Bound By Sins

OPHELIA LAURENT'S POV

"I hate you and that's final." I began stepping backward. I wanted nothing more than to get away from this beautiful monster, but things never worked my way.

I stumbled back into a tray of hot coffee which sat carelessly on his desk, and before the cup of coffee could leave a burn on my skin, the monster had caught me by my wrist, changing our position and letting the hot liquid fall on his legs instead.

My eyes widened as he hovered over me, pinning me to the wall, his gaze on me cold and angry, but I still tried to play unconcerned and savage. "Getting splashed by the coffee would have been better than standing close to yo-" His hand gripped my throat tightly, and I gasped, swallowing the rest of my words.

"Let's see if you'd be able to talk with that mouth of yours when I go balls deep in your throat."

FIVE YEARS AGO

Tonight, I wouldn't hold back. I had been studying him for days since I first saw him on our dimly lit patio. I had yet to see his face, but I saw his broad shoulders, fine narrow waist in a crisp black shirt that hugged his body not too tightly but was enough to show the fine bulge of his muscles, and I knew it was him immediately, my husband. The man who had kept himself hidden from me from the beginning of our two fucked-up years of marriage.

A hysterical laugh graced my lips, remembering how the clouds had teared up on my behalf as I dressed in a white dress standing on the altar, shivering and lonely with everybody watching as I wore a ring on a dummy's hand, a lifeless replacement for the husband I did not know.

My father felt it was nothing. All my father wanted at that time was money and fame, knowing his daughter was getting married to a nameless yet super-rich being who had paid ten million dollars, given him fleets of cars, and three estates in Texas in replacement for keeping his daughter hostage in a luxurious old mansion.

When I call him "Anonymous," "The wealthy unknown," and "nameless," I mean it. On our marriage certificate, "Hus" was his first name, and "Band" was his last. "Hus Band." I could remember more tears blinding my eyes that day, knowing I had just gotten married to a narcissist, a sadist, and a bully who derived pleasure in mocking others.

He married me just to mock me. I had always thought about that, but my father, with his sweet tongue, had said my husband was a busy man, but the asshole of a father didn't know him. This shadow of a husband proved us wrong; the first time I saw his back on the patio, I felt a shudder run down my spine as I watched him wash his hands with the shower head the maids used to water the flowers.

That day, I watched him pause washing his hands for a while, and I quickly pulled the curtain closed to prevent him from turning back to catch me staring, even though I had the urge to see his face and ask him if he was really the one I married, keeping me hostage here for the past two years with guards blocking the large gate.