Ice cold.

I dragged the suitcases down the hall, wondering if I was supposed to move them to his bedroom, or if there was a guest bedroom I could stay in.

I tried to open the doors of the rooms located on either side of the hall, but all of them were locked.

The only door that remained open was his bedroom, and that was all I needed to know that I wasn't provided with a private space for myself.

With no other option to take, I dragged the suitcases into his bedroom and set them aside near the door.

I knew I had less than an hour to get ready, and I was desperate to get out of this wedding dress, so I opened one of the suitcases in search of a more comfortable dress.

A frown covered my face when I realized that most of the dresses, almost all of them, didn't belong to me. They were all brand new, their tags still attached.

I haven't gone shopping in the last one year, which was why I was staring at the opened suitcase with wide eyes.

I reached for the other suitcase and pulled the zipper open to be met with more clothes that didn't belong to me.

I looked through the clothes and counted maybe ten that originally belonged to me out of both the large suitcases. The rest were new.

Was my father responsible for this? I wondered.

A soft scoff escaped my lips at the thought. Did he buy these clothes before or after he decided to sell me off?

I shut the thought of my father down. The mere thought of him made my head hurt, and my back ache as if someone had stabbed me with betrayal.

I picked the dress that offered the most coverage, a black, full-sleeved dress that was the length of my height, good enough to cover me from neck to ankles.

With the dress nested in my arms, I looked around the bedroom in hopes of locating which door led to the bathroom.

There were two doors in the bedroom, and since there were no other doors that would open in the apartment, I had to assume that one of these doors led into a bathroom.

I walked around the room, discovering a walk-in closet first, and then a bathroom.

I was desperate for a hot shower, hoping it would wash the previous day away, hoping the heat would burn my skin enough to make me forget the reality I was currently living.

Only, I was not as lucky to have my way even once.

The hot shower I was looking forward to was not happening. 

Opening the water, I held my right hand under it to check when it heated up. No matter how long I waited, it kept running cold.

I looked up at the water heater, wondering if it was broken. 

A sigh of frustration escaped my lips, hating the fact that I had to shower with cold water.

I haven't showered in cold water in a year, unable to get over the trauma of being doused with ice water whenever my captor wanted me wide awake.

I shook my head, pinching my eyes closed to stop myself from thinking about the past yet again.

Placing the black dress on the edge of the tub, I slid out of the wedding dress and felt the weight of not just the fabric, but also the burden, drop from my shoulders.

After sliding my shoes off, I stepped into the shower and immediately shivered when the cold water touched my skin.

My teeth chattered, and my shoulders stiffened as I forced myself to stand under the cold water, refusing to move a muscle until I got used to it. 

I used the only soap I could find and took a quick shower before I hopped out. That was not even close to the relaxation I was looking forward to. 

My next mission was to look for a blow-drier. I looked through the drawers under the sink and found one.

Taking it out from the drawer with both of my hands, I pulled the cord up, only to discover that it was cut.

I stood there, wondering why anyone would keep something that didn't work. With no other way to dry my hair quickly, I used one of the smaller towels to dry as fast as I could, then slipped into the black dress I chose.

With a mostly dried hair and a full-length black dress, I held my wedding dress to my chest and walked out of the bathroom.

I searched the suitcases for shoes and realized that I was stuck with the white flats I wore to my wedding.

I stood in front of the two suitcases barefoot, wondering how I was going to fit my wedding dress.

It was something too little to worry about, considering the day I had ahead of me. Yet I was desperate to hide the white dress and get it out of my sight.

I was in the middle of figuring out which way to make it fit in when I heard the elevator ding.

I looked towards the open door down the hall, wondering if my one hour to get ready was up, and if either the man I married or Connor were there to pick me up.

A slow footstep echoed in the silent apartment floor as someone stepped out of the elevator.

The wedding dress slid out of my grip and fell to the floor as the rest of my attention went to the hall.

I stepped over the wedding dress and cautiously walked towards the door of the bedroom, silently slipping out to the hall to get a look at the person who came in.

I came to a stop halfway through the hall when a man came into my sight, a man I was not expecting to see. 

It was not Jacopo Nicolo.

It was not Connor, one of the twins who should have been there to pick me up.

It was someone else.

The small light bulb barely provided much view of the face, yet the danger I felt at the mere sight of him was crippling.

I took a small step back when the man zeroed his eyes at me.

No!

He's supposed to be dead.

The man slightly tilted his head to the side as he stared at me, and all I saw was the face of Eliot Williamson, the man who stole my life.