Dion pushes off the wall and walks toward me, pausing right in front of me, his body so close to mine that my clothes nearly brush against his.
“You look tired,” he murmurs as he lifts his hand to my face. His index finger traces over my dark circles, and I inhale sharply, confused by the tenderness he’s showing me. He keeps catching me by surprise, and I’m not sure what to make of him. His concern is the last thing I expected.
“Dion, darling,” Grandma Anne says. “I thought you couldn’t make it?”
He looks up at his grandmother and nods. “I decided to re-prioritize.”
What does that mean? Is this an act for his grandmother?
Grandma Anne smiles, her eyes sparkling in the way they did in the car, when she caught me staring at Maria. “We’ll leave you to it, then,” she says. “I doubt you need input from outsiders such as Maria and myself.”
She nods at Maria and holds her arm out, gesturing toward the door in an obvious silent order to leave with her. Maria doesn’t seem to notice, though. She’s staring at Dion, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off me for even a single moment.
My heart beats in my throat as I brace myself, though I’m not quite sure for what. Meanwhile, Dion continues to study me, his brows knitting together as his gaze roams over me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, and I struggle to quiet my thoughts and worries. After several moments, I finally hear the door close behind me, and I flinch. “She won’t like that,” I murmur without thinking.
“Who won’t like what?” he asks, his voice soft.
Dion takes another step closer to me, and I take a step back, the two of us continuing this dance until he’s got me trapped against the wall behind me.
His body presses against mine, the top of my head barely reaching his shoulder. He smirks down at me as though he finds me endearing, and his hand threads through my hair.
I gasp when he tilts my face up toward his. “Explain,” he murmurs, his soft voice in contrast with the way he holds me.
My eyes widen, and my heart begins to race wildly. I don’t know how to navigate life with him. Despite his rough edges, he always makes me feel so safe — something about him tempts me into acting out, into speaking my mind.
“Maria,” I whisper. “The way she was speaking made it seem like she intends to spend a lot of time here. She won’t like being left out of the decorating decisions.”
I can’t explain why, but there’s a hint of hope entwined with my anxiety, as though part of me wishes he’ll put my worries to rest. Expects it, even. When I questioned him about the article in The Herald, he made it seem like there’s nothing between them, but her behavior made me question his sincerity.
Dion clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on my hair, his entire body tensing against mine. “I thought I told you I’m yours,” he tells me, his voice more of a low growl. “I don’t share, Faye. That works both ways. I thought I’d made that clear.”
“You don’t?” I ask, cautiously hopeful. I’ve always been worried that he’d have an endless string of mistresses, that I’d be nothing but a puppet to him, a doll to show off. Just as my fears had begun to abate, Maria reignited them.
“I don’t,” he clarifies. His eyes flash, and he hesitates for a moment. “I have no intention of being with anyone but you ever again. I’m not sure what she said, but I’ll speak to her and remind her that you’re the one I’m marrying. I’ll tell her I belong to you, and only you. Will that make you feel better?”
I nod at him hesitantly, my cheeks blazing and my heart pounding wildly. The relief I feel would’ve made my knees give in if I hadn’t been leaning back against the wall, Dion’s body pressed against mine. His continuous absence and the distance he always enforced between us painted a picture that is so vastly different from the one he’s presenting me with now, and though it should scare me, it does quite the opposite. Somehow, he’s made me stop fearing him and our future together.
Dion smiles and places his free hand on my jaw, his thumb brushing over the edge of my mouth. “Jealousy looks so beautiful on you, Faye.” I part my lips to deny his insinuation, but I find that I can’t, not when he’s looking at me with that knowing look in his eyes. “Keep being good for me, baby, and I’ll be good to you too. So good.”
His thumb brushes over my lip again, and I tense when I feel him harden against me. My heart is beating so loudly, I’m convinced he must hear it. Dion’s gaze drops to my mouth, and he inhales shakily, as though he’s doing his best to resist temptation.
I stare up at him, waiting, wanting, hoping for something I swore I’d never expect from him. He smiles and bites down on his lip, the image so sexy that I find myself clenching my thighs.
Dion sighs, and then he pushes away from the wall, putting some distance between us as he drags a hand through his thick dark hair.
He turns his back to me and stares up at the ceiling for a moment. When he faces me, his expression is as calm as it always used to be. “Faye,” he says, his voice soft. “If there’s one thing my parents taught my siblings and me about marriage, it’s that communication is key. I’m inclined to agree with that lesson, despite it not coming easy to me. Our marriage is an unconventional one. We’re starting off on the wrong foot entirely, and I have no intention of making a bad situation worse by letting misunderstandings fester.” He clenches his jaw and inhales deeply. “I didn’t treat you as my fiancée for years, in part because of your age. Because of it, I pushed you straight into another man’s arms. That won’t happen ever again, you hear me? You’re mine now, and I’m yours — exclusively. I don’t want there to be any confusion about that.”
The sincerity in his eyes renders me speechless, and all I can do is nod. Every time I’m alone with him, he ends up surprising and intriguing me, and it doesn’t appear to be a facade.
I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve known him for years, but I’m starting to realize that I don’t know him at all.
Chapter Sixteen
Dion
I watch Faye’s fingers move across the keys at a fascinating speed, a melody I don’t recognize filling the air between us. She’s yet to notice me standing in her piano room, and I take a moment to study her.
She’s most beautiful when she’s losing herself in her music. From where I’m standing, I notice her straight back, that dainty waist I love wrapping my hands around, and her beautiful long neck.
I’ve never noticed a woman’s neck before, yet I’m noticing it when it’s Faye. Every inch of her is breathtaking in an understated yet incredibly powerful way. Her beauty is the kind that makes you take note, that makes you lose your courage, because how could anyone ever stand a chance with someone like her?
Her eyes fall closed, and she smiles as the melody changes, the notes mellowing in a comforting way. It hits me then — she isn’t the only one who’s smiling.
For years, I couldn’t stand to hear the sound of a piano, because it reminded me of my mother, and that, in turn, triggered the guilt I have yet to overcome. When did the sound of a piano become something I attributed to Faye, and not my mother? When did I begin to enjoy it again?
Faye sighs when she lifts her fingers off the ivories, the last note still ringing through the air. That satisfaction on her face… fuck. Does she have any idea how fucking sexy she looks right now?
I bite my bottom lip in an effort to suppress the sudden desire I feel, but it’s to no avail. I can’t stop the images that come to mind of her in my bed, that same satisfied smile on her lips, her body thoroughly satiated.
She tenses when she finally spots me, her eyes widening in shock. “Dion? What are you doing here?”
I’ve never visited her at home before, and I can tell she’s flustered. I didn’t think she could get any more beautiful, but that rosy blush does it. “I’m here to pick you up.”
She slowly rises from her bench, her expression turning guarded. Even at home, she’s perfectly dressed in the kind of outfit my sister would wear to work. Does she have plans today that I’m ruining? I’m the one who enforced the distance between us, but now I find myself curious about her. How does she spend her days? Clearly, practicing takes up most of her time, but what else does she do? What is it that makes her smile after a tough day?
She walks toward me, and I meet her halfway, my heart warming. I haven’t seen her without heels in years, and I forgot just how tiny she is. Fucking adorable.
For a single moment, I wonder what it’ll be like to have her legs wrapped around my waist, her body pressed against the wall as I push into her. She’s so fucking tiny… I’d tear her apart.