The Sinfully Wedded

Chapter 11

Sinn's POV...

I've been standing outside her door for five minutes. Since I've been here, there wasn't any movement coming from the other side of it. She hasn't made a single sound, didn't even respond to my message. 

I raised my hand and tapped my knuckles against the door, my wedding band lightly hitting the wood. I twisted it around my finger while waiting for her to come to open it, quickly becoming annoyed when about a minute passed and there was still no answer. 

Grinding my teeth together, I contemplated just leaving and coming back when the jet would be here and she had no choice but to come out. After quickly realizing that I couldn't stand not looking at her face a moment longer, I  threw the door open. 

A part of me thought she was in the shower, the other assumed she jumped out of the window and ran away. The second one was more likely to happen considering how she tends to be. 

Instead, she was in bed, huddled up in a fetal position with her back facing me. I came up behind her and looked down at her face which was mostly covered by her long, black hair. I couldn't beat the urge to reach out and brush it out of her face. 

What laid beneath made me shake in anger. Not at her, but myself. 

There were dried-up tears on her face, it was evident from the mascara smeared under her eyes and the puffy redness on her cheeks from her rubbing them away. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to refrain from lifting her into my arms and comforting her to make all of the pain I knowingly inflicted go away. 

After putting the few things she'd taken out back into her suitcase and zipping it up, I took it outside and gave it to the driver who put it in the trunk beside mine. Leaving won't make her feel any better, she'll think the trip's being cut short because of what happened earlier. Even though it wasn't true, I wasn't going to tell her it was really for work.

She's better off hating me. 

I don't want her answering my every beck and call, I don't want her connecting with me and thinking there's going to be a happy ending to this because there won't be. I'm not going to allow her to go with this false narrative that we're going to be different from others, we're not. 

It'll never work. She's too chirpy, too happy, too loud and it irritates me so fucking much. I can't deal with her. We're on complete opposite sides of this invisible spectrum. She allows herself to look at life as a bunch of sunshine and rainbows while I look at it realistically, logically.  

I let her believe in this fairytale for the past little while because she was dragging me into this fantasy with her. I've woken up and realized the truth and I knew the only way she would as well was if I gave her the reality check she needed. 

But when I pushed the blanket off of her body and threw a hoodie as well as sweatpants on top of her bikini before lifting her up and feeling how her limbs automatically wrapped around me, I can't help how right it feels to me.

Though, the feeling didn't last long. I had to pretend they didn't exist on the outside to protect her. But no one said anything about basking in my feelings on the inside. I could live in it for as long as I wanted in my head, no one would know. 

It wouldn't do any harm to her if I could manage to keep it to myself, right?

She was like a fragile glass in my arms as I walked out of the room with her, one arm respectfully tucked underneath her ass while the other fit around her waist. I remembered the way my father would make fun of her, and say she was all skin and bones.

She isn't. I've watched her, touched her, and I'm holding her right now. She may be on the skinnier side but she's all muscle. It's obvious she's trained, maybe I could keep her busy by getting a few men to take her to the warehouse and continue her training, maybe get her on a few jobs.