Page 49 of His to Own

He pauses and looks at me and then at the book. “You have a poem about me in here.”

“Give me that back.”

“Why did you write a poem about me, Elena?”

“Because you scare me.”

He holds the journal up. “But this poem doesn’t make it sound like you’re afraid of me. It makes it sound like you’re attracted to me. Are you attracted to me, Elena?”

“I can’t say. Please. Just give me that back.”

“No.” His tone is hard. There’s no changing his mind. “I want to know what’s in that head of yours and I’m going to make you tell me.”

My heart rate spikes and my neck breaks out into goosebumps. “How?”

“Get on the bed.”

Chapter Seven

Maxim

Ican tell Elena is scared. Always so scared and timid my new wife is. I’ve tried being patient since I knew this was all knew for her but enough is enough. Elena is going to tell me what’s on her mind.

Why did she write this poem about me? It’s quite flattering. The poem describes my facial features to perfection. She spends a lot of time on my eyes. Elena is hiding things in that head of hers and I’m going to break it wide open.

She needs some tough love from me.

“Get on the bed,” I repeat.

Her eyes flick to it and back to me. “I…”

“Do as I say.” I make sure my tone doesn’t waver. I have no intentions of hurting her but I guess Elena doesn’t know that.

Slowly, she kneels on the bed, her chin lowered to her chest. Naturally submissive from all the years her father broke her down. Well, I’m going to help her heal. I have no desire to have a scared, little wife running around all the time.

“Lay down on your back,” I command.

Elena squeezes her eyes shut and lays down on the bed, shaking the entire time. God, she’s so afraid. It’s painful to watch. What has happened to this girl to make her like this?

“Tell me, Elena. What has your father done to you? Tell me it all.”

She clasps her hands over her stomach. “He…”

“Tell me,” I say in a gentle tone. She looks like a maiden out of a painting as she lies on the bed in her pretty pink gown and brown hair fawning around her head.

“He’s always been so cold to me,” she whispers, keeping her eyes shut. Maybe it helps her to not think of me being here.

“I gathered that. But how exactly?”

“He never loved me the way he did my sisters. With Lana, he was proud that she was a ballerina. He loved to brag to his friends about her performances. Adriana is the baby. I think he loves her for that reason. Spoils her at times.”

“And you?”

She swallows so hard, it’s visible to me. “I’m not fully sure why he hates me so much. I think it has to do with my writing. He found my book of poetry and didn’t like what I had on my mind.”

“He didn’t like that you were speaking the truth in your writing, is that it?”

She nods. “He almost burned my book but then threw it away instead. I took it back and kept it hidden.”