Chapter Three

I wanted to dance some more or drink the Amber liquid he was having or maybe, lash out at him for stealing my first kiss for some freaking media coverage.

But I did nothing except sit down on the couch beside him. How did he trick me? I thought the kiss was real. It felt real to me. In fact, I found my husband enjoying it as much as I did, so why was he pretending it was nothing but a show? Maybe, it was a show for him. They called him the bad boy billionaire of the states for a reason. There were too many scandals in his name and I had spent a month reading about each one of them.

I watched him talk over the phone and it fucking hurt to see him talk so sweetly with whoever was on the other end, tipping his head back and laughing. It wasn’t the usual sarcasm that dripped from his words every time he spoke to me or the humorless laugh he directed towards me. It was all genuine. He was genuinely happy talking to the person. I wondered if it was one of the many debutantes that he had been photographed or one of the many girls he posed on social media.

He turned towards me, a brow raised in a way to remind me that I was staring at him. I looked the other way instantly and focused on his family instead. The family I never had. My mom died when I was five and dad was going through cancer treatment. The doom of my life was that even though I gained one, I felt like a stranger among them.

A lone tear slipped down my cheek as I missed my dad's presence among the family and friends gathered for my wedding. He couldn't walk me to my groom or give my hand to my husband. It was just so cruel to be all by myself even though it was what I had signed for in the first place.

I wiped the salty trails of my miserable life and convinced myself not to cry like a child. After all, I had done it all for my father. I should be thankful that he was getting treatment in one of the best hospitals in New York, the one I could never afford if not for Daniel Rutherford's wife.

My husband watched me with disapproving, cold eyes as I accepted his youngest brother's hand to join him on the dance floor. He watched me dance with his five younger brothers, aged 15 through 25, all polished like him. He sat exactly where he was, downing glasses of bourbon until I was finally deserted by his siblings, each one far more pleasant than their eldest.

I had hardly gotten my breath back when he walked from across the garden towards me, pulling me to his hard chest, his hands holding my waist, finger digging into my flesh through the silk of my wedding dress. His eyes were murderous, so very violent and exceptionally ashen.

"You should head to your quarters. I told you I'm done with this charade. Or do you want to dance with some of the other men in our Rutherford family?" He spoke close to my ear, his lips grazing my earlobe and his warm breath caressing my cheek. I was reminded of the kiss we shared just a few moments ago and couldn't ignore how my lips tingled with the memory. "Your maid will assist you. Don't wait for me. I'll join you later."

I simply nodded. My heart was ready to pound out of my chest with the little quakes he unleashed within me. If his coldness stirred my rage, his closeness had an entirely different effect on me. I wanted to strangle him to death but I wanted him to hold me close to his body more. My charms were getting to me, I guess. They didn't go crazy on his praises in tabloