AMELIA

I watched with a blank expression as a nervous-looking man with a doctor's briefcase walked into the bedroom.

Getting into the bedroom wasn’t an easy feat, it took Trenton convincing Roman he didn’t have to throw me over his shoulder…the fucking psycho. For a man who claimed to be my husband, he sure acted like I was his lifelong nemesis. I was seated at the edge of the bed while being questioned.

“What is the last thing you remember?” The nervous man said, Dr. Britton, he called himself and I wondered if I was supposed to remember him too.

“I got expelled, I ran away from home, now I’m here,” I said, leaving out the part where I eagerly wanted a truck to hit me intentionally.

Roman's brooding expression darkened even further as I spoke and Trenton’s was filled with worry.

Dr. Britton nodded with an understanding gaze, checked my eyes, my mobility, asked about my headache and stomach ache, what I ate last—which I didn’t remember—shocker.

After what seemed to be hours but only minutes, he heaved a sigh and took a few steps away from the bed, turning around to face Roman and Trenton.

“We can’t be certain but it seems Mrs. Wellington is having an adverse reaction to food poisoning,” He began, clearing his throat when he muttered the last word.

My eyes widened, I looked at Roman and then back at the doctor. “Are you saying I’ve been poisoned?” I couldn’t help the dread that seeped into my tone.

Dr. Britton coughed and looked away, “For now I can not be certain of that until we run proper tests tomorrow, what I am certain of is that your pain seems to have triggered your memory loss,” Britton said, unable to meet my eyes like he feared me.

“How can food poisoning cause amnesia?” Roman asked gruffly, looking more displeased by the situation as the seconds passed.

“I can’t know for certain until I bring the proper tools and run the tests…Mr. Wellington and her memories might as well return by morning,” Britton tried to reassure the brooding man in front of him.

Roman's lips twisted and then parted like he intended to ask another question.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Britton,” Trenton quickly said, his kind eyes meeting mine for a moment before he ushered the doctor out of the bedroom.

And we were left alone.

“Uh…so how does this work?”

His brows furrowed and he finally met my eyes, that compelling blue gaze making me momentarily forget my thoughts.

“How does what work?” he practically growled out, seeming irritated by the fact that was speaking to him.

Rude.

“Our sleeping arrangements,” I gestured at the bedroom, “I don’t know about you but it’s been a long night, I got expelled and married on the same day,” I muttered while scratching my chin. I was still finding it quite hard to wrap my head around.

He seemed dazed like he couldn’t find the words to say. Then his lips thinned and his frown deepened.

“This is our bedroom,” he said with an obvious look. His discontent was obvious.

“Not anymore,” I interjected with a nervous chuckle.

“Excuse me?” Roman said darkly, his eyes narrowed into slits.

“You’re excused,” I grinned, “Thanks for understanding, I can’t sleep on a bed with a man I do not know, so…” I trailed off when I noticed the anger that seemed to be brewing in his blue depths.

Did I read him wrong?

“I will not be leaving my bedroom for you!” Roman declared.

“Our bedroom,” I corrected with a cough, “Please?” I added with a small smile, hoping I could soften the iceberg a bit.

He didn’t budge, I heard his teeth gritting as he worked his jaw, seemingly considering my words.

There’s no way in hell I’m sharing a bed with a man I just met, no matter how hot he is!

He mumbled something under his breath. Another Russian curse, I realized.

Is he Russian or something?

Then he stomped forward, walking into what seemed to be a closet and coming out with a heap of clothing in his hands.

“This doesn’t change anything, Amelia, you will be attending my father’s 60th birthday party tomorrow, so you better remember everything by morning!” he said in a cold voice that left no room for argument and sent chills down my spine.

I swallowed thickly. The hatred in his eyes made me squirm. Still, I found myself forcing a grin.

“I'll try my best!” I joked, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.

I will not show just how afraid I am to a stranger!

My words only seemed to infuriate him further as he opened the bedroom door and slammed it close so hard that I felt the wind in my face and pressure in my ears.

My head began to ache again.

I slowly sank into the soft mattress and my lids became heavy.

Maybe. If I sleep…

The more I thought about it, the easier I let the comfort of slumber embrace me. Everything else is forgotten.

Until the sound of a shrill alarm had my eyes snapping open and had me lurching off the bed.

It was a rather confusing morning, I had to find the bathroom while trying to accept my situation.

I didn’t remember a thing.

My hair was waist-length, my skin was paler. There was no sensible outfit in the closet and a few times I contemplated wearing some of Roman’s but quickly decided against it. The man hated me, I had no clue why but I won’t it bother me.

I picked the only shorts I could find and threw on a camisole after my bath. Then I left the bedroom and headed downstairs. I could still remember the way to the living room.

The magnificent mansion was unlike anywhere I’d ever been in. There was a busy sound around the house, I ran into two young women in maid uniforms who showed me the way to the kitchen.

They called me Mrs. Wellington.

When I entered the dining room that was right next to the kitchen, Roman sat at the head of the table, eating his food with that permanent, angry expression on his face. He was looking down at his laptop sternly, some papers beside him, and then his food on the other side.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling too nervous to approach.

Then he noticed my presence and his shoulders visibly stiffened as he raised his head to meet my gaze.

I forced a smile and that dampened his mood.

“You still don’t remember,” he said, annoyed by the fact. He pushed the papers closer to the seat next to him.

“That doesn’t matter, you have to sign them,”

The divorce papers, I realized.

“Was I such a terrible wife?” I teased, “You’re so eager to divorce me,” I raised a brow as I sat down and held the papers, reading through them.

With a low growl, he slammed his laptop shut making me flinch from the sudden sound. When I turned, his eyes blazed with fury.

“You think this is a fucking joke, Amelia?!”

I gasped, not expecting the harshness in his tone to cut so deeply.

“You dragged me into this fucking lifeless marriage that I want no part of, you ruined my life! My future!” he slammed a fist down on the table, his voice getting louder, “ You forced your stupid hollow affections on me and I hate the fucking sight of you, I hate every word that leaves those ugly lips so yes, you were a fucking bad wife, you are!” he yelled angrily, looking almost overwhelmed by the intense hate he felt.

Is he…going to hit me?

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t move or breathe.

“I don’t give a fuck if you don’t remember anything, you will sign those fucking papers and free me from this torture!”

Was I such a bad person?

Did I truly drag him into this marriage?

Did I force my affections on this man?

I let out a shaky breath, watching him breathe heavily as his crazed eyes met mine.

I had no words.

None.

“Tonight, we will meet mine and your family,” he said, each word said through gritted teeth, “You better behave your fucking self in front of everyone, Amelia or God help me…” He leaned down and gripped my wrist so tight that I yelped out in pain, the burning sensation caused my eyes to water.

“…your amnesia will be the least of your worries!” He finished with a snarl.

Right there and then I knew, his threat wasn’t empty. He would destroy me if I crossed him. The rude bastard!

How…how did I get myself into this mess?