“Try to not let it get to your head.” The corners of his lips twitch into that usual Declan smile. A flash of a camera goes off, catching the moment.
His hand touches my covered thigh, barely leaving a dent from the layers of material. “This is wrong,” he mutters.
“You’re right. I feel absolutely scandalized,” I speak in an off-key British accent.
His head shakes as a noise that I interpret as a laugh breaks free from him. “You’re so drunk.”
“No. I’m buzzed.”
“What’s the square root of 64?”
“Eight, fuck you very much.”
He shrugs. “Sober enough.”
“For what?”
He doesn’t reply as he lifts the fabric of my dress ever so carefully so no one catches a glimpse of me down there. My lungs squeeze, trying to take in oxygen as Declan disappears under my gown.
“Remember, no hands!” Cal calls out, and the crowd hoots and hollers. Declan pops a blind arm out and flips his middle finger in Cal’s general direction. A few people laugh while others gasp, probably as shocked as me at Declan’s rare display of feelings.
I tune them all out, focusing on the heightened experience. The scrape of Declan’s stubble against my calf. The brush of his hair on the inside of my thighs as he parts them with his head. The feel of his teeth grazing the skin around the garter, accompanied by the press of his soft lips as he clamps down around the frilly piece of lace.
I shiver, and a vibration of his throat tells me Declan noticed and laughed.
I hate him. I hate my husband so much, he is lucky I don’t choke him with the damn thing once he comes back up for air.
Declan drags the garter belt down my leg. He pulls out from underneath my skirt with the strip of white lace stuck between his teeth. With an angry yank, he tugs the material from his mouth and launches it in the air without sparing it a second glance.
“Enjoy your evening, everyone.” Declan doesn’t bother helping me up from the chair. He swoops me out of the seat and cradles me, full bridal style, adding to the crowd’s excitement.
I tap on his shoulder. “Umm, Declan?”
“What?” His eyes soften.
“You’re supposed to carry me into the house, not out of here.”
He sighs like I’m the biggest inconvenience in the world. “You couldn’t walk a straight line out the door in flats, let alone in those shoes.”
“Hmm.”
His brows pull together. “What?”
“Maybe you care about me after all.”
“That’s the alcohol talking.”
I sigh. “Jose does have a way with words.”
His arms tighten around me. “Who the fuck is Jose?”
I grin into the lapel of his jacket. “Nobody important.”
“Good, then at least no one will miss him when he’s dead.”
One might think Declan would soften a bit toward me now that I am officially his wife.
Wrong.
The moment Harrison pulls up in the Maybach, Declan all but throws me in the back seat. I drop into the quilted leather with an oomph, and the material of my dress fans around me like a cloud.
“Would it kill you to be gentle?” I peek up at him.
Declan ignores me as he shuts the door in my face. I’m almost positive some of my dress hangs outside, caught in the doorjamb.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I grumble.
His elderly driver nearly trips over his feet to beat Declan to his door.
Poor Harrison is probably afraid to lose his job based on the scary look on Declan’s face. Not that I blame him.
But what triggered his anger? Declan doesn’t spare me another glance as he takes a seat, which only adds to the weight pressing against my chest.
“You’re acting like a child.”
Crickets.
“Are you just going to ignore me the whole time?”
The only reply I get is the revving of the engine as Declan’s driver takes off.
“Fine.” I go to mess around with the dial to play some music, but Declan shoots me a look that has me pulling my hand back.
After a whole five minutes of silence, my tequila-riddled brain gives in.
“I forgot how fun a wedding could be. It’s been years since I went to one.”
Declan remains silent as he continues scrolling through his phone.
“It was nice to meet Rowan’s girlfriend. She’s sweet.”
His hand holding the phone tightens. Hmm. Interesting.
“I don’t know why you don’t like her. It’s not her fault Rowan chose Dreamland over becoming CFO. You should give her a fair shot at least.”
The tic in his jaw makes another appearance, yet he doesn’t bother looking at me. Come on. Give me something to work with.
“They invited us out to dinner tomorrow night and since we aren’t going on a honeymo—”
Declan’s head snaps up. “We are not going to dinner with them.”
“But you’ve barely spoken to Rowan since he decided to stay in Dreamland. I think it would be nice to spend some time with them while they’re in town—”
“I don’t pay you to be concerned over family matters.”
I clench a fistful of my dress. “Lucky for you I’m doing this for free.”
His eyes return to the screen of his phone. “Don’t bother. I’m not going to dinner with Rowan and his girlfriend.”
“Zahra. Her name is Zahra.”
“Her name is as irrelevant as her relationship is with my brother.”
I can’t remove the horrific look off my face. “God, your ability to hold a grudge is terrifying.”
“Consider it a lesson to not get on my bad side.”
“Lately it’s starting to feel like every side is your bad side.”
“Who knew having a wife would be this good for my ego?” His voice takes on a sarcastic tone.
“It’s a wife’s job to call you out on your bullshit because the rest of the world sure as hell won’t. Not when they’re too afraid to speak up around you.”
“What part of we’re not a real couple do you find difficult to understand?”
My chest tightens. I thought Declan and I were falling into a comfortable friendship, but his mood tonight has me questioning if he was only entertaining me so I wouldn’t back out of our arrangement.
His words from the night of our engagement come back to haunt me.
There is nothing I won’t do to earn my inheritance. Remember that when you forget this is only a game to me.
Is that what this all was? A game? Now that he got his way, there’s no reason to play anymore. The idea causes a weird ache in my chest, right above my heart.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. There’s no one to blame but myself.
Declan was always clear about his intentions, and I stupidly read into our relationship all wrong.
Why do you care in the first place? This isn’t even real.
Because maybe somewhere along the way, I forgot that all of this was a lie.
I don’t speak to Declan for the remainder of the drive. If ignoring each other was a sport, we would both be team captains with the way neither one of us speaks.
Once Harrison parks the car, I fight my way past pounds of tulle and lace and exit with as much grace as a newborn horse.
“Iris,” Declan calls after me.
I don’t turn around. I’m too afraid that all my emotions will be written clear as day across my face. “I’m going to bed.”
“You forgot your purse.”