SHE IS HIS

She stared at the reflection of a beautiful woman. Dark hair, black eyes, red fabric, and tears.

She was used to staring at the arabesque design on the border of her mirror, finding it more stare-worthy than herself.

Not today.

Today she stared at herself. Not contemptuous, not sad. Just numb. She knew this was to happen any day now and it had. She had prepared herself enough to not shed any tears now. As much as her eyes brimmed full, she trapped her emotions inside, holding herself together.

She half expected her marriage to be fixed with some other Russian bastard. At least then she wouldn't have had to leave her country, but yesterday when she heard the Italians' forthcoming, she had nothing to say. The mere idea of settling in a new place with strangers haunted her and it would have haunted anyone if they knew whose hand she was promised to.

Her father hadn't told her a word about whom she was to marry. It was as if she was just a good to be transported in exchange for relations.

Not that she ever expected him to convey the whereabouts of what decisions he took for her, but she still felt betrayed. Her heart had sunk at the news. Of all she had at least wished to be in the same country she brought up in, the culture she had gotten used to.

Yesterday her father had entered her room, knocking the breath out of her as she felt herself taken aback. He hadn't shown himself for months, and even on the rare occasions she saw him was far away from the window, or balcony, never from up this close.

"Do not ruin my reputation" was all he had said before leaving, giving no context whatsoever. Before confusion could sweep over her being, maids had intruded on her privacy, informing her of the preparations for her wedding. A woman appraised of arranged marriage by her servant and her father telling her to behave, that was all that happened. And now she was ready to do a customary meeting with her fiancé before marriage, a tradition that was supposed to help them understand each other.

She wanted to scoff at it. It was far from a tradition rather than a meeting to confirm that a woman indeed had the assets the man was promised. She felt disgusting at the thought of a stranger measuring her value by her body and it was even more saddening that she could do nothing about it.

It was the moments like these when she remembered her mother. The same mother who had died too soon, unable to become part of the suffering that Sheila had endured alone.

She slowly stood up from the wooden stool and adjusted the elegant green attire she was given to wear. She blinked back her tears uncertain of her future, reminiscing the ghostly open eyes of her mother when she had died in a gruesome murder. Even in her lifelessness, she had watched her little daughter with warmth, smiling as she took her last breath, leaving the fifteen-year-old girl screaming and weeping.

She sharply inhaled, forcing the memories out of her system. Looking at herself for the last time, before leaving the sight of a mirror.

With her head held high, she walked out of the room. Two maids waiting for her outside ushered their mistress to the stellar living room of their mansion.

As she heard the murmur of voices from the hallway her confidence crumbled, melting at the men's powerful voice booming across the walls.

With each step nearer to the hall, her hands started shaking, she tightly fisted her sweaty palms to constrain her visible shiver. And just like that she stood at the frame of their majestic living room. The conversations in the room immediately ceased. She could feel dozens of stares looking her way, shifting up and down. She didn't dare look up to meet the eyes of the men in the room.

"Aah come here darling" her father's voice penetrated the silence.

She hesitantly took steps in his direction, slightly adjusting her dress to make sure she walked acceptably right.

With a quick motion to his left, he gestured for her to sit next to him.

"Meet my daughter, the only one I have" her father mused delightfully. She hated how he mentioned her as his property. He was looking forward to using her to gain alliance.

"Name" a powerful voice reverberated in the tense silence.

She felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice on her head. It was different when someone interrupted your verbal argument, but when they disrupt your thoughts, you know they are incomparably dominant.

His single word had managed to shake her to the core. She knew she had to speak before the voice asked again. She already wished for him to be mute, realizing his voice alone could swirl her whole body like a cow in the tornado. She tried to speak, attempting to hide the obvious stutter of her tone.

"Sheila"

"Sheila"

She knew he was already aware of her entire life but that's how the mafia worked. You spoke when told to.

"Why don't we give you some privacy" her father intervened.

Before she could comprehend his words, men had already started standing up to leave the room. She looked up to her father, pleading with her eyes to not leave her alone with him.

As a good father that he was far from being, he didn't spare her a glance, leaving with other Italian guests. Just before closing the door on them, he turned back to look at his only daughter, his gaze stern. She knew what it meant, she either be on her best behavior or get ready to forget any freedom she had in her miserable life.

When he left with the thud of the door, she felt caught in the lion's den. It was surprising how fast he was making her feel claustrophobic.

