Chapter 7: Bernard’s Warning

Though Scar hardly noticed it, the reception hall hummed with whispers and glass clinking. The laughs, the courteous conversation - all felt so far off from the whirlpool she was ensnared in. Though all she felt was the weight of a thousand eyes watching her, it was supposed to be a happy event. Her fingers tensely following the edge of her glass, she stood in the far corner of the room. Although the ceremony had finished hours ago, the tight knot in her chest had not relaxed.

Scarlet understood she lived in a world that hardly acknowledged her presence and did not welcome her. She was here primarily because of the arrangement she had negotiated with Tucker. Her gut turned over when she saw him across the hall. While she felt like an outsider nay, more like a prisoner, he was deep in conversation with his colleagues, the model of cool control. His eyes strayed over the room, pausing momentarily on her, but it was only a cursory scan, as though she were only another component of his painstakingly created universe. Then, though, a hand lightly stroked her arm, dragging her from her thoughts. Bernard's familiar voice replied softly, "Scarlet." Though amid this sea of strangers, his voice sounded like a lifeline. He was her oldest friend and the one person she could trust. "We must talk." They left the reception and slid into a more sedate section of the estate. As Bernard guided her to a quiet alcove, where the strain she had been carrying from the minute she entered Tucker's world could at last be released, the noises of the party disappeared into the distance. His brow wrinkled as he briefly regarded her. "Scarlet, you ought not be here. Not you is what this is. Their universe is not supposed to include you. You know him; he is dangerous. Though his voice was quiet, his words carried urgency that set her heart racing. Her voice quivering somewhat, she replied, "I have no choice." Though the truth loomed large between them, she found it difficult to own how far she had descended. "I was obliged to do this. I was at a loss for another choice. Every everything I owned was vanishing from the house. I didn't " "Didn't what?"? Bernard interrupted, his voice harder now. "You would not have imagined this occurring? That he would use you, denigrate you, underwrite you, manipulate you? He will be doing exactly that. Neither does he care about you, Scarlet. Never did he do. For him, this game is entertaining. For you leaving him all those years ago, here is a penalty. Her throat closed, the words slicing across her like a razor knife. She had no space to dispute, even though the taste of betrayal stayed sour in her tongue. The contract was signed.

Turning back was not an option. Bernard said, "Scarlet he'll break you if you allow him," his voice low with fear and rage. "This entire thing..." Errors abound. As Scarlett stared at him, her chest clenched and the weight of his words sank in. She could, however, also do what else? Her last piece of her parents left, she had nowhere else to go and no other way to salvage the place she loved. Scarlet woke to the hard, frigid truth of her circumstances the following morning. The home was hauntingly silent; its marble flooring and immaculate décor just made her feel more alone. Her eyes followed the reflection of the woman she had become caught in a golden cage, bound by laws she did not own as she stood in front of the big, elaborate mirror in her bedroom. She had just had time to acclimate to the chill of the evening before when a tap on the door cut off her contemplation. Tucker here. She had barely seen him the night before, and when she answered the door he stood towering and commanding, his face impenetrable as always. He answered, bluntly, "Come with me," his voice as chilly as the stone underfoot. "We should review the guidelines of our cooperation. Scarlet trailed him, feeling the weight of each stride she made. Once a monument to success and power, his estate felt like a jail. She had been so in love with him, so charmed by the life he presented, but now all she saw was a guy who had imprisoned her away in a world he created.

He drove her to a large office. Perfect decoration of the space matched his chilly, deliberate attitude. He straight and forceful strode to the desk and sat behind it. Scarlet stood before him, her eyes darting over the scattered papers. He pushed a document across the table, confident you have read the terms. But I will make it plain. Following my guidelines will be your habit. In merely name, you will be my wife; nothing more is involved. Not one exception here. Should you violate the guidelines, there will be penalties. Tucker's icy stare never turned away from her face, and Scarlet felt herself shrink in response. This was a contract, a transaction not a marriage. She might also be the pawn. "The rules are basic," he said, his voice low, even predatory. "You will remain here, right next to me. You will not leave this house unless I specifically say otherwise; you will attend the events I call for. You will perform as I expect you to and wear what I tell you, when I tell you. I mine is your life, Scarlet. Remember nothing else. Her heart surged in her breast as she listened to him; the words sank right into her soul. She had arrived here? How had everything she once loved become a jail she created? She started to object, but Tucker's stare sharpened her before she could talk. Leaching forward slightly, he continued, "You will follow these regulations, or I'll make sure you regret it." His fingers extended out to softly but firmly clasp her wrist; his breath caressed her ear. She shivered down her spine from his icy touch. "understand??" Scarlet agreed, while her mind shouted for her to fight, to flee. She couldn't, though. Still to come. She had no choice. Two people pushed into a life they never desired would be silently tense in the days following the "marriage". Scarlet participated, always at arm's distance, going to business meetings at Tucker's side and galas. But every interaction served as a reminder of the abyss separating the man she had once loved from the man he had grown to be. There was obvious seething annoyance between them. He still hated her for divorcing him. She couldn't ignore the spark of passion that persisted between them even if she detested the world he had imprisoned her in. It happened one night while they were by themselves in the study, the weighty quiet enveloping them.

As Tucker approached, uncomfortably close, Scar had been reviewing some of her own documentation. He leaned over her shoulder and his presence was overwhelming, his warmth violating her personal space. His low-key snarl inquired, "What are you hiding?" His breath zipped over her skin, shocking her veins with lightning. Scarlet's heart surged for a single second with something not quite terror. She tossed the papers away, attempting to keep her voice steady: "I'm not hiding anything," she said. Tucker's gaze darkened; before she could respond, he gripped her wrist once more, his hold tightening as he drew her closer. You think you could lie to me? His voice was low and quite calm. "You're hiding something, Scarlet. I know. Everything else vanished at that one second. Their collision in an intense moment brought together the rage, the frustration, the need. Tucker's lips turned immediately to hers, sharp and demanding, as though he were claiming something always his. Scarlet's breath stopped, her body betraying her as she discovered she was responding against every mental warning. But the kiss stopped quite abruptly as well. Tucker retreated, his eyes glistened with a frigid wrath not commensurate with their justifiable indignation. His voice a low growl, he cautioned not to forget who is in charge here. Scarlet froze, her body shaking from the passionate kiss—from the force of all that had just occurred. Underneath the rage, though, she could sense the old connection—one she had not been able to ignore lately.