What was he talking about

Ella's POV

“Good evening, Mrs. Morris.”

That was the first thing I heard when I opened my eyes.

Confused, I sat up, trying to make sense of what was going on. “Who are you? And why did you just call me Mrs. Morris?” I asked.

The lady said nothing. She just looked at me.

“Your husband wants you ready before he gets back,” she added.

“Husband? What are you talking about? I don't have a husband,” I said. Still, she stayed quiet, placing a set of red lingerie on the bed.

Angry now, I stood up and planted myself in front of her. “I demand an answer. Have I been kidnapped? Did you kidnap me?”

Nothing. She just stared, silent, like my words didn't even reach her.

“Talk to me!” I grabbed her by the collar and shook her.

“I'm done here. You're to wear this before your husband comes back,” she said flatly, and walked out.

“Who the fuck is my husband?!” I screamed after her, watching the door click shut in my face.

Confused, I went to the window. The city outside looked foreign. “This isn't my house,” I muttered. “This isn't even my coun—” I paused.

A diamond ring caught the light on my left finger, and my breath caught. I was married. But to whom?

“How did I get here?” I whispered, pressing my palm to my forehead, trying to claw the last memory back. And then it hit me. “Daisy drugged me.”

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “She can't have done that. My sister wouldn't hurt me. I was supposed to be with Michael. Right? What happened? What did she put in my drink?”

I held my head, forcing the pieces together, and when they finally clicked into place, my legs gave out from under me. I slid to the floor.

Daisy betrayed me. She took me away from Michael.

I sobbed, wiping my nose with the back of my hand, tears running hot down my face. “But if I'm not married to Michael… then who is my husband?”

The door clicked open, and a man stepped in. A gun in his hand. His shirt was stained dark with blood.

I gasped, scrambling back. “Who—who are you?”

He looked at me for a long moment. Said nothing. Then walked past me toward the bathroom.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

That face. I'd seen it before… but where?

I pulled my knees to my chest, shaking, as the sound of running water filled the silence. Then it stopped, and he came out.

“Why are you not dressed yet?” His voice was thick, so low that it sent a chill straight through me.

I didn't answer because I didn't know what to say.

“I'm talking to you.” His voice came louder now.

I flinched. “Get away from me.”

My words meant nothing to him. He crossed the room, pulled me to my feet like I weighed nothing. “Why aren't you changed?” His eyes moved over me slowly.

“Who are you?” I asked again, and he threw me onto the bed.

“I'll be back, and I want you ready,” he said, and walked out.

I sat there shaking, crying, whimpering into my own hands until the door opened again.

His eyes were cold. “I told you to get dressed before I came back.” He stepped closer, so I pulled away. “Don't come near me,” I said, already moving for the door, but he caught my wrist and yanked me back against him.

“Where do you think you're going?” His voice was a whisper right against my ear.

“Please, let me go.” I struggled, but he didn't loosen his grip. He was too strong.

“You're mine now, Ella.” He said my name, and I went numb. He knew my name.

“You'll go in there and wear what was given to you,” he said, lifting me, still frozen. “Let's finish what we started,” he whispered against my ear as he carried me to the bathroom and threw the red lingerie set at me.

“One minute,” he said, and slammed the door hard.

What was he talking about?