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That I’m the fucking villain.
I’m the nightmare in each one of her lies.
“Relax…” I whisper, and hang back for just a moment, letting the hand in hers slide up to the small of her back. One of her arms immediately goes up to the nape of my neck, the other to my chest. “Incline your head to me a hair… that’s it. Now it looks like we’re kissing.”
The women in the elevator squeal in excitement when Sabrina lets out a moan. It’s not from me kissing her, it’s from invading her space, being too close. A shiver shifts through her and I can feel how delicate it is, as though she’s holding it back, keeping it inside for herself. Containing it like she contains everything else from the public eye. I take pride that she can’t hide it from me. Not when I'm this close to her.
The doors to my private elevator close and she shoves me off.
She’s visibly trembling, panting, holding one hand to the soft swell of her stomach, the small pouch there I want to lay my hand on, and feel her womanlyeverything. So soft and feminine, and my heart stops with one look into her glossy eyes.
“I… need a moment,” she breathes, her shaking recedes into nothing but small vibrations. Did I do that? Did I help? My stomach flips at the thought that maybe… maybe I did. Maybe I’m not such an asshole. Maybe I can make it better.
The flip in my stomach turns into a weird pain that crawls and nestles into the bottom corner of my heart when I realize Iwantto be the one that makes it better.
“Sabrina -” I croak.
“I just don’t want them to also think your future wife is… weak.” she says softly and looks away from me before clearing her throat. “I won’t take but a moment. I just… need to prepare. Is that alright?”
I nod.
Sea-green glassy eyes filled with unshed tears of momentary panic crash with mine again. “Will it be louder down there?”
“Much,” I hear myself rasp. I shouldn’t have said that in a decibel where she could hear it. I shouldn’t have said it at all.Becausefor the first time, I can see those invisible demons dancing behind her eyes. I can see her will to fight them is so… sostrong. She wants to run, she wants to leave and never come back.
She takes a shaky breath, her gloved hands smoothing down the front of her black dress. She blinks at the ground, then nods once curtly while exhaling. “Thank God Parker put clear earplugs in my clutch.”
Of course he did.
She opens the tiny thing, fishes one out and then the other, shoving them in while her eyes are closed, then snaps it shut. Her eyes find mine, and soon we’re in the elevator, a foot apart. But when the doors open, her shoulders square back, and her chin is high, and The Smile is back.
I shake my head, not letting myself fixate on whatever is happening in my chest, only focusing on the night ahead.
This event is one I usually take pride in. The money goes to twenty different boxing clubs around all of New York City. I step into the ring and take the microphone to begin my announcements, thanking everyone for purchasing tickets and for their donations. Letting them know their contributions have helped us raise over a hundred and twelve thousand dollars.
Sabrina smiles and claps when appropriate, and soon I'm taking my seat beside her. The first round of ring girls come out in tiny, cupid costumes that are no more than red lingerie and little pink wings. I watch as she averts her gaze down to her hands, and I let my own eyes wander to the way her dress cups her breasts, pushing each swell up into the perfect handful, then back up to the profile of her face.
The ring girl steps out and she finally looks at the entertainment for the evening again.
Why?
Does she not think she’s as beautiful as them?
Her father’s voice from the day he told her she’d been arranged to marry me rings in my head, louder than the roar of the crowd behind us. “You’ve… gained a few pounds…”
Once more, she claps when necessary, grimaces and winces, animated until another ring girl pops through.
And yet my eyes stay on her.
On the way her clavicle closest to me has one little freckle, beckoning me to lean over and kiss it, daring me to seek if she has more beneath her dress. I’m glued to the way her chest slowly rises and falls, her fingers tapping to her thumb, counting. She pulls her phone out andupdates something on her notes app, typing as she gnaws on her lower lip in concentration.
Fuck, the way her lip slowly glides through her teeth, makes me want to take it for myself – to gnaw on it, suck it between my lips and then dive my tongue into her mouth to taster her completely… to devour her. Our only kiss had been when I proposed. It would have lasted longer had I not run my tongue against the seam of her lips, wanting access, desperately wanting entry. It was just that they were so warm, so soft against mine, I forgot for a second that she doesn’t want me.
Will never love me.
“What’s that?” I ask, leaning toward her, taking in what she’s typing down. Ingredients. I scan them, taking note of what she’ll need in our pantry for when she moves in with me in just sixty-one days.
“Chocolate raspberry molten cupcake recipe,” she answers mindlessly, still thumbing through and typing out measurements as if she's baking them in her mind already, finding the perfect amount of everything like she did the ones she brought me.“Well, it’s for a cake but I’m sure I can do it for cupcakes.”