Chapter 8

Zachary stood outside his hotel suite, knocking on the door. "Arielle, open the door."

"Zachary Hawthorne! Don’t let me see your face!" Arielle shouted from inside. She flung herself onto the bed, punching the fluffy pillow as tears streamed down her face. "You forced me to marry you! You asked my dad for my hand in marriage. You dragged me to Chicago. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you so much!"

"I didn’t force you," Zachary sighed, sliding down to sit on the floor with his back against the door.

"Then who told you to give that emotional speech to my papa?" Arielle shot back. "Now he will be even sadder when you break my heart!"

"Why would I break your heart?" Zachary asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"Because you are a heartbreaker," Arielle retorted.

"I thought I was a heartthrob," Zachary replied, chuckling softly. "Open the door, Arielle. The floor is cold. My fever might come back. Or do you want Miss Bella to care for me all night?"

"Even my dog likes you," Arielle cried harder. "This isn’t fair. You have no right to walk into my life and ruin everything!"

She glanced around the room, her eyes falling on the opulent honeymoon suite his parents had arranged for them. It was in a little town famous for its cozy and romantic vibe, a perfect destination for newlyweds. But to Arielle, it felt more like a prison cell. Who wanted to get to know this annoying man anyway?

Her gaze dropped to the wedding band on her finger. She was Mrs Zachary Hawthorne now, for better or worse. The damage was done and there was no undoing it.

"Arielle?" Zachary’s voice broke through her thoughts. "Can we talk? You can yell at me all you want afterwards, I swear."

"Why?" she snapped, her voice sharp as a blade. "So you can justify ambushing me with this marriage nonsense? Do you even realise what you have done? You are lucky my dad didn’t marry you himself after that speech!"

Zachary chuckled again, softly this time. "I don’t think your dad is my type."

"Stop joking!" she yelled, hurling a pillow at the door even though he couldn’t see it.

"I brought food," Zachary said after a while. "Eat something. You will need energy to stay mad at me for three whole days."

"I hate you," Arielle sobbed as her voice was muffled by the pillow she clutched.

"I hate me too," Zachary whispered, leaning closer to the door. "But please, open the door, Arielle. Eat something. Your dad’s already asked me a few times if you have eaten. You know I am terrible at lying."

Finally, she stood, wiped her face, and opened the door.

She found him sitting on the floor, a food trolley parked beside him. His dishevelled hair and tired eyes made him look far less like the confident man she loved to hate and more like someone she couldn’t quite figure out.

Wordlessly, he stood and began serving her food. Arielle sat down at the small table and started eating. 

"Don’t worry. I’m eating with you too," Zachary said as he settled down across from her while grabbing his own plate.

"I didn’t ask," she grumbled, stabbing her fork into the rice on her plate.

"I’m just letting you know," Zachary replied, flashing her a cheeky smile as he scooped some chicken and rice onto his plate.

That smile, how dare he! As if ruining her peace wasn’t enough, now he was going to eat chicken and rice like it was no big deal. Fueled by rage, she stabbed her fork into every piece of chicken on his plate and devoured them while leaving him with nothing but plain rice.

Zachary blinked, stunned for a moment before a slow grin spread across his face. He didn’t know someone could look this adorable while being so mean.

After dinner, he leaned back in his chair and asked gently, "Do you need help taking off your jewellery?"

She paused as her pride was fighting against the undeniable fact that she couldn’t manage all the pins and fastenings by herself. With a resigned sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed. Zachary stepped closer. One by one, he removed the pins from her hair as his fingers brushing against her skin. He unclasped her earrings and necklace with his soft hands. 

"Why did they need to put so many pins in your hair?" Zachary grumbled, pulling out what felt like the hundredth one.

"Ask my makeup artist," Arielle muttered, annoyed.

Finally free of the pins, she stood up and motioned toward her gown. "Now, help me with the safety pins."

Zachary stared at the heavy outfit in shock. "How are you even walking in this thing?"

He carefully removed the hook. When she finally stepped out of the wedding gown, he let out a relieved sigh.

"Have some shame!" Zachary exclaimed. 

Arielle rolled her eyes. "Relax. I’m wearing pants underneath." She pointed to the warm leggings she had on under her gown. "It is freezing because of the rain. Do you think I would just deal with it?"

Zachary laughed, shaking his head. "You are something else."

"Put that somewhere," Arielle said, pointing at the pile of clothes before grabbing a woolen top from her bag and heading to the washroom.

When she came back, the room looked completely different. The flowers, candles, and romantic decorations were gone. She felt satisfied but also oddly annoyed. Why did it look so... plain now?

"What are you doing?" Arielle asked, noticing Zachary setting up a pillow and blanket on the sofa.

"I’m tired and want to sleep," he said with a smirk. His tall frame stretched awkwardly across the small sofa. Pulling the blanket over his head, he added, "Good night, Ari. Sleep well."

Arielle gave him a glare before heading to bed with a huff.

They spent the rest of the week in the honeymoon suite, trying to find common ground. Zachary teased her every chance he got, enjoying her reactions.  By the last day, she accepted that she was married to Zachary Hawthorne, and there was no changing that. And maybe, just maybe, the week hadn’t been all bad though she had never admitted it. Especially since she had managed to get her own revenge for all his teasing.