She still hadn't gathered enough courage to look up to the man in front of her, afraid if she did, she might burn into ashes.

After several long minutes when she thought their first meeting would conclude nothing but silence his stance changed. His cross-legged posture now morphed into a dominating one, his knees spread with sufficient distance to fit three of her.

His sharp gaze pierced her, analyzing his future wife for her place in a dangerous world.

He made no mistake in asserting who was in charge, not that she could ever stand an argument in that. With the growing heat of his gaze, she moved further back in her seat flinching as he spoke,

"Eyes up"

She hated his voice. She made a note to herself to never give him a chance to speak whenever she could. She could already sense how this man loved to control everyone around him.

Her eyes hesitantly peeked up her lashes at the man in front of her. He stared intensely, looking right through her.

By the time her gaze fully reached him, she felt choked, and out of breath. Even sitting she assumed his height to be unfairly tall. His menacing beard covered his dangerously handsome jawline. He looked like a god with the intention of the devil. It was enough to make her gulp in fear. She didn't dare move her eyes from his green forest ones to look down at his body. This was the worst time to check him out. His bulging muscles did a good job of getting noticed even from her peripheral vision. She suddenly felt self-conscious. Her being just a normal-looking girl with not-so-eye-catching features felt wrong to be paired with a Greek God like him. Although she told herself she was straight-up ugly for him, his stare told another story.

Ever so slowly his eyes moved from her black orbs down to her body. She felt completely naked to his eyes as they took in the slight shake of her hands, the small exposed skin of her slender waist, her heaving chest, and the mole in the corner of her lip. His gaze traveled shamelessly over her body as if contemplating her suitability to suffice his needs.

He made her beyond uncomfortable, if she didn't distract him now she feared how much would he explore her on the spot. Without thinking too much she pointed her finger at the door, his gaze traveling up to her eyes.

" the...there's a garden. It's nice" Her stuttering wasn't the part of plan but neither was his unarguable dominance.

The moment his eyes narrowed at her she knew she should have just kept quiet. After an awkward moment of silence, he stood up and walked to the door.

As soon as he realized she wasn't following him he stopped to turn. Suddenly understanding what it meant, she immediately found her foot, practically jogging behind him. They walked out to the garden, him simply uninterested in everything and she uncomfortable in all contexts.

As she silently walked beside him she realised just how little she was. Her head hardly reached his shoulder. When his gaze would turn once in a while in her direction, he would have to look down, and as much as he didn't show it, the difference between captivated him. It wasn't just about height that made him tighten his jaw but the way she carried herself, softly, carefully, hesitantly, so unlike him.

She didn't even know his name and she wasn't curious, just worried. His name was a mystery far minuscule than his intentions. From his voice and language, she had come upon an understanding that he was of serious authority. Whatever reason he had agreed to marry her for, was strictly for his benefit. She only hoped he'd be busy enough to mind his own business and let herself be. She had dreams to achieve and plans to execute. The more his attention was away from her the better. She couldn't help but sigh at the thought.

"You better be fertile"

His sudden statement dragged her out of her thoughts.

Does he want a child??

Of course, he did. She just hadn't expected this subject to come out so early.

"Yes," she meekly replied. A few days ago some doctors had paid her visit to ensure she indeed was fertile. If he didn't take her word for it, her father had medical reports that backed the claim.

To say she was terrified was an understatement. The mere idea of having children had always horrified her. If he was speaking of children even before their marriage meant he wanted to get this done with. She felt both relieved and struck. Children meant the end of her life but it also meant he would get off her back. The latter sounded tempting but at the cost of having children? She was busy with her thoughts when he again broke the silence.

"One week. Then we move to Italy, keep your bags ready"

With that said, he started walking back to the mansion. Just then Sheila thought of it as the perfect timing for a request, a request she always thought would get rejected from her husband, but she had to give it an attempt before giving up.

" Wait" she almost screamed unable to keep up with his pace with her difficult-to-walk-in dress. He sharply turned towards her, a glimpse of annoyance visible on his facial features. She looked up to his face with a strained neck before comprehending whether to say it or not. As the annoyance on his face grew she decided to give up on the silence.

"I am a writer"

His annoyed face became blank again, when he said nothing she illustrated further to make a point.

"Medical writer. I'd like to keep writing after our..." she stalled in her sentence noticing an incomprehensible expression on his face.

