julianna Spencer, Killian’s wife.
I was Julianna.
I was Killian’s equal and I needed him to see that.
In the end, I chose a simple black evening dress, with a sweetheart neckline, spaghetti straps and side slit, up my right leg. The satin fabric was soft under my fingertips.
The diamond necklace sat heavy around the base of my throat. While my dress was simple and elegant, the jewelry adorning my neck was quite extravagant and expensive with more than fifty intricate, teardrop pieces put together to create one necklace.
I gave myself a once-over in the mirror. My black veil was pinned in place and my hair fell down the curve of my spine, shiny and curled in waves. I looked every bit the elegant and classy wife, the one high society expected me to be.
I left my room with frayed nerves coursing through my veins. My heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, one locked in a cage, desperate to escape.
When I approached the dining hall, I saw that Killian was already there, seated at the head of the table. He had discarded his suit jacket. The collar and first two buttons of his black shirt were undone, exposing the top of his chest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he sat back on the chair, his legs stretched out under the table, one elbow on the armrest and cigarette between his fingers. His posture was the epitome of calm and collected, but I didn’t let his nonchalant act deceive me, for I knew of the flickering rage underneath his skin.
He watched me walk into the dining hall, his attention drifting down where the slit on my dress exposed my bare legs as I walked before his gaze came back to my face. Not before his eyes lingered a second longer on the deep v-cut of my black dress, where my breasts were pushed together by the tight bodice.
Killian brought the cigare
tte to his lips, taking a long inhale before blowing out a puff of smoke. “You’re late,” he said.
“Now that’s not true. I’m right on time; you’re just a tad early. Maybe it’s good practice for you. It’s gentlemanly to wait for your lady, with patience.” I took a seat on the opposite side of him, at the other end of the dining table. There was more than twelve feet in length separating us. With a flower vase strategically placed in front of me. The three chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, right over the dining table and I liked how they illuminated Killian’s face. Even from the distance, I could see the way his jaw was locked and the darkening of his gaze.
“You’re not a lady, the same as I’m not a gentleman,” he drawled, loud enough for me to hear him across the table.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “We are a perfect lie together, husband.”
Dinner was served in silence and once the two housekeepers made themselves scarce, Killian finally spoke his mind. “What do you wish to accomplish with this dinner?”
While making sure the flower vase was directly in my face, hiding me – well, most of my face – from Killian’s view, I slowly removed the pins that kept my black veil in place. I lowered the lace fabric and placed it on my lap.
“Nothing much,” I said, keeping my voice from shaking. It was the first time I had removed my veil outside of my room. But it wasn’t like I could eat while it still covered my face.
From the corner of my right eye, I saw Killian grinding his cigarette into the ashtray, before letting it fall from between his fingers. “Then, what’s the point of it?”
“You married me, Killian,” I said, grabbing for my cutlery. “Don’t you think we should at least spend a few minutes in each other’s presence without you feeling the need to go for my throat.”
He let out a humorless chuckle. “I don’t think that’s possible, Beasty.”
I ignored the jab, and the way he seemed to keep calling me Beasty. After my accident, strangers would whisper that name behind my back, giggling and sneering, until it became my label. Now, my dear husband was using it against me in the most vindictive way possible.
But that was Killian Spencer for you. Lethal words. Dangerously heartless. Cold eyes and even deadlier vengeance seeping through his veins. Every time he used that name, I was left with another crack in my heart.