The Unwanted Marriage: Chapter 29

The pleased look in my grandmother’s eyes grates on me, and I level her with an unamused stare. “Grandmother,” I murmur as I walk further into my living room. “To what do I owe this pleasure so soon after the wedding?” She’s barely given us a full day to ourselves. Surely we deserve a reprieve after so perfectly performing our roles in her ridiculous play.

Her eyes linger on my mother’s piano in the corner before she turns to face me. “Does it still sound as beautiful as it used to?” she asks, her voice soft.

I grit my teeth, my stomach churning at the memory of finding Faye seated behind my mother’s piano, entirely clueless about the way each chord she played further destroyed me. She looked so serene, and I didn’t have the power to wrench her away from something that so clearly brought her the kind of happiness I can never give her.

Sending that piano to my house while I was away, knowing Faye would instantly fall in love with it, was a calculated risk and a really low blow. I hate that it worked out in her favor, but what I hate even more is that I can’t figure out her motivations.

Does she aim to torment me by making me face the past I’ve been running from? Or had it been a test to see how I’d respond to Faye crossing a line I’d never let anyone else near? Whatever it was, she gambled and won.

“I don’t appreciate you involving my wife in your schemes,” I murmur. “I refuse to play along like Ares and Luca did.”

She crosses her arms, her expression ice cold. “You married her, didn’t you?”

I freeze, unable to refute her words. “You left me no choice — but your involvement ends here. I won’t have you manipulate my wife.”

Warmth simmers in her eyes, the edges of her lips tipping up into a cryptic smile. “Your wife,” she repeats. “You’re awfully protective of a woman you wanted nothing to do with for years. It seems I worried for nothing.”

She’s mocking me, and there’s not a word I can utter in defense. My jaw ticks, and my annoyance only heightens further when she smiles at me the way she used to when I was younger. As though she knows something I don’t, as though she finds me endearing.

“Grandma Anne?”

I tense at the sound of Faye’s sweet voice and turn to find her walking into the living room, her white dress swaying with every move. It reminds me of the shirt she’d worn yesterday morning, when I’d placed her on top of our kitchen counter.

Faye pauses a few steps away from me, her gaze darting toward me and back to the floor, a gorgeous blush blooming across her cheeks. I bite back a smile, the tension in my body slowly draining away.

“Faye, sweetheart,” Grandma says, grinning at her so genuinely that I do a double-take. It’s been years since I saw my grandmother smile like that. “The house looks beautiful. I can’t believe you decorated it all by yourself. That’s some talent you have there, honey.”

I stand back and watch my wife come out of her shell just a little. She’s been hiding from me all day, and I’ve given her the space she so obviously craves — just like I did last night, when she’d pretended to be asleep. I’m not sure what she was thinking. Did she truly believe I’d touch her when her body was still recovering?

The duality of her is intriguing — when I’ve got her aroused, she becomes an entirely different person, and I suspect that version is far closer to the real her than the shy girl standing in front of me right now, engaging in small talk with my grandmother.

“I’m here today to discuss some of your new responsibilities and the rules you’ll both have to adhere to,” Grandma says, and I shift my focus back to her.

Faye nods, her expression serious. I study her carefully as she tenses and squares her shoulders. It’s intriguing how eager she is to please, and it makes her defiance with Eric all the more infuriating.

“Later today, I’ll send over Lauren, your housekeeper, and Garret, your chauffeur. They’re both excited to meet you,” Grandma tells Faye, and I grimace. Eager to spy on us for her, she means. The way her fingers twitch at her side makes me suspect that Faye realizes it too.

I take in every single change in her expression as she speaks to my grandmother. Every movement, every sigh. Everything about her is so carefully controlled, so calculated. I suppose that’s why I’m so eager to provoke her. Watching her lose her composure is fucking glorious.

I have no doubt she’s as surprised by her responses to me as I am, especially considering she was a virgin before our wedding night. The way she sucked down on my thumb and the startling eagerness when I told her I’d punish her for going anywhere near Eric makes me suspect that what she’s shown me so far is but the tip of the iceberg. I’m starting to suspect that she truly is far more perfect for me than I’d anticipated.

“Considering how long the two of you were engaged, I take it you don’t need me to remind you of the rules?”

Faye shakes her head. “A minimum of three years of a faithful marriage that we’re both giving our best shot, no more than three consecutive days apart throughout that time, and sharing a bedroom,” she summarizes, glossing over the finer details of our contract.

“In that case, all that remains is for me to hand over some of the charities and foundations I’ve been running, starting with the one that’s dearest to me — The Windsor Staccato Foundation.”

I flinch involuntarily, my entire body tensing. Is she fucking with me right now? Grandma looks at me as though she’s daring me to speak up, and when I remain silent, she smiles in victory. “It’s the foundation that my daughter-in-law founded with your mother,” she continues. “Dion keeps it funded, but there is far more that could be done with it. Its aim is to provide free music classes for those who can’t afford it, and to nurture talent when we find it. Both of your mothers firmly believed that access to music was a basic right that should never be withheld from any child, and I suspect you feel the same.”

That foundation was one of the prime reasons I agreed to marry Faye at all, but Grandma knows I want nothing to do with it outside of ensuring its preservation. First the piano, now this. Why is she doing this to me?

I can’t even argue with her, because she’s right. This is a cause Faye will genuinely care about. The foundation would be safe in her hands.

“I won’t let you down,” Faye says, her voice shaking.

Grandma smiles at her reassuringly. “I know you won’t.” It’s odd how grandmotherly she becomes around Faye. I didn’t realize that part of her still existed — I thought it’d died alongside my parents.

I breathe a sigh of relief when she finally walks toward the exit after dominating Faye’s attention for far longer than I should’ve allowed. Each time I see my grandmother, I’m left with a sensation of impending doom. This marriage is complicated enough without her interference.

“Oh, and Faye?” she says as she reaches the door, her tone somewhat dismayed. “Your father called me today. He told me he couldn’t reach you and would like to remind you of your concert next week.”

My wife flinches, and I frown. Something about her reaction registers as being decidedly off. I thought she loved being a concert pianist. Is there something I’m missing?

The door falls closed, and Faye stares at it absentmindedly. “You don’t have to work if you don’t want to, you know?” I murmur. “If you don’t enjoy the concerts, or if you just need a break, that’s fine. You’re a Windsor now, Faye. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She turns to look at me, and a thrill runs down my spine. I doubt she realizes that this is the first time she’s properly looked me in the eye all day. “I’d be nothing without the piano,” she murmurs, her eyes oddly vacant. “Please don’t take that away from me.”

I frown and close the distance between us. “I don’t have the power to take anything away from you, angel. I’m your husband, not your warden.”

She looks at me and nods, but the distrust and fear in her eyes don’t diminish. I’m not entirely sure what I’ve done to earn it, nor do I know how to undo it.