ROYAL BRIDE (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (3 page)

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key he kept there just in case. He had hoped she would accept her fate as his wife and that he wouldn’t need to go to such great lengths with her, but she was making it abundantly clear it wasn’t to work that way.

Lifting the key into the air so she could see it, he stepped into the hallway. “You will not leave this room until I allow it.” He pulled the door shut and locked it from the outside. It was only a matter of moments before he heard her little fists pounding on the door and her demanding to be let out.

He turned to the guards posted outside the door. “Not one delicate foot out of this room. And no one is allowed entry.” Both men nodded and looked at the closed door that housed their princess, who was cursing a blue streak and kicking the door along with beating it with her fists.

ISABELLA

Sitting at the small table in the room she was locked into, Isabella pushed her eggs from one side of the plate to the other. She wished Antonio would return so she could make things right. She wouldn’t go so far as to completely apologize, but she would give just enough to free herself from this prison.

After wasting all of her energy trying to beat down a door that never opened, she had gone back to bed, seething at herself more than at him. She should never have confessed her thoughts out loud, but had let them slip because she was in a daze after experiencing such an immense orgasm.

It wasn’t the first orgasm she’d had, nor even her second, but it was the first time she’d had an orgasm while having sex. Or had sex at all for that matter. Isabella wanted to question him further on why he didn’t think she had been a virgin. Wasn’t it still tradition on his island for the royal princess to remain untouched until her wedding day? And why would he think she would disrespect that tradition? Just because she liked to wear her necklines lower and bikinis instead of a beach frock?

The longer she thought about it, the more her anger festered, and she needed to control her temper if she was to be released from the bedroom. Antonio hadn’t stayed away all night. She heard him return when she was almost asleep, and when he got into bed, he’d pulled her close to him. They’d slept entangled. His heavy arm was still around her when she woke the next morning.

He hadn’t said much to her when he woke. He told her he needed to meet with his father and would be back after breakfast. As far as she knew, the wedding guests were already gone from the estate, and her own father was leaving at first light. If she didn’t hasten downstairs, she would miss him. After she rushed through a shower, she hurried to dress and ran to the door. Finding it still locked and Antonio gone, she banged on it. Nothing. That’s when she noticed the small breakfast table that had been brought up with a single plate on it. He had grounded her. Like a child!

Finally, the door opened and Antonio walked in, heading for the washroom. She watched him walk past her without saying a word and thought of several insults to hurl at him. None would get her released, however, and she wanted more than anything to get out of the stuffy bedroom.

“Antonio, have you eaten?” She decided to go the murder-by-kindness route.

“Yes. We all had breakfast in the dining room,” he called to her from the washroom over the running water.

“Who is ‘we all?’” She bounded from her chair and stood at the foot of the bed until he came back into the room. He was dressed in another suit, but with no tie, and the top button of the light blue shirt was unbuttoned, giving her a slight glance at his chest. The man had more muscle than his clothing revealed. He should have unbuttoned another button, or—better yet, seeing as they were in their room—taken his shirt off completely.

He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his pants and leaned his shoulder against the bathroom door jamb. “My parents and your father and brother.”

She felt the heat rise up into her cheeks and tears build in her eyes. They would know her humiliation. “Is my father still here?”

“No. He and your brother left immediately after we ate.” He watched her as she let the information sink in. She half-sat on the bed, trying not to let her anger morph into sadness. She knew her father would be leaving, and her brother, of course, would go with him, but she had hoped to say goodbye. If they’d just finished breakfast, maybe she could still catch him.

“How long ago was that?” She jumped to her feet, ready to run for the door.

He looked at his watch casually and shrugged. “An hour ago.”

“My father left an hour ago, and you didn’t let me say goodbye?” She whispered the accusation.

“Yes. Did you eat?” He walked past her, giving her a side glance as he moved around her to look at her plate. Although she had moved the contents around, not much food was actually eaten. “You should eat. We are leaving on our trip this afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you let me say goodbye?” She ignored his comment about their trip.

“Because you would have begged him to take you home. You would have embarrassed yourself further by demanding to be taken off my island and tucked away in his estates.” He raised an eyebrow, daring her to tell him he was wrong. Which he wasn’t—that had been her plan.

“Did you tell him you locked me away?” she demanded with a stomp of her foot.

“Yes and no. I told him you weren’t going to be joining us because your disposition suggested you weren’t ready.” He spoke so easily, so calmly, that she wanted to hurl the other slipper at him. “I did not tell him that in order to keep you obedient to my decision, I had to lock you in the rooms. I felt that would bring too much shame to him and your brother.”

“Shame—” She felt the bile rise up in her throat. Her goal slipped further and further away with each new insult he hurled at her, so she decided it best to end their conversation. “I would like to leave the room. Now that there is no one left who can rescue me, may I?” The question might have been posed a bit more submissively had she not fisted her hands and put them on her hips when she asked it.

“You may leave the rooms, but you may not leave the grounds. We are flying to Chicago after lunch, and I don’t want to have to send the guards out searching for you.”

“For all the—” She paused and took a deep breath. “Antonio. I have a watch. If you tell me what time you’d like me to be back, I will make sure I don’t miss our plane.”

“You will be back in this room no later than twelve-thirty.”

His scowl didn’t sit well with her, even if she was angry at him. They had only been wed a day, and they could barely stand the sight of each other. “Antonio, have you thought any more about my suggestion?” She broached the subject with a hesitant voice.

“I have.” He gave her a small smile. “And you’re right, better not to delay our duties. Be back here at noon sharp. I’ll have need of your body before we leave on our trip.” He marched out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

She sank onto the bed and listened for the lock to be latched. Nothing. Letting out a long breath, Isabella closed her eyes tightly and tried to get her emotions in order. Not only did he not see her way of thinking, but he hated her for it. She knew, as his wife, she really had no say in where she lived or how he chose to use her body. By law in both of their backward countries, he did, in fact, own her.

