I frown at her. Why would she need my permission for something like that? “Of course,” I murmur, unsure of what else to say.
She nods at me and disappears into the walk-in-wardrobe, leaving me feeling unsettled. Maybe I should’ve checked if I could arrange a separate room for her after all. I figured there’s no point in postponing the inevitable, but perhaps she needs more time to adjust to this mad situation. We’ve had most of our lives to come to terms with our upcoming marriage, but now that we’re only a few months removed from it, reality is finally sinking in for me. It must be the same for her, too. The only difference is that I’m starting to look forward to everything she’s dreading.
Chapter Nineteen
Dion
I lift my towel to my wet hair as I walk out of the bathroom and into our suspiciously silent bedroom. For a moment, I wonder if Faye decided to get a room of her own after all, but then I notice movement through the large sliding doors.
I pause and take a moment to study her, enjoying my position outside of her field of vision. She’s in a short black silky nightgown that clings to her body with every move, and even from here, I can tell she’s still every bit as flustered as she was earlier. I’m not sure if the champagne will ease her nerves or make it worse.
Faye looks up when I walk out, her eyes widening when they land on my mostly bare body. I’m in nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts, and that look on her face does wonders for my ego.
I glance down at myself and cup the back of my neck. “I don’t wear pajamas to bed, and I was in such a rush when I packed that I forgot to bring loungewear. Like you, I was given very little notice. If you’re uncomfortable, I can put my suit back on.”
“N-no,” she says, dragging her gaze away, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean to stare. I’m so sorry.”
I throw her a roguish smirk and shake my head. “You can, you know? You’re the only woman in the world that has every right to stare as much as you want. I’m yours, after all.”
Her eyes widen a fraction, and I bite back a smile as I grab the champagne bottle that she carried outside. I’m acutely aware of her as I pop the cork off, noting the way she jumps in surprise. I hand her a glass and hold up my own. “We should probably toast, but to what?”
She tilts her head slightly, lost in thought for a moment. She looks so beautiful standing here, that black silk clinging to her bare nipples and her long wavy hair falling around her small frame like some kind of dark fucking halo. Her beauty is surreal, and I have to force myself to look away.
“To summer breezes, new experiences, and us,” she whispers eventually. “Whatever that may entail.”
A soft, amused huff escapes my lips, and I clink my glass to hers, our eyes locked. “To us, Faye.”
I watch her as we both take a sip, and the way she smiles into her glass makes my heart beat a little faster. It’s so rare for her to smile in my presence that I find myself savoring the moment.
Faye sits down on the big round lounge bed in the corner, and I seat myself next to her, her thigh brushing against mine. We fall into a comfortable silence, both of us sipping our champagne as the sound of waves crashing fills the air, a soft breeze making her hair dance.
Every once in a while, her gaze darts over my abs and down my legs, her breathing erratic. She’s never looked more beautiful, and fuck, I’ve never been happier to get checked out. I don’t even think she realizes she’s doing it. It’s odd, but I’ve never felt quite so at peace. Just existing with her in the moment is enough for me.
“Faye,” I murmur, my thoughts drifting to our future. “How do you feel about our upcoming marriage?” I’m not even sure why I’m asking that question. All I know is that I need an answer.
From the moment I saw her with Eric, I was worried that our marriage would be filled with resentment, but we seem okay so far. She seems to dislike our circumstances as much as I do, but I don’t think she’s blaming me personally, as I thought she might. I guess what I’m really asking is how she feels about me. It might not seem like it to her, but in the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to be a better man. It feels ridiculous to even try, yet she makes me want to.
Faye stares at her empty glass. I refill it just to keep my restless hands busy, and she knocks back half of it before she turns to look at me. “Scared,” she admits, her voice trembling as her gaze fills with uncertainty. “I’m scared, Dion.”
My heart sinks, and I tip back my own champagne glass as I mull over her words. “Do I scare you?” I ask, my voice soft.
“Yes,” she whispers. “But not in the way you think.”
I put my glass away and lie down on the lounge bed in an effort not to tower over her. I lie back and watch her through lowered lashes, uncertain how to reply, how to settle her fears. It’s hardly surprising that she finds me intimidating. It isn’t just my height and frame, it’s because I’ve inadvertently shown her sides of me I hide from everyone else. My usual polite and friendly demeanor melts away the moment she does anything that I didn’t quite see coming, which is happening more and more often.
I reach for her hesitantly, the tips of my fingers brushing over her cheek. “Tell me,” I murmur, my voice soft and coaxing. “How do I scare you? Tell me, so I can try to change.”
Faye looks down at me, her eyes flitting over my body, before finally settling on my face. “You… you make me feel like I’m in stasis, like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don’t understand you, and I don’t like that. I’m aware that you can’t get access to your inheritance until we’re married, and I’m scared of what will happen to me once you no longer need me. I’d rather have your cruelty now, than be lulled into a false sense of security. I’m scared you’re playing some kind of elaborate game, trying to keep me happy until the wedding, and after that, you’ll punish me for what I did. If you’re going to hurt me, I’d rather you do it now. It’s not like I can run away, you know? I’m as trapped in this arrangement as you are.”
I stare up at her in surprise and reach for her hand. My touch gentles as I entwine our fingers. “Those fears will never come to pass, Faye. I swear it. I won’t punish you for having a life prior to our marriage, just like I’ve had mine. What right do I have to do that?”
She studies me, a spark of hope in those stunning blue eyes. I want her to keep looking at me that way, like she’s taking a chance on me, like she’s choosing to trust me.
“And for what it’s worth,” I whisper. “You scare me too.”
Her lips part, and a soft, surprised sound escapes her throat. “I do?”
I nod. “You’re nothing like what I expected. I thought I knew you, but every second we spend together further proves that I don’t. You scare me, because so far I’m liking what I’m discovering. Even worse… I want to find out more. I want to know what hides behind every single one of your fake smiles, what makes you tick, what makes you happy. I’m dying to find out what makes you moan, how you’ll feel. I need to know if I can make you gasp the way you did when I kissed your neck on the plane, and which other parts of your body are sensitive. I never expected to want you, and the fact that I do… the fact that I want more than just your body, it’s fucking terrifying.”
She looks away, but she can’t hide the blush that extends all the way to the tips of her ears. Fucking adorable. I smirk as she reaches for the champagne bottle, her hand trembling as she refills her glass.
“Did you see the retraction The Herald published?” I ask carefully. “I demanded they clarify the rumors they instigated about Maria and me. I even supplied additional photos for them to print, proving she and I were neither alone nor on holiday. I won’t hurt you if I can help it, Faye. Not even indirectly or unintentionally. I’m going to be good to you. So fucking good that you won’t even remember that fucker. Everything he made you feel, everything he gave you, will pale in comparison to what we’ll have.”
Her eyes widen in surprise and her hand slips, causing some of her champagne to spill onto my chest. I gasp as the cold liquid hits my skin, and she turns toward me, drawing herself up on her knees. “I’m so sorry!” she says as she reaches over me, her hands swiping across my chest. She’s so flustered and apologetic that she doesn’t realize what view she’s presenting me with — those flushed cheeks and her wild hair combined with the way her nightgown gapes near her chest as she bends over me, exposing the tips of dark nipples. Fuck.
I grab her wrist and hold it in place, my heart racing. “This,” I whisper. “This is why you fucking terrify me, my darling fiancée.”