“Ah-ah, madam, you’re staying right where you are. You’re going to lie down and take it easy today. Your body went through a lot yesterday, so rest,” I say, stopping her and gently butfirmly pushing her back into bed. She gasps briefly, shoots me a withering glance, but gives in. Thank whatever it is.
“Then bring me my phone. I need to see if everything is okay,” she continues to complain, and I roll my eyes as I hand her the phone. She immediately tries to call Amelia, but it goes straight to voicemail. Worried and frustrated, she throws it onto the bedspread, and her death stare meets mine again.
“And don’t talk about her like that. You don’t know her, and you’ll soon realize what a great person she is,” my sister grumbles at me and I mockingly raise my hands in appeasement. Because I doubt that I will ever completely change my mind about Goldilocks.
Although Lizzy’s exaggerated concern is starting to irritate me a bit.
“I don’t think so, but I’m happy to let you believe that. And now get some more sleep. Your body needs it,” I reply curtly, and she sticks her tongue out at me but then obediently lies back down, soon falling asleep again.
Lost in thought, I sit on my couch and stare out the window. The weight of what lies ahead makes the heaviness and sadness return. They tug at me again. The anger over this injustice simmers deep inside me, growing stronger and stronger, but for now, I can keep it at bay.
My brother shouldn’t be dead. And I shouldn’t have to marry this impossible woman. Yet I can’t change either of those things.
Game over.My time is up.
As I enter the newly furnished apartment that has been set up for me and my future wife, my stomach twists uncomfortably. I can only half-listen to the lecture my father is giving me.
“…you absolutely must… it’s important…” For a moment, my father’s monotonous voice breaks through to me, but I quickly tune out again. Apparently, it’s not enough that we’ll be meeting in the study soon to discuss the details of the next steps and the wedding date.
I feel like I’m going to puke. Really.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a movement and turn to see Amelia slowly and stiffly making her way through our new living room. Her brother is right behind her. He says something, and when she doesn’t react immediately, he grabs her by the upper arm, making her flinch. I narrow my eyes and scrutinize the two of them more closely.
Goldilocks looks tired, and even her carefully applied makeup can’t hide the deep circles under her eyes. Her clothing is once again plain, a navy-blue pantsuit with a white blouse, and her hair is pulled back into that tight bun again.
Shit, that looks painful.
Amelia with her wild, loose curls appears in my mind, and I wish I could reach into her hair to remove the pins she’s used to secure it.
“Nicolas, are you even listening to me?” My father’s hard, accusatory voice breaks through to me.
Oops.
“Sorry, I was just thinking, Father. What did you say?” I look at him with a smirk, and he exhales deeply.
“Nothing. We’ll meet in my study in ten minutes. Behave yourself.” With those words, he motions for Henry to accompany him and leaves me standing there. Alone with my future wife.
Silently, I lean against the doorframe and continue watching as she carries her things, brought in earlier by one of our butlers, into the adjoining bedroom. She moves strangely, always careful not to make any sudden movements, but what’s even morepeculiar is that she avoids my gaze and completely ignores my presence. Which, unfortunately, does nothing to improve my mood.
Her dismissive demeanor makes me aggressive, reigniting that dark, cold anger inside me.
“So quiet today, Goldilocks? What’s wrong? Nothing to say about your little stunt yesterday?” I taunt from where I stand, but except for a slight flinch at the mention of her outing, she doesn’t react. And that seriously pisses me off.
Amelia turns her back to me and slowly walks into our bedroom again.
Damn it. Why the hell is this getting under my skin so much?
Before I even realize it, I’m quietly following her.
She stands by the massive window, staring absentmindedly outside. Which infuriates me even more. It drives me insane. Where did that little spitfire go?
I stop right behind her, feeling the warmth of her body, remembering how it felt pressed against mine, and my cock stirs eagerly in my pants.
Fuck.
She smells like lavender and vanilla, and I have to fight the urge not to rip those damn pins from her hair and bury my nose in her curls.
I’m seriously beyond saving.