She saw him taking a step towards her and then another and another until a distance where it became difficult for her to stretch her neck to his face. His cologne purged her nostrils, and she immediately looked in front, at his buttoned white shirt.

"Our what honey?"

His voice sounded like a brutal slap on her face, his tone taunting, she heard the venom in the cracks of his nose. After all, he didn't want to marry her too, this was all an arrangement.

What must be so crucial that he had to agree to marry me?

Before she could sort out her thoughts a hand snaked to the back of her neck making her shiver in fear at the feeling of his hand tightening on her delicate throat. She immediately looked around for someone to see or hear her in case she screamed.

"Don't even think" he said gritting his teeth, immediately halting her attempts to look for help. She settled to look into his eyes. They made her cower back in fear, destroying any hope she ever held on to. His eyes burned her every desire to ash.

"You won't work" With that, he gave a slight jerk to her neck, letting go before taking long strides back into the mansion. She had prepared herself for this moment long ago but when it finally happened, when she finally saw her dream getting shattered just by one man's disagreement, she allowed herself the privilege to cry.

After minutes of mourning, she paused, finding something odd about what had just happened. She hadn't ignored his hesitance before blatantly repealing.

The way he had given himself a moment to go over her request told her she had to try again.

She wouldn't let herself give up on everything just after a single attempt.

She decided to patiently wait for the next time, she knew she wouldn't be able to give up just yet.

There it was, the most awaited email. In front of it sat Sheila unsure how to feel about it.

She had managed to get an interview after months of hard work but not only did her husband make it clear that she wouldn't work but the interview had been arranged on her wedding day.

She scoffed at the irony, at the cruel fate of life that probably laughed viciously at Sheila.

I shouldn't have hoped

It had been 3 days since she had met this nameless man. Her bags had been packed by her dutiful maids, her father busy with the wedding preparations due in two days.

All she was told to do was sit in her room and look pretty as maids took care of her. She was convinced no matter what beauticians tried to do, they'd never even come closer to making her stand-able next to him. He was out of this world. His curly stiff hair, sharp gaze, and chiseled tall physique were made for a woman entirely different than her. Even if she was to convince him to let her work, seduction was out of the question.

Not only was she completely devoid of the experience but he must have seen far better than to be falling for her.

She closed the laptop with a sigh.

There is no way

Although both the interview and job were online, she knew the answer would be anything but yes.

Is there no way?

She took a deep breath and thought it through.

To be able to convince him, she had to meet him, they had to talk, how?

That... she did not know.

Her head throbbed in pain, she refused to accept her fate - the bitter truth that this is what her life was going to be, devoid of joy and goal. She rested her head on the table with a thud, closing her eyes, unable to control the turmoil of her flooding emotions.

When the pulse became too much, she clutched her hair in frustration, pulling it to relieve the pain. Her orbs brimmed with tears, worried for her foreseeable future.

The more she thought, severely it hurt.

Amid her inner battle with grief, hatred, tears, and exasperation, she heard the melodic tune of her favourite composition, it played like a salve on her burning uproar, silencing the clamour within, for a second.

It took her seconds to realize that her phone was ringing. It was unusual, no one had her number except for her father and she was sure her father wouldn't ever call at this hour. Who could be callin-

It's him

It dawned a little too fast, a little more intensely.

Her mouth went dry.

She knew the caller even before she reached for her cell. Her heartbeat escalated wildly before she picked it up, letting it touch her ear. The hair near her ear stood in anticipation, expecting his voice to echo through her senses any moment now, but all she heard was silence.

She strained her ears to pick up any speck of noise and then she heard it...his sharp inhale.

He couldn't believe he had made decisions at this rate. Sure he had to nail the deal with Russians at any cost, but never had he thought the old man would ask for a hand in his daughter's marriage for signing the contract.

He had agreed in less than a minute, knowing how with Russian or not, his marriage was anyways going to be part of the deal. He was too presumptuous to waste the privilege of marriage for love, especially if he could use it for gains in important matters.

The meeting was only supposed to be a trivial formality, unimportant and useless. He had already formed assumptions. Born rich, with no mother, single daughter, and zero friends, of course, she had to be a cherished spoilt princess in the typically loaded palace.

Much to his surprise, she had come out as anything but that. The sight of her cherubic features and shy demeanor had caught him off guard as much as it had intrigued his insides.

She seemed to be an odd fit to be anywhere in his life and yet she had captured his eye. After not being able to process what witchcraft she had been performing on him, he had called, unaware of his intentions.

