Marry the Don

Chapter 37

Like my parents used to when I dared to balk at their rules.

“Even if I did give you some sort of contraceptive Arianna,” She said kindly, “He’d fire me and bring in another doctor, probably a male who would care very little for your comfort or well-being, and he’d have them counteracted.”

“ So I have no choice but to be bred?” I snapped and then looked away, hating how my fight wasn’t even with her but instead with Nicolas. Who conveniently wasn’t here to receive my anger. “Whatever.” I picked the cup up off the table and stomped my way to the ensuite. “Maybe I’ll be infertile, so he can off me and find another wife better suited for his needs.”

I slammed the door shut behind me and leaned my head against it as a sudden feeling of despondence fell onto my shoulders.

I was once again, just a piece in someone else’s sick and twisted game. My feelings, wants, and needs didn’t matter.

I didn’t matter.

My whole life my parents had beaten into me that everything they did to me was for the bettering chance to one day be important to them.

To someone else.

But I wasn’t important. I wasn’t consequential. I wasn’t loved. Never loved.

Never wanted. Only used.

As the hardwood of the door bit into my forehead I felt a hardness growing around my heart and through my spine.

If he thought I’d just be a good little wife and play the part he wanted me to, he was wrong. I wasn’t going to just lie down and let him use me to serve his needs.

I maybe a Capasso now, but I was still Arianna.

It was time I started acting like my own savior since I was starting to realize I was never going to have a knight in shining armor come and rescue me from this tower I was locked in.

I’d traded my parents ’ cruelty for captivity and sexual exploitation.

I wasn’t sure if I’d rather go back to being drugged, starved, and beaten than be manipulated by a man who was so good at playing with my mind that I let him play with my body without even realizing how uneven the scoreboard was.

Not anymore though.

I took the cup to the toilet and angrily stripped out of the offensive red satin and gave my sample, simply because I knew there was no way around it. When I was done, I washed my hands and wrapped a fresh white towel around my body staring at myself in the large mirror and I hardly recognized the anger burning in my eyes.

I opened the drawers of the vanity until I found the dainty pair of scissors, I’d seen there the other day and held them in my hands, contemplating how effective they’d be to stab my husband with, in his sleep. However, I knew that was ridiculous because the blades were barely an inch long. Was I even the kind of woman who had it in her to harm another person, even a man so deserving of it as Nicolas Capasso.

The blades were long enough to shred satin though.

I picked up the robe and body suit and sliced them both to tattered shreds with shaking hands until I was left with a pile of fabric completely unrecognizable from what they had resembled moments ago.

A feral smile pulled up one side of my lips when I looked back in the mirror. I may not be able to best my husband at his own game. But I could sure as hell make him as miserable as I was along the way.

I tore the beautiful diamond choker from my neck that he had told me to leave on and flung it against the opposite wall, reveling in the way it clattered to the marble floor in a heap.

Fuck him.

Fuck his commands.

Fuck it all.

Adrenalin and anger pulsed inside of me like a living thing, and I needed a new outlet for it, or I’d go insane. I left the bathroom, ignoring the doctor and my maid completely, and walked to the master closet. I found the thickest and most drab clothing I owned, a black hooded sweater and a pair of grey leggings, and pulled them on over my body, shielding it from anyone who dared to look at me.

Next, I turned my attention to the drawers full of expensive lingerie that my husband was so fond of instructing me to wear.

Well, like I said before, fuck him.

I pulled piece after piece out, shredding them each with the scissors and throwing them in a pile on the floor like I was preparing for a large fire. Molly cautiously walked into the closet and stood at the doorway, watching me destroy the clothing like it had personally offended me and while I felt powerful for doing it, I also felt childish.

Used.

“I actually felt pretty in them,” I whispered after a long stretch of silence between us, with only the noise of me shredding the clothing to fill the space. “ Stupid, huh?”

“No,” Molly replied gently, walking into the room to stand on the other side of the counter where I mutilated thousands of dollars of apparel that she had painstakingly folded and arranged by color for me. “I think you’re justified in your anger right now.”

“Hmm,” I huffed and then paused when she handed me a new pair of lace panties to shred. “Doesn’t this piss you off?” I nodded to the pile of chaos before me. “The mess of it all?”

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders, “If I know Mr. Capasso at all, he’ll simply buy you more. And I’ll arrange those pieces the same as these. If it makes you feel better to take your anger out on something, then I’ll help.” She sighed, “Because I’m unable to help you in a way that matters.”