The Unwanted Marriage: Chapter 17

I can barely focus on Luca and Val as they walk onto our private jet, shocked to find us all here. Grandma meant to surprise them, and I have a feeling she doesn’t realize how unwelcome this surprise is.

She knows neither Luca nor Val wants to see her after everything she put them through, yet she forced us all onto this goddamn plane anyway.

My breathing accelerates as the plane pushes away from the gate, and I let my eyes fall closed. I wish I had medication on me, but I stopped taking that years ago. It made me feel too disoriented, and it messed with my short-term memory. Right now though, I wish I had it with me. None of my family members know I can’t stand flying. They don’t even suspect it. Why would they? I voluntarily get on a plane at least once a month, after all.

My body trembles slightly once we reach the runway, and nausea hits me hard. I force myself to breathe. If I let even the tiniest hint of my panic show, it’ll only worry my siblings. I try my hardest to stay calm, telling myself that flying is one of the safest forms of transportation and that the pilot and co-pilot have both been vetted by me personally. Hell, I oversaw all the checks and made them triple check a handful of things. On top of that, Lex is here, and if need be, he can take over and fly this plane.

“Dion.”

I blink and turn my face to find Faye staring at me, a hint of concern in her gaze. She reaches for me, slowly, hesitantly. Her hand brushes against mine, and I instinctively entwine our fingers, holding onto her tightly.

She stares at me, her eyes filled with understanding and compassion. Faye doesn’t ask questions — she never does. She just squeezes my hand tightly, and I twist my torso, turning toward her in our luxury leather seats.

“Faye,” I murmur, my tone pleading, yet I’m uncertain what I’m asking for. Perhaps, for once, I don’t want to be alone in my fears. I’m tired, and I want the solace that she doesn’t even realize she’s offering me. I sigh and drop my forehead to her shoulder, nearly covering her body with mine as I lean over her. She freezes, and just as I’ve begun to pull away from her again, her arms wrap around me and she hugs me tightly, pulling me closer.

I groan and bury my face against her neck, my lips brushing over her soft skin. She smells so fucking good, and I inhale deeper, eliciting a shiver from her. Coconut. That’s what she smells like. Fucking delicious. I’m near fucking delirious as I press my lips against her pulse-point, focusing on the steady thrumming of her heart. Everything else melts away until there’s only her.

“Better?” she whispers, for my ears only.

I hum noncommittally as turbulence shakes the plane. Her hand threads through my hair, and she holds onto me tightly. She owes me nothing, yet she didn’t think twice before offering me her support, quietly keeping my secrets. I was so certain that I’d despise her for forcing me into a marriage that will only fuel my guilt, but she makes it impossible to do so. I don’t understand why she affects me like no woman ever has. How is she able to calm the chaos in my mind?

She gently massages my head, and I nearly fucking moan. It’s such a simple act, yet it isn’t something any woman but her has ever done for me before. It fills me with an unfamiliar longing. It isn’t just lust. It’s more than that, and it fucking terrifies me.

I drop one hand to her leg and let it slip just underneath the hem of her skirt. The feel of her bare skin sends a jolt straight to my cock. Damn. Faye tenses, but she doesn’t stop massaging my head, and she doesn’t pull my hand away. Has she ever done this for anyone else? I’ve never been particularly possessive, but I fucking hate the thought of her sharing this kind of intimacy with Eric. Does he know what her fingers feel like against his scalp?

It’s been a few weeks since they broke up, and all of a sudden, I need to know if she’s spoken to him since. Twice now, she told me she hasn’t, but will she continue to keep her word?

Initially, it was just my pride that was hurt, but now it’s more. She feels like mine now, and I don’t even want her thoughts straying, let alone any other part of her.

The plane begins to shake again, and I tighten my grip on her leg, placing all of my focus on her. My lips part slightly, and I let my teeth graze against her skin, needing to know if she’ll taste the way she smells. Faye’s breath hitches as the tip of my tongue brushes against her skin, and she squirms in her seat.

I smile against her neck when she squeezes her legs together, trapping my hand in between them. She likes that, huh? I’m pleasantly surprised she’s so sensitive.

I press a soft kiss just below her ear, and she draws a shaky breath, her hands balling into my hair as she grips tightly. “Dion,” she whispers, and I can’t tell if it’s a plea or a warning. I don’t think she’s quite sure herself. I kiss her again, and she withdraws her hands before pushing against my shoulders slightly.

I pull back just enough to look at her, my face hovering over hers. I take in her beautiful rosy cheeks, and that wild look in her eyes. Fuck. I used to think she resembled a porcelain doll — perfect and lifelike, but soulless. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I smirk at her, and she averts her gaze, looking awfully flustered. I think I just developed a new hobby. Making her smile makes me feel fucking high, but that blush? I already can’t wait to make her blush for me like that again. Fucking stunning.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Her eyes snap to mine, and she looks disarmed for a moment. “I… um…” she stammers.

“For distracting me,” I clarify, unable to wipe the smirk off my face. When is the last time I smiled like this? I can’t remember. “It helped, Faye.”

She nods, a hint of shyness in her gaze. She truly is a work of art. How did I never see it before? Was it just because she was too young, or was I blinded by my guilt?

“Dion,” she whispers, and my cock twitches again. I fucking love hearing her say my name. “You really seem to struggle with flying, but don’t you… don’t you fly all the time?”

The smile melts off my face, and I straighten in my seat, turning my head away to look out the window, my hand still on her thigh. “Yeah,” I murmur. “I do.”

“Why?”

Because I deserve to suffer. Because I’m the reason you lost your mother before you ever even had a chance to get to know her. Because I’m the reason my sister won’t get to walk down the aisle on our father’s arm.

“My job requires it,” I tell her, giving her as much honesty as I can bear right now.

Faye places her hand over mine, and for a moment, I’m certain it’s to remove my hand from her leg, but instead, she laces her fingers with mine. Unlike every other woman in my life, she doesn’t demand further answers.

She isn’t what I was expecting, and I’m unsure what to do with that. I dislike things that I can’t understand or predict. I don’t like surprises or deviations in my life, and she’s the biggest one of all.