Page 5 of Crystal Iris #1

The positive side of all the commotion: the library is empty. I sit down to read about jewelry design when something in the book grips my curiosity: Diamonds are better at dispersing light than glass due to their higher reflective index.

I make sure I’m completely alone before pulling my prism out from underneath my shirt.

Could this actually be a diamond, or is it a crystal?

I recently learned the difference between the two—diamonds are harder and have more facets and cuts.

I put it away quickly as I hear someone walking by.

I glance at my phone. I have to be dolled up in two hours.

“So, you’re the future Mrs. Dawson?” an elegant, middle-aged woman named Carmen asks me.

“Yes, lucky me,” I say with a faint smile.

“Lucky indeed. The deal with FundsForge Aaron closed today… Well, let’s just say blood could be spilled for it,” she adds, eyeing Aaron.

He looks handsome in his suit, his dirty blond hair perfectly styled.

Yet he’s different from the boy I used to hang out with in my bedroom.

He’s obviously taller, stronger… but even the way he stands, he holds himself differently now.

The only reminder of that boy is the grayish-blue of his eyes.

Every time he looks at me, I try to catch a glimpse of our past; I hold on to that as tightly as I can.

I know very little about his business these days; I stopped being interested long ago.

There was a time when we told each other everything, but it started to weigh us down.

I’d hear him complain all day about his deals, and he’d listen to my stories from the classroom all night.

We’d argue, and our relationship would suffer.

We eventually decided to keep work out of the bedroom, then out of the dining room, and before I knew it, work was out of all our conversations.

And with work being the main thing in our lives, once we stopped sharing it, we grew apart, too.

Carmen is still standing next to me, now talking to another executive, when a familiar voice catches my attention.

“How are you holding up?” Lara asks. She’s wearing a gray suit like most of the men, except her heels and jewelry make her stand out. She could easily pass for a model.

I shake my head, a little confused.

“These events can be a little… toxic,” she explains.

I laugh. I like Lara; she’s not like the others.

I remember Aaron’s words: “Lara can be different; she doesn’t have to work to be rich.

She doesn’t take anything seriously because she can afford to.

” Whatever her reasons are, I don’t care.

She’s the only one I can talk to at events like this.

She orders me another drink, even though the one in my hand is still full.

I know better than to drink in a place like this, but Lara’s husband, Ted, on the other hand, didn’t get the memo.

“You seem very comfortable among them,” I tell her.

“Well… I am,” she says with a smile before someone comes to pull her away.

I’m looking for the balcony when Aaron comes to find me.

“Already in need of fresh air?” He knows I breathe better outdoors. I’m about to apologize when he says, “I hate how they all look at you, like you’re a piece of meat to be devoured.” He gestures toward a group of men.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re telling me you haven’t noticed them looking at you?” His face can’t hide his feelings.

I roll my eyes. “You must be out of your mind… If they’re looking, it ’s because they know I’m your fiancée, and I heard the deal you made today is worth a bit of gossip.”

I can feel his anger—not at me, never at me, but at any other man near me. The jealousy has always been a problem, even if I didn’t want to admit it.

“Thanks for coming,” he says on our way home.

“Of course. I guess I have to get used to these things now,” I say more to myself than to him.

“I will never force you to go, Iris.” Is it love I see in his eyes? Or pity?

“I know, I mean… I’m going to be your wife; it will be my… duty?” I try to smile, hoping my words don’t sound as bitter as they feel.

He grabs my hand and caresses the ring. “No duty. But I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

I know he means it. And that hurts even more.

I want to stop Aaron but I hold the urge.

I have been avoiding him for a while now.

I decide to embrace the distraction. I move closer and kiss him back.

I let him feel my body, his light fingers brushing my arm, drawing circles on my back.

He touches me with muscle memory. I feel him ready against me and I kiss him harder.

We move like a pair of dancers in bed, knowing exactly when to turn, with which pace to proceed.

That’s how long we have been together. There is nothing rough about the way he loves me; he’s always the perfect gentleman.

Always making sure I climax before releasing himself, never knowing the difference when I actually do or when I fake it.