Page 31 of Malicious Marriage
Never have I met someone so cautious over their curiosity. It’s nice, for a change.
“Do you remember the fire I mentioned that killed my siblings?”
She nods. It’s a well-circulated rumor.
“I was there.” Clover trembles briefly beneath my caring touch. “I was only fourteen when it happened. My sister had snuck out to a party and my older brother was picking her up. I was supposed to stay in the car because it was late, but I’d caught him sneaking out and demanded he take me for fast food or I’d tell.” The memory makes me smile slightly. “We pulled up to the building and parked, texted her to come out, and waited. But she didn’t. And then we saw the smoke.”
My brows pinch while tenderly applying the last of the balm to Clover’s arm.
“He didn’t even stop and think before he ran in. He was going to get her out and that was that. But the fire got worse and thesmoke got thicker, and neither of them came out. I didn’t know what to do so I called Dad and then made the dumb decision to go in and get them. By then, the fire had consumed over forty percent of the building and there was no hope for anyone, least of all me. A roof beam came down on me and I thought it was over. I woke up in hospital two days later with third-degree burns all over my arms and torso, and my siblings were dead.”
“Oh, my God.” Clover grasps my arm with her free hand and our eyes meet. “I’m so sorry, that’sawful.”
“It was a long time ago,” I say as if the pain doesn’t remain at the same level deep within my soul every time I look at myself in the mirror. “So you see, I know better than anyone when they start talking about the terrible person my brother was, as if he caused the fire to cover up something terrible. I know he didn’t start it. But who listens to a fourteen-year-old kid?”
Finished with the balm, I swiftly wrap Clover’s arm in gauze just to protect the oil and allow it to soak deep into her skin rather than getting absorbed by her sleeve. But I don’t step away. Clover’s hand lingers on my arm with her attention down on the burns she can see. She’s careful not to touch but the longer I watch her, the more I’m sure I won’t mind if she does.
Breathing in, the soft scent of her shampoo cuts through the sharp, medicinal stink of the balm, so I focus on it until she turns her wide eyes up to me.
A sudden, strong urge rushes over me to touch her face. Just a single caress of her rosy cheek to see a warm smile bloom across those plush, swollen lips. I hold myself back. It’s hardly appropriate, but the urge doesn’t die down. If anything, it gets stronger when she briefly curls her lower lip into her mouth and sighs softly.
“I don’t think you should hide your scars,” she says. Her lip glistens with lingering saliva.
My throat runs dry as I shake my head. “I don’t hide them, not in the way you think. I prefer not to be questioned and I’ve spent a long time trying to break the association of my family with that fire. My scars are a beacon to that story so I keep them covered for my own peace of mind.”
“That’s fair,” she murmurs, blinking slowly. Then her eyes flick down my face and warmth rushes across my cheeks as she glances at my lips.
Is she thinking the same thing? Does she feel the energy building toward us? Is she fighting the same urge I am, to lean forward and claim a kiss just to alleviate some of this alarming tension built from soft touches and closeness?
“Dean…” She starts to speak and her lips remain open, but no other words come. Something holds her back, and I’m not going to press since I’ve just bared my soul.
“Speaking of keeping them covered, I’m throwing a party this weekend. You might have heard about it. It’s a gala for the Housing Hounds charity? I’m raising money for their shelters and so I have to face the usual song and dance about how I’m only doing it for good karma and not because I’m passionate about animals.”
Clover’s lips finally close as she laughs. “I read about the gala, yes.”
“Come with me.”
Her eyes dart up to me with her brows arched high. “Huh?”
“Come with me. It will be a beautiful evening, and I think it will be the perfect time to present you as my fiancée.”
Her eyes widen further. “I’m sorry, you want to present me?”
“It’s an old tradition, I know. But…” I have to step away, otherwise the constant instinctual urge to kiss those full lips won’t ever fade. Regretfully, I step back from her and focus on tidying up the medical kit as I talk. “If I’m honest, presenting you like this is the only way I can make sure everyone is taking mydecisions seriously. People in my family, my organization, and my utterly psychotic ex.”
“Your ex…” Clover shifts on the counter and adjusts her sleeve. “Is she okay? And your baby?”
My anger toward Trisha quickly erodes my desire for Clover. “Myexis fine because she’s always fine. She wasn’t in any danger and neither was my child. Trapped gas turned life-threatening, it seems.” I can’t tell her the truth, not yet. Clover would surely run for the hills if she knew just how twisted Trisha really is.
“She’s trying to use the baby to get back into my life, and as I’ve mentioned, my advisers think the benefits of our joint family outweigh the personal distress I would feel being near her. To be clear, I will do anything for my child, but her?” The kit snaps closed. “She can rot. So, I want to present you to shut them all up. Slightly selfish on my part, I know.”
“I understand completely,” Clover replies immediately, and she grasps my forearm for support while sliding down from the counter. “I’d be more than happy to, as long as I can invite some people?”
“Of course you can. It will be your night as much as mine. Who do you want to invite?”
“My sister, mainly,” Clover says, busying herself with putting the medical kit back under the sink. Clover turns to face me with a smile on her face that’s almost too bright. “I can’t wait for you to meet her!”
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