Elizbeth dragged her suitcase down the long, freezing corridor of the Wilkinson estate. The wheels rattled loudly against the marble floor, the sound echoing off the high ceilings.
She reached the door at the very end of the hall. She pushed it open and dragged her bag inside.
The guest room was sparsely furnished. The air smelled stale, like a room that hadn't been breathed in for months.
Elizbeth let go of the suitcase handle. Her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the edge of the stiff mattress and buried her face in her hands.
A ragged sob ripped from her throat. Her shoulders shook violently as the tears she had been holding back finally poured out. The silence of the room absorbed her pain, offering no comfort.
After a few minutes, her breathing slowed. She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. Her chest still ached, but her eyes hardened.
She unzipped the front pocket of her suitcase. Her fingers brushed against a worn, wooden picture frame. She pulled it out.
It was a photo of her and her grandfather standing in front of his clinic. He was smiling, his hand resting proudly on her shoulder.
Elizbeth traced his face through the glass. Her throat tightened. As long as the clinic is safe, she told herself. I can survive this.
She stood up and reached behind her back, struggling with the zipper of her wedding dress. She finally yanked it down, stepping out of the heavy fabric. She pulled a simple, faded cotton pajama set from her bag and slipped it on.
She pulled the thin blanket back and prepared to lie down.
A violent pounding on the door made her jump. The wood rattled in its frame.
Elizbeth's heart slammed against her ribs. She walked to the door on bare feet and slowly turned the handle.
Carlton stood in the hallway. His face was a mask of dark fury. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes wild and impatient.
Before Elizbeth could speak, his large hand shot out. His fingers clamped around her wrist like a steel vice.
"Ow!" Elizbeth gasped, trying to pull her arm back.
Carlton ignored her. He turned and yanked her out of the guest room.
Elizbeth stumbled forward, struggling to keep her balance. Her bare feet slapped against the freezing marble as he dragged her down the corridor.
As they rounded the corner, a woman in a crisp black uniform froze in her tracks. It was Judi Grimes, the head housekeeper. Her eyes widened as she stared at Carlton dragging his new bride down the hall.
Carlton stopped abruptly. He turned his head, his eyes narrowing into lethal slits as he glared at the housekeeper.
"Keep your mouth shut, Judi," he warned, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
Judi immediately dropped her gaze to the floor and scurried away down a side hallway.
Elizbeth's cheeks burned with intense heat. The humiliation of being dragged like a misbehaving child in front of the staff made her stomach churn.
Carlton didn't slow down. He pulled her all the way back to the master bedroom. He kicked the door open, dragged her inside, and threw her toward the center of the room.
Elizbeth crashed onto the velvet sofa. She scrambled to sit up, rubbing her red, throbbing wrist. She glared at him, her chest heaving.
Carlton marched into the massive walk-in closet. A second later, he walked out holding a sheer, black silk nightgown. He threw it directly at her face.
"Put it on," he ordered.
Elizbeth pulled the silk from her face. She looked at the tiny straps and the plunging neckline. Her face flushed a deep crimson.
"I'm not changing in front of you," she snapped, clutching the fabric to her chest.
Carlton let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Don't flatter yourself. There is absolutely nothing on your body that I want to look at."
He turned his back to her, crossing his arms over his chest.
Elizbeth's jaw tightened. Her fingers shook as she pulled her cotton shirt over her head. She stripped out of her pants and quickly slid the cold, slippery silk over her body. It clung to her skin, offering almost no coverage.
"I'm done," she muttered, wrapping her arms around her waist.
Carlton turned around. His dark eyes flicked to her bare shoulders. His gaze lingered there for exactly one second before he snapped his eyes back to her face.
He closed the distance between them in two long strides. He reached out and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look up at him.
"My grandfather is coming tomorrow morning for a surprise inspection," Carlton said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You will play the part of a devoted, happy wife. Do you understand?"
Elizbeth stared into his cold eyes. The reality of her situation crushed down on her. She gave a small, jerky nod.
Carlton released her chin as if her skin burned him. He pointed a finger at the velvet sofa.
"That is your bed," he stated coldly.
He turned and walked toward the massive king-sized bed. He climbed in and reached over to the bedside lamp. He clicked it off, plunging the room into darkness, leaving Elizbeth shivering on the couch.