She didn't say anything, growing skeptical of the strange phone call, waiting patiently.

As time passed she found herself lying down on the bed on her stomach. Her phone still clutched to her ear while he all but breathed.

What is the meaning of this?

Before she could assume the call was a mistake and cut it off, she heard the two unmistakable words, hitching her breathe,

"I'm coming"

Her will to inquire frantically was met with a frightening beep, he had hung up.

She was flabbergasted, baffled, everything and anything that meant she was panicking. First, he breathed through the phone now, out of nowhere he was coming. Just when she started to get worried it struck her...

He's meeting me, I can talk to him now

This was probably the last opportunity to confront him again, to give it a shot. For whatever reason he was paying a visit, and she decided to turn it in her favor.

Her panic settled slowly, calming down to let her see the positive side of dreadful forthcomings. She strolled back and forth in her room, going over the scenarios, practicing how she'd talk, what she'd say. Her ragged breath morphed into a strange excitement of hope.

Little did she know the cost of her wishes would be too much, that at stakes was a price she could never fully pay, that her little moment of joy was all but little.

Heroically oblivious to her destiny, she did what the lamb never did for the lion,

She waited.

After 15 minutes of going through the email again, she smiled with a newly found hope to linger on.

If he gets convinced, this could work

She stood up from her table and walked to the window to gaze through the moonlight, sighing at the sight of the gibbous, bright moon.

As she rested her head on the frame of the window, her thoughts traveled to imagining her life in Italy.

Would it make any difference?

The question never had any positive answer. After seeing the man, she knew it would be worse. The only mystery was how worse, how much worse.

A screeching of wheels caught her attention when a shining sports car entered their premise. She didn't have to guess who it was. He got out of the car and entered the mansion like a man on a mission. And just like that she lost her breath again. Why did he have this effect on her?

Should I lock the door? I don't want to see him

Why was he coming anyway?

The destructive thoughts crowded her mind, forcing adrenalin into her veins, telling her to either run out the door or jump out the window.

When her thoughts began to roll downhill she forced herself to calm down, focusing on how she would convince him.

If you want a career, you have to do this.

She repeated the mantra, taking deep breaths, pulling herself together.

She noticed that there wasn't a knock before he pushed the door open, letting it close behind him, entering as if he owned the damn place. She stood by her window staring at him wide-eyed as he blessed the air with his distinct cologne, letting the sip of masculinity dip into her feminine room, his white shirt sharply contrasting his dark suit.

The air thickened as he inhaled his share of oxygen. Ever so slowly as he watched her, with a soft click he locked the door, laying his intentions down once and for all.

She realized the trap when she was already caught, in her own house, in her room.

How could I be so stupid?

She had kept her room's lights off, knowing the moonlight was enough to light every part of her room. He admired the darkness, moreover he was about to exploit it.

Shadows engulfed him in a devilish embrace, his face nothing less than a mesmerizing angel reeking deleterious danger.

It wasn't until he took a step towards her did the gravity of the situation descended like a bolting thunder on a sunny day. Even then she couldn't but shake in fear. He had skillfully blocked the door, calling was not an option and if she screamed...she opened her mouth but a meek plea came out. Her body's lack of response terrified her even more, tears gathered in her orbs with horrific anticipation.

With each deliberate step nearer, she gripped the frame of her window tighter, afraid of losing her balance.

It took him three steps to be inches apart from her. He watched her shaken face with incomprehensible expression, taking his suit jacket off, slowly to extend the joy of seeing her rabbit eyes full of regret and fear.

She felt foolish to think that he came to talk when all he wished was different and vile.

She moved her eyes away, unable to meet his diabolical green gaze. She gulped as his hand cupped her neck in a gentle grip, guiding her teary glance to his.

His eyes slipped from the grip of her eyes to her lips in a second.

She grew self-conscious all over again. He watched his possession with subtle interest, taking his time in enjoying the quiver of her full lips.

In the moment of bewilderment and growing self-awareness, her tongue unconsciously wiped her lips wet, the simple act bursting his thinning control as his mouth descended on her lips with hunger.

He took her gently, stroking her lips tenderly, trying different angles, faltering any attempt to get away by tightening his hold on her neck. Giving her a moment in between to breathe, enjoying her feeble struggles bit by bit.

And just when he thought it wasn't enough, he picked her up effortlessly, ignoring her shocked gasp before throwing her onto the bed.