He had the typical business man look: a strong jaw set into a clench like he just lost a business deal, and narrowed eyes, a sight I saw often on my father.
His suit seemed to be made out of expensive material and tailored to match every muscle of his body, making him seem intimidating and even from the distance where we were standing, I knew he was a very authoritative man.
But what really irked me was the fact that his hair looked darker than mine. Was that even possible? I was pretty sure my hair was black, maybe brown in the sunlight, but his just looked darker than black, which really wasn't a colour. I took pride at my hair colour and now here he was thinking he could just waltz in here and have better hair than me. Not allowed.
As he turned around, I saw his full face and my, did he look stunning! Not a word I could use to describe him.
I wouldn’t call him a model, even if he had a strong jaw and slightly sharp cheekbones. He didn't have the calm aura of a model. At the same time, he looked too handsome to be simply just a businessman.
But, of course, he wasn't simply a businessman. He was a CEO and he even dressed like one off duty.
A perfect fitting white button up shirt and black suit pants. It was an outfit I saw too often at home from my father. I was sure he even slept in his work clothes.
I was waiting for someone older, uglier, not a perfect 11 on an attractive scale where 10 was the highest you can go. The most I was expecting was a 4, someone on their deathbed to come out saying "Ta-da! You married me, I'm going to die soon, and you can take my money.”
I was sure that's why my mother agreed to this deal, and who knew she did one thing right by picking out such a man. Oh right, she didn’t pick him out. My great-great somewhere-in-the-family-line grandfather did. Kudos, grandfather, kudos.
The butler and maid hurried over from beside me greeting him in a hurry while I was rooted to my spot like a Greek statue. He turned around the other way to talk to our butler and I saw the flash of bright green eyes that were prominent and stunning in his face.
I forced my eyes away from him. I could probably stare at him all day, and moved to the still open car door and I stared at it. Was someone else going to step out? Maybe the real Darius, an older man that was not even a quarter as handsome as him and for reality to laugh at me, but nothing.
How did I not realise what he looked like at the altar? Maybe it was the part where I was trying to figure out a way to run away took up the part where I was meant to look at him. And the other time I did look up was when I glared at my mother for putting me in that situation. Marry him or never see my father again. She knew how much I loved my father, what I would do for him, and she played those emotions against me.
Maybe she was right after all. Emotions made you weak. Would I still be here if I had no emotions, married to this man, or would I have told her two colourful swear words and walked away not caring what happened to the man who created me?
I looked at the open door again. Maybe reality would come now. I just needed a supermodel to step out in some flattering dress and a negative size body and I could be cast aside, but nothing.
He grabbed a file from the driver and started walking. My pulse was racing. Was he going to greet me? What do I say?
But I was saved when he walked straight past me, and Rose without even a glance spared for us. I blinked, stunned. Well, that was the welcome I was expecting.
I laughed out loud at my stupidity, earning a concerned look from Rose. What was I expecting, him to hug me and be so joyful that he saw me? I should have known he wouldn’t recognise me like I didn’t recognise him. We barely knew each other - no, correction, we didn’t know each other.
"Well, that was a warm welcome," Rose whispered from beside me and I nodded my agreement with her. So warm I didn’t even need a jumper in this cold.
"He's probably jet lagged," she added in his defense. I raised an eyebrow at her and shook my head as I walked back inside. Of course he was jet lagged. I made my way back to the parlor room sighing. I might as well spend the rest of the day locked up in here dreaming every other day about what could have been.
I hadn’t even fully sat down and the door opened and my heart skipped. Was that him? I frowned when I saw it was Margaret, our maid, walking in smiling like she just saw the happiest thing in her life. I tried smiling back at her but my muscles just didn’t cooperate. She was a nice lady and she showed more affection toward me than my mother ever had.
"Hello, dearie. Dinner will be served soon. Don't worry. You and the lad will have plenty to talk about then. He's just tired," she said. Rose nodded her head vigorously in support of Margaret.