The Unwanted Marriage (The Windsors, #3)

My thoughts are still reeling by the time we walk into the hotel lobby. I can’t even fully appreciate the splendor of The Lacara, because with every step I take, I second-guess myself more.

The hotel’s expansiveness makes me nervous, and I suddenly realize how crazy this is. I’m not the kind of person that gets to chase moments of happiness, and I’m terrified. I’m scared of hurting Eric, of having to face the consequences of my actions, of the future I’ll have to embrace after today. I’m scared, and I’m tired of feeling that way.

Eric grabs my hand, and I force myself to calm down, to enjoy this last date with him. Dion has taken so much from me already, but these last few hours are mine. This might well be the last bit of freedom I’ll ever have. I can’t spend my last seconds gripped by fear.

Eric pulls my chair out for me and shoots me a worried look, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure I could explain myself if I tried — not without ruining everything.

“I’m nervous too,” he says, misinterpreting my silence. “Somehow, this feels a little like a first date, doesn’t it?” I nod, and he reaches for my hand over the table. “I suppose in some ways, it is. I always said I’d be patient with you and that you’re worth the wait, but I feel like you may have taken those words a little too seriously,” he adds, his tone playful. “Six months before you let me take you out on a real date? It’ll be years before we’re married.”

My smile wavers, and I look down, unable to take the hope interlaced with flirtatiousness in his gaze. Marriage isn’t in the cards for us, and I don’t know how to tell him that. How do I tell him that this is where our story ends?

He entwines our fingers, and I look into his eyes, committing the affection in them to memory. I suppress the wave of helplessness I feel and force a smile.

“You like fish, don’t you?” he asks, pointing to a really overpriced dish on the menu. He’ll undoubtedly want to pay, and I can’t let him treat me to something like that, not when I know I’ll never get to repay him.

He sighs when I shake my head and takes the menu out of my hands. “Let me order for the both of us. Let me surprise you with something I think you’ll love.”

For a moment, I feel like arguing with him. Every fiber of my being wants to tell him I can make my own decisions, but I hold back, knowing that he isn’t my father. He isn’t trying to oppress me… he’s just trying to impress me. Today might well be the last time a man shows me any consideration at all. I’d be a fool to waste a moment like this.

My gaze roams over Eric’s face — his short blonde hair, his brown eyes, and the way he smiles at me. No one has ever looked at me the way he does, like he’s truly seeing me. My gaze settles on his lips, and a sharp pang of longing rushes through me. I’ll never get to kiss him again. I’ll never get to be with someone who chose to be with me, who truly wants me.

“How much does a room here cost?” I ask, the words leaving my lips before the thought has truly formed, before the consequences tied to them catch up to me.

Eric sits up straighter and tugs on the collar of his shirt. “Not that much,” he says, grinning nervously.

I smile back at him, knowing he’s lying. All the Windsor hotels are five-star. I could never afford to stay at any of them. I suppose for a lawyer like Eric, it isn’t quite as out of reach.

His eyes roam over my body, resting on my chest for a moment before he looks away. “I’m sure we can get dinner served in our room,” he says, swallowing hard.

Knowing that he’s just as nervous as I am oddly puts me at ease. He treats me with such care. Dion would never be this patient, this sweet. He’ll take what he thinks I owe him, with no care for my feelings. That’s what it’s always been like. Whenever Dion is forced to interact with me, he does the bare minimum with no consideration of my thoughts or feelings, like he can’t stand to be around me for a second longer than he has to.

I nod, suddenly sure of what I want. For years, my father carefully guarded me, keeping me from so much as befriending guys, scared I’d do something that would give Dion an excuse to break our engagement. This is my last chance to do things on my own terms. I’ll be forced into marriage with a man who more often than not forgets I even exist, but this will be my choice. My virginity will be mine to give.





Chapter Four





Dion



“Do you want me to tell you the good news or the bad news first?” Silas Sinclair, my family’s Head of Security, asks.

I grip my phone tighter as I walk into The Lacara’s lobby, beyond irritated by his endless games. It is my hypothesis that Silas’s propensity to provide information in the most roundabout way possible stems, quite simply, from boredom. The man is so whipped by his wife that there’s no room left for the kind of excitement that used to fill it. “Good,” I tell him sharply.

“I found Hannah.”

I pause mid-step, cold anticipation running down my spine. Ares blacklisted her after everything she did to him and his wife, Raven. The move ended her acting career prematurely and devastated her, but it isn’t enough. She hasn’t paid enough.

“Hannah, Raven’s sister,” he clarifies, as though I could forget who she is for even a single second. I’m not a forgiving man — I don’t forget the names of those who hurt the ones I love. “The woman you asked me to find?”

Irritating. He truly is a fucking pain to deal with. Technically, Silas is only tasked with our security — both personal and cyber, but what he can’t do himself, he has the right connections for. He’s fucking annoying, but he’s reliable, and though I’d never admit it, he knows how to get a job done like no other.

“The bad news?”

He sighs. “She disappeared again shortly before we could apprehend her. It’s obvious she’s enjoying the kind of protection only money can buy. Raven’s father swore that they aren’t helping her, and truthfully, I can’t find any proof that he’s lying. Not yet, anyway.”

I grit my teeth as I walk to the elevators, a hint of fury rushing down my spine. That fucking bitch. I have no idea how she continues to evade us, but it won’t last long.

“I’ll ask Xavier for help,” I murmur. “I’m done fucking around. I’ll be damned if I let her roam around like she’s on an extended luxury holiday while my sister-in-law works herself to the bone to undo the damage she left behind.”

Silas begins to reply, but his words fade away as my ears tune into the sound of a familiar voice nearby. Faye. Her laughter gets louder with each step I take toward her, and for a moment, I can’t quite comprehend finding her here. “I’m going to have to call you back,” I murmur, pure frost coursing through my veins as I watch a man I know all too well wrap his hand around my fiancée’s waist.

My stomach drops when she smiles up at him. Fuck. She’s never once smiled at me that way, and she looks breathtaking. She’s hardly recognizable when she looks so… happy. What is going on here? The elevator doors open, and realization dawns. My fiancée is headed up to a room with another man.

“Eric?” I shout as I walk up to them, calculating my next moves. He looks over his shoulder and smiles when he recognizes me, but my attention is on the tiny, beautiful brunette he’s holding.

Faye has her back turned to me, but I notice the way she freezes at the sound of my voice. The fact that Eric doesn’t look wary can only mean he doesn’t know about us, as expected. If I’d addressed her, she’d have had an opportunity to spin a tale that would excuse the circumstances I’ve found her in. Fuck that.

“Dion,” Eric says, his tone conveying his enthusiasm. “I didn’t realize you were back.”

He offers me his hand, and I shake it, my grip far tighter than it needed to be. He winces and flexes his hand the moment I let go.

I watch as Eric reaches for Faye, who has yet to turn around, her gaze seemingly stuck on the elevator that has once again closed. The clues are damning, but somehow, a small part of me still hopes I’m wrong. With only a few months until our wedding, she can’t seriously be doing this. My timid little fiancée wouldn’t, would she?

“Honey, this is one of my clients, Dion Windsor,” Eric says, pulling her closer.

I chuckle despite the white-hot anger flooding through my body, unable to help myself. Why the fuck is one of my family’s lawyers introducing me to my own fiancée like that?

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