The Unwanted Marriage: Chapter 13

I lean back against my car and stare up at Faye’s house, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. She and I have attended this gala together for the last three years, but I’ve never once picked her up myself. I’ve always sent a driver and done all I could to keep some distance between us, convinced I was doing both of us a favor.

Some pleasantries when I see her in the crowd, one single mandatory dance, and then I ask her if she’d like to go home before escorting her out. That’s the script we’ve both adhered to for the last three years, but tonight will be different. From now on, everything will be different.

While I was away, I kept wondering what would have happened if I’d paid her more attention. Would she still have ended up with Eric? Or would these few months leading up to our wedding have been different — filled with anticipation instead of trepidation? I can’t change the past, but I can do better going forward. It’ll never be enough, but she still deserves my best.

I pause by the front door, feeing oddly conflicted. Sixteen years of being engaged to her, and I’ve never been here before. I have no idea what lies beyond this door, and I’ve never wanted to know. I’ve never let myself wonder, never let myself ask more of her than I should — not before I have to.

The door opens moments after I ring the bell, and Faye appears. “Fuck,” I mutter, my eyes roaming over her. She looks… devastatingly beautiful. She’s a vision in blue, and the way that dress clings to her body is positively sinful. How am I supposed to maintain my sanity for an entire night when she looks like that?

“Dion,” she says, her eyes widening in shock for a fraction of a second, before the despondency I’ve become used to replaces it. It’s odd, but somehow, I want more. More of a reaction, more light in her eyes, more words out of those pretty lips. More of her. Now that I know about the fire she keeps hidden deep within, nothing less will do. Before the night is over, I’ll make those beautiful blue irises spit fire.

“Ready?” I ask, offering her my arm. She nods, her gaze downcast as her arm slips through mine. Even with the heels that are clicking against the ground, she’s still so incredibly tiny, and having her on my arm elicits a feeling I’ve never felt before. It’s protectiveness laced with tenderness.

I hold the door open for her, and she nods at me in appreciation, her attitude as distant as it’s always been. It never bothered me before. Hell, I’m not sure I ever noticed it. I’ve always been so busy running away from her, I failed to notice that she’s never once taken a single step toward me.

She’s quiet as I get in the car, her posture subdued. I thought she might ask me why I picked her up myself, or at the very least, I expected her to ask how my trip was. She doesn’t. How come I never realized that she never initiates a conversation between us?

I twist toward her, taking her in. “Faye,” I murmur. She looks up, a hint of caution in her demeanor. “Did you miss me?”

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, I see panic in them as she tries to decide how to respond. Her expression is carefully blank, but those eyes. Oh those fucking eyes.

“I’ll take that as a no,” I tell her, chuckling.

She exhales, seemingly in relief. It was such a simple question, yet she seemed genuinely worried about getting the answer wrong. Do I truly scare her that much? I’d meant to joke around with her a little, but maybe I shouldn’t have.

“Fine,” I murmur. “Tell me that you’ve been good for me, then.” This time, I’m not joking. I need to know she hasn’t spoken to him. I shouldn’t care as much as I do, but fuck, I can’t bear the thought of her going behind my back, of him on the phone with her all night.

“Yes,” she tells me, her mask cracking. “I’ve been a good girl for you, Dion.”

Fuck. I know what she meant, but her words bring an entirely different image to mind. I clear my throat and try my best to drag my eyes off her, but instead I find myself staring at her lips. My good girl. My future wife. I can’t wait to have her. She’s so fucking small… can she even take me?

“Dion?”

I snap out of it and straighten in my seat, praying she can’t tell how hard my cock is in this goddamn tight tux I’m wearing. I’ve never even kissed her, and she’s already got me fucked up over her. What changed? For years, I never thought of her that way, yet now I can’t stop wanting her.

“We’ll enter the venue through a different entrance to avoid the paparazzi,” I tell her as I start the car. “They’re rather eager for shots of my siblings and me tonight.”

My eyes drift toward hers, only to find her looking at me with an expression I can’t read. I’ve never been curious about what goes on behind those beautiful eyes of hers, but I am now. She merely nods at me and looks away, both of us falling silent.

Normally I would’ve been grateful for it, but tonight the silence speaks volumes. There’s nothing for us to say, nor do we know each other well enough to have a meaningful conversation. She’s just a stranger that’ll soon take my name, and I only have myself to blame for it.

The gala is in full swing by the time we walk in, yet I notice several men stopping mid-conversation, their eyes roaming over my fiancée. I grit my teeth and grab her hand, entwining our fingers. She stares up at me in surprise, and I suddenly realize I’ve never held her hand before. It feels so fucking tiny in mine, and nothing has ever felt more right.

“Did you forget?” I murmur, taking a step closer to her, until my body brushes against hers.

“Forget?” she repeats, a cute frown on her face. “What did I forget?”

“That I’m yours.” I lift our joined hands to my lips and kiss the back of her hand. “If you don’t hold my hand, I might get lost in the crowd. Then what?”

Her lips tug up at the edges, as though she’s trying her best to suppress a smile. “Dion, you’re a giant. You’re at least six-foot-three. I’m relatively certain you can look over everyone’s head. I think you’ll be fine.”

I pull her onto the dance floor and shake my head. “No, I don’t think I’ll be fine without you.”

Faye’s eyes widen, and she stares up at me with something that looks an awful lot like interest. I never realized my own fiancée has never looked at me the way other women do. This is a first.