When she first met Antonio at her own home, she had found him incredibly handsome. She even found his domineering behaviors sexy, but that was before he said such horrible things. He had lessened her to nothing but a brood mare, to be used for birthing children and then cast aside. She’d seen plenty of women in royal courts sent away to a country estate after they provided the kingdom with several male heirs. The idea held much merit, except most of the women were denied the privilege of taking the children with them. She couldn’t fathom leaving her children behind.

Everything was going wrong.

Isabella walked through the streets of the cramped city market, looking for a new trinket to take to Chicago. An old friend lived there, and she wanted to give her a bracelet.

Leaving the grounds would anger Antonio, but considering everything she said and did seemed to irritate him anyway, it didn’t really matter. When she turned down a narrow alleyway, she realized she’d been so lost in her thoughts over the mess with her husband that she was no longer on the outskirts of the marketplace. Stopping, she looked around. She couldn’t hear the marketplace or any other sounds of the busy streets.

“Help! Stop!” She suddenly heard a woman screaming from further down the alley. Without thought, she ran toward the cry. “No! Please!” The scream became more panicked.

Isabella turned the corner and saw a woman, not much older than herself, being manhandled by three men. One had her by her arms, and the other men held her feet. She was kicking and crying, but the men were very large and had no trouble subduing her.

Isabella looked down the alley, but no one was anywhere nearby. How had she gotten herself so lost? She couldn’t take on three men as large as they were, and if they saw her, they might very well take her too. She dug around her purse, keeping an eye on the men to be sure they didn’t notice where she ducked down behind a dumpster.

Her fingers wrapped around her phone, but she realized that she didn’t have Antonio’s direct phone number or even the estate number. How foolish she had been to leave the estate without taking those things into consideration!

“Please!” The woman’s shrill scream was cut short by the slamming of a van door. Isabella cursed to herself and felt tears burn her eyes. She was such a coward! If Raphael had been there, he would have charged forward and saved the woman.

Two men were gone, having disappeared into the van with the screaming girl, while the third jogged around the front and jumped into the driver’s side. The van started up with a low rumble before it sprang to life. Isabella did the only thing she could think to do. She snapped photos of the van as it began to roll toward her. She ducked further behind the dumpster but held her phone above her, hitting the photo button repeatedly until the van had returned to the main street and was gone.

When she could no longer see it, she leaned back against the brick wall and let out the breath she’d been holding. Her sandaled foot slipped on the wet pavement beneath her and she stumbled forward, scraping her knee on the ground and hitting her forehead on the edge of the dumpster.

“Serves me right,” she grumbled. She picked herself up and wiped off what dirt she could. Looking at her watch, Isabella realized she had only twenty minutes to get back to the estate and into her bedroom before Antonio realized she was missing.

Twenty minutes might have been enough time if she had known where she was and if her legs weren’t cemented to the ground in fear.

 

ANTONIO

 

The morning could have gone better. Their wedding night could have gone a hell of a lot better. Antonio paced in front of his desk, going over and over the conversations he’d had with his wife—if the word ‘conversation’ could even be used to describe them. He congratulated himself on not yelling at her, but he had still lost his temper. He’d locked his bride in their bedroom on their wedding night!

Her father and brother didn’t seem surprised at all that Isabella wouldn’t be joining them for breakfast. He had hoped in the weeks before their wedding that she would have come to accept her role as his wife, but she had spent them trying to get out of the obligation. Since that had not worked, she was now turning her manipulations on him.

Did Isabella honestly think that she could withhold sex from him until he gave into what she wanted? The girl clearly did not understand what their relationship would be like, and as soon as she showed up, he was going to set the ground rules. And then he was going bend her over the bed and sink his cock into her tight, hot pussy. Just thinking about her round ass in the air, waiting for his penetration, made his cock painfully lustful.

“Sir! We’ve found her.”

Antonio stopped mid-step and looked at his guard with curiosity. “Found who, Julian?” He looked at his watch. She was late. “My wife?”

Julian blanched and nodded silently.

“Wasn’t she on the grounds?” When he’d told her not to leave the estate, he’d put two of his guards in charge of keeping an eye on her, knowing full well she’d try to walk right out the front gate. She didn’t fully understand the dangers on his island, and he hadn’t taken the time to discuss them. Overall, crime was low, but recently there had been a gang of men stirring up trouble in the city.

“No. She got out.”

“Got out?” Antonio took a deep breath. “We are talking about my wife, Julian, and not one of the pet dogs?”

“Yes, sir. Princess Isabella must have seen Jose and myself following her. She disappeared into one of the garden houses, and when she didn’t come out shortly after, we went in, but she was gone.”

“She was gone. But now she’s back.”

“Yes, sir. Jose found her. She was in the city, walking toward the marketplace when he found her.”

“Toward the marketplace?” Antonio shook his head and waved his hand. “Never mind, I’ll ask her. Where is she now?”

“She ran up to your rooms, Your Highness.”

“Ran.” Antonio laughed. “Because she’s late, and she directly disobeyed me.”

The guard bowed as Antonio walked past him and headed toward their rooms. He took the stairs two at a time, beginning to conjure up the list of things he was going to say to Isabella just as soon as he had her bare-assed and apologetic.

When he flung open the doors, he expected to find her standing prim as you please, waiting for him with a smirk of satisfaction, but what he found was something completely different. Her forehead had a gash on the side. The bleeding had stopped and had been minimal, but he could see the dried blood well enough to know she took a hard hit. The capri pants she wore didn’t hide the two-inch round scrape on her knee, and her eyes were red and puffy. She’d been crying, and looked very much on the verge of doing it again.

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