The room was warm and dark, dimly lit only by the nightstand lamp and a few candles littered around.
She stood in the middle of the room, cold and still, staring into space, gazing at the air, trying to envision her new-found life.
'To love and to cherish, till death do us part'. She recalled the words of the man who stood there on the podium and joined them together, without concern.
His lips gliding from ear to ear, grinning, as if to make up for the awful frown on both their faces. But hers was far from a frown, it was a sadness, an anger that churned her stomach.
The door creaked open.
He strode in, his shoulders hanging in the now smothering air. She watched him move silently to the bed, his broad back and tall frame collapsing onto silk white sheets of the king-sized bed.
Still, her thoughts lingered on the memory of her walking down the long aisle. Staring at the man who was to be her husband, standing at the front, waiting for her like he had waited for that moment his whole life.
Wondering what debt her father owed this man, enormously huge enough to worth the life of his only child.
Matteo's dark gaze penetrated her soul, piercing her like a dagger. Her fingers curled around the delicate pleats of the wedding dress, fear clawing at her.
The sight of him terrified her. It made her blood run cold in the same way it did when she stood in front of him earlier, reciting those deceptive vows. Taking this man. His hand. His name. And become His.
"Take off your clothes," he said.
His voice was quiet, but there was an unyielding coldness in his tone.
A shiver ran down her spine, her hand grasped tighter to the fold of her dress.
The mental image of his hands on her made her skin crawl. She squeezed her eyes shut. She dreaded it.
She was to be his wife on paper, the paper that sealed whatever deal he had with her father. Not in his bed.
"Don't make me ask again."
His voice was sharper this time, louder. It cut through her thoughts.
He sat up and relaxed on the headboard, lit a cigar and inhaled and exhaled deeply. The smoke curled around him like idle mist.
The earthy choking scent clashed against the floral scent of the candles that lined the room.
When his eyes fell on her again, her hands hurriedly found behind the intricate lacing of the dress. Losing the woven ties with haste, fingers trembling beneath it.
The weight of the dress dropped at her feet, its silky folds pooled around her like a lake, leaving her body clad only by the soft lace of her black panties.
His eyes lingered on her for a moment, unfazed by the beautiful sculptured form before him. Unbothered. No Lust. A piercing gaze devoid of judgement, his eyes boring into her essence.
The air vibrated with tension, a silence that closed the physical distance between them.
Suddenly, the door pounded with urgent, loud knocks, shattering the frail intimacy.
Anastasia moved quickly to cover herself, startled and trembling.
"Boss, we have to move now!" a voice growled. His rough tone with a rich Mexican accent.
Matteo stood up, peeled off his unbuttoned shirt and tossed it at her with a swift motion. The shirt flew through the room and landed with a soft rustle on her.
"Make haste," he said, reaching for his wristwatch on the nightstand.
She slipped into the shirt, her fingers trembling as she struggled with the button.
He didn't wait for her to finish, his patience grew thin.
His hands found her wrist, pulling her towards the door. She stumbled on the gown pooling around her ankles, the shirt flapping open as she tried to keep it together and meet his hurried yet measured pace.
A fleet of cars lined up outside the small elegant house with gleaming lantern lights. Armed figures shattered around, their faces set and unyielding, creating an air of deadly anticipation.
They were Matteo's men, his soldiers.
"Get in," he said, holding the door open for her.
She slid into the black plush interior of the car. He followed closely behind, his presence solid as he fell on the space beside her.
A man slipped into the passenger seat, watching cautiously. Beside him, another sat in the driver's seat, each looking scarier than the other.
Anastasia couldn't help but feel scared, threatened by the guns they each held like an accessory.
"Boss" the man in the passenger seat called, the same voice from earlier.
His gaze searched for Matteo through the rearview mirror.
"Colombia," Matteo responded casually.
She turned briskly to the side where he sat, where the weight of the single word hung. A curious uneasiness hung in the air surrounding her.
It had only been a few hours and her life was taking a new turn. She had never been to Colombia. Even with the wealth in her name, she never had the liberty to travel within the continent, let alone out of it.
But now he was taking her away from everything she knew, everyone she loved. Peach, Lori and the girls at the modeling agency she loved to do their make-up.
The sun looming from the open garden doors cast a warmth that slowly awakened Anastasia.
Her eyes fluttered open to the bright room painted in delicate white. The swimming pool outside, just beyond the doors, visible from the ruffled sheets of the bed where she lay.
A large abstract painting hung at the far end of the room.
A huge oval-shaped dressing mirror sat opposite the bed.
She caught her reflection. Matteo's black silk shirt draped over her.
She sat up, brushing her hand into her shattered hair in an attempt to fix it.
It was eerily quiet, the only noise was the rippling water and whistling of birds.
The last thing she remembered was Matteo forcefully carrying her into a private jet on the tarmac when she hesitated. Her mind had gone blank after that, strangely.
Her eyes moved to scan the room, wondering if all of it was a dream. She pushed the heavy duvet away and set her feet on the cold floor.
Abstract portraits decorated the walls of the hallway, it was quiet, every step brewing a fear within.
She wanted to have a glimpse of hope, that all of it was a dream, but his shirt wrapped around her blurred the chances.
She followed the faint sound of voices. The quiet voices got louder as she got closer to the ray of sunlight.
She stepped into the brightly lit living room. The sliding glass doors opened to reveal a lush countryside view.
A group of men sat around casually. Chattering, drinking and wafting the air with smoke from their cigars. A few clothed in T-shirts, others adorned the tattoos covering their skin. On the small center table laid firearms, bundles of cash and lighters.
And then, his eyes.
Her eyes fell on them, he'd been watching her.
Those eyes, the familiar gaze when she walked the aisle to make a vow.
'I do'.
The hesitation slipped off her tongue. Hoping that Peach's exhilarated lick would soon wake her up from the nightmare of belonging to this man.
A young woman with long curly hair entered with more drinks.
She looked about Anastasia's age, dressed in skinny jeans, a top that hung below her breasts and knee-length boots. She chattered with them for a while. Laughing, flirting.
"Thanks Raquel," one of the guys said.
She headed towards the kitchen, her eyes brushing at Anastasia, who stood behind a wall watching them. A small smile curved on Raquel's lips.
Anastasia looked at where he sat, and he was gone. The quiet chattering of his men still carried on, none paying her any attention.
"Make breakfast"
She flinched. Matteo's breath fanned her hair from behind. She had been too distracted watching the girl, Raquel, to notice him crawl up behind her.
His presence terrified her, the warmth of him standing so close made her skin crawl.
"Make haste, Anastasia"
It was the first she heard him say her name. It rolled off his tongue with a soft menace, cast in a mix of Italian and American accents.
She turned around, but he was gone. Her eyes searched the living room. There was no sight of him nearby.