“Dance with me,” I murmur, before pulling her against me. Her arms instantly wrap around my neck, as they always do, but this time, that’s not enough for me. I pull her closer, my palms roaming over her lower back possessively, and she gasps, her eyes finding mine.

What I see in them takes my fucking breath away. There’s something akin to desire dancing in her beautiful blue irises, and for the life of me, I can’t look away. I pull her closer still, until her body is flush against mine, and she tilts her head, sending me a questioning look. “You look utterly captivating tonight, Faye,” I say without thinking.

Her eyes widen a fraction, and then she smiles. Fuck me. I pause in the middle of our dance, losing my train of thought, my mind overwhelmed with the vision she’s presenting me with. “Dion?” she asks, her voice soft.

“I think that might be the first time I’ve ever seen you smile, you know? A real smile, not the ones you usually wear in my presence.”

Her cheeks rapidly turn rosy, and all it does is make her more enticing. I stare at her, savoring this new version of her. So this is what she looks like the moment her perfect mask cracks. Enchanting. “What can I say to make you do that again?”

She laughs then, and I’m not sure what surprises me most, the way she becomes even more beautiful than she was before, or the way the sound warms my icy heart. “You want to… make me smile?”

We resume our dance, and I find myself smiling back at her. This evening just took an entirely unexpected turn. “Well, that’s what I meant, yes, but you’ve just given me a better challenge. I think I might need to hear you laugh for me again. In fact, I dare say that my enjoyment of this evening greatly depends on it.”

She laughs again, and her head falls back a little. Fucking gorgeous, and so unlike the woman I thought she was. There’s nothing doll-like about her in this moment. No, she’s very real, and she’s mine.

The song ends, but instead of leading her off the dance floor, I keep her pressed against me, not ready to let her go just yet. I’m not supposed to enjoy her, I don’t deserve to, but fuck, I don’t think I can walk away. Not right now. Not when she’s looking at me like she doesn’t despise every fiber of my being.

“Another dance?” she asks, her tone conveying her intrigue. “You don’t have an escape plan ready tonight?”

My lips twitch, and I just about manage to hide my surprise. I didn’t think she’d call me out on my past behavior, and I’m pleasantly surprised that she did. “No,” I admit. “I’m all out of excuses, and we’re both out of time. Before the year is over, you’ll be my wife. There’s no avoiding this, not anymore.”

Her smile melts away then, and she averts her gaze. “I know,” she murmurs, and her less-than-eager tone brings an ache to my chest. Perhaps she truly has enchanted me tonight, because I find myself wanting things I swore I’d never even dream of. Things I’ll never deserve.

My hand roams over her lower back, and she melts against me as a slow ballad begins to play. “That question you asked over the phone,” I murmur, my hand slowly making its way up, until the tips of my fingers are pressing into her nape. “What prompted it?”

Some of her relaxedness fades away, and so does that smile of hers. She averts her gaze, and I pull her closer still, until her body is flush against mine, the two of us coming to a standstill on the dance floor. “Answer me.” My tone is rough despite its pleading tilt, a hint of desperation making its way into it.

“Make me a promise?” she murmurs, her beautiful blue eyes filling with equal parts hope and fear, as though she wants to put her faith in me but doesn’t dare to. She’s giving me a chance, but for what, I’m not sure.

“Anything,” I whisper, taking a leap of faith.

Her body relaxes against mine, and she draws a shaky breath. “Promise me you won’t be angry when I give you my answer, and that you won’t punish me for intruding on your privacy. I know that our marriage isn’t real, and I wouldn’t…”

“Tell me,” I demand. “I won’t be mad at you, baby. Just tell me what prompted that question.”

She looks hesitant, but her arms tighten around my neck in a needy way that I absolutely adore. “I asked because of those photos of Maria and you at the beach. The ones that The Herald posted. You told me you were going back to London for work, and then you were photographed half-naked with your secretary on a beach in Spain, and I just wasn’t sure what to think.” Pure helplessness and resignation flashes through her eyes, and she averts her face, hiding herself even though she’s in my arms. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have asked. It’s clear that… that you didn’t want me to know. I can turn a blind eye, Dion. Of course I can. I’d always expected that I’d have to.”

“Please look at me,” I murmur.

Her entire body is tense as she faces me, and my stomach fucking drops at the sight of her despair. She looks so hopeless, so hurt, and it’s all my fault. Is this the look she wore throughout her teens, each time I was photographed with someone else?

I inhale shakily as I look into her eyes. “Faye, I know this may be hard to believe, but I was there to facilitate a joint acquisition between Sierra and Zane. Sierra is buying the grounds the hotel I was visiting is built on, while Zane is acquiring the hotel itself. I may have been in my swim wear, but it was only because the CEO demanded that we complete our negotiations while spending a day at the beach, having lunch and using all the facilities. I haven’t seen the photos, but I can assure you it isn’t what it looked like. From the moment I told you I was yours, I truly have been. I always will be.”

She looks at me as though she wants to believe me but can’t, and it kills me to know that I’ve caused her pain. It feels like I can never do right by her, no matter how hard I try. It’s like we’re simply ill-fated, and each step I take towards her only ends up harming her. Sierra once told me that making Faye happy could be the absolution I seek, but how?

I know how to provoke her into revealing the parts of herself she keeps hidden, and though the steps have been incremental, we’re closer now than we ever have been before, but it isn’t enough. Keeping her away from Eric isn’t the same as truly making her mine. How do I make the woman in my arms happy when I’m not even sure what real happiness feels like?