My husband’s lips twitch. Oh my God, it sounds surreal to even say that in my head, and why does it bring relief to the exhausted parts of me? He sure as hell isn’t my new protection, just another enemy destined to hurt me for his sadistic reasons. “Since when am I a sir?”
Leon lowers his voice to a hush. “Since you got married. Matilda almost had a heart attack from the news, considering how unprepared we were.” He frowns at him and, to my astonishment, lightly slaps his shoulder. “Don’t you ever spring such news on us again, boy.”
“I’m not planning to marry again.”
More goose bumps spread all over me from the news, and I do my best to squash them because they have nothing to do with me. The man probably has an aversion to marriage in general, so why does the idea of him not marrying anyone else again bring me such a thrill?
My insanity needs to be studied and examined because my physical attraction clouds my judgment so much. It’s a good thing I never felt lust.
Although the idea of any other man causes a shiver of revulsion, making this whole situation even worse.
Leon straightens and nods before clearing his throat and announcing, “Tonight, we decided to serve salmon with mashed potatoes and vegetables.” He comes to stand between us and removes the lids from our plates. The sight of the food makes my mouth water. How did they know what I like to eat, or did they just guess? “You’ll have a selection of salads as well. Since Mrs. Wright doesn’t like soup, we removed it from the menu. The desserts will be served after the main course. In the meantime, would you like me to pour you some wine?” Since he's directing this question at me, I shake my head. One glass of champagne was enough. “We’ll be in the kitchen, so please call us if you need anything.” With that, he leaves, adjusting the rose flowers on one of the stands on the way and sighing in wonder as he glances at us.
I think they got the wrong idea with all this marriage business, but it’s not my place to set the record straight.
“They really love you,” I say, grabbing my fork and digging it into the salmon before cutting through it with a knife. “They seem excited about this marriage.”
“It’s natural to be attached to the person you’ve raised. They loved my mother, worshipped the ground she walked on, actually, for everything she’s done for them. What they feel is not love. It’s a sense of loyalty and obligation to the woman who gave them all a home and secured their future.”
Angelica Wright sounds like the kind of woman who should be admired. Too bad she married a cruel, cheating asshole who used all her resources and drained the life out of her.
Chewing on the food, I look at him again and notice that he just picks at the vegetables and doesn’t even touch the fish.
My curiosity can’t be helped, so I ask, “You don’t like seafood?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh.”
So they cooked all this just for me?
“Let me know if Matilda gives you a hard time. She might be overbearing at times.”
Not sure if it’s a trap or a test, I reply, “She means well.” My father taught me that you can’t trust a thing a man says, so maybe he’s acting all nice now to make me lose my guard and find my weak spots to strike should the need arise.
Though this marriage is a very straightforward business deal, one never knows, so I'd better stay guarded.
Or that’s my excuse not to fall for his charms.
“There is a reason people say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
“I always found it interesting that such a proverb exists as if warning people from doing good deeds.” My thoughts on this topic aren’t something anyone would want to hear, so a nervous laugh spills from my lips. “I thought proverbs were supposed to guide people back in the day on how to live properly. To encourage the greater good and sacrifices for society to get to eternal heaven in the afterlife.”
I tense inwardly when he lifts a brow, ready for his scolding or snarky remark that usually follows my opinions at home, but I blink in surprise when he says, “Greater good doesn’t exist. It’s an illusion designed for us to make countless sacrifices that won’t mean shit to anyone, and I guess whoever came up with this proverb knew it.”
All my hesitation forgotten, I frown and lean forward. “Sometimes people do things without expecting anything in return. Not everyone is selfish.”
He clicks his tongue. “That’s where you’re wrong. We are all selfish in some aspects of our lives. And, besides…all our actions are dictated mostly by fear, desire to please, or to chase the happiness that evades us. This makes it easy to manipulate certain people into doing what you want.”
“That’s a very warped way of thinking.” I dig my fork into the salmon again and hum at the taste when the spices hit my tongue. My cheeks heat when his face darkens, and I quickly swallow and drink some water. “It sounds like we have no free will.”
“To an extent, we don’t. Our traumas, instincts, and emotions rule us, and we rarely, if ever, listen to common sense. And when we do, it usually happens after life shows us how foolish we’ve been.” He claps his hands together, and classic jazz music echoes through the dining room. It casts a rather magical yet gloomy spell around us, and I gasp when most of the lights go off. The single chandelier in the room becomes the only source of light, creating an even more intimate atmosphere. Except it’s ruined the minute he speaks up. “I know it’s a hard concept to grasp for you, which is unfortunate.”
I bristle at his condescending tone. Clearly, the asshole from earlier is back. “Contrary to what you believe, I’m not stupid.”
Although for such an accomplished man, I might as well be. Not that it changes anything.
He can go to hell with this way of thinking. I’ve had enough of this bullshit at home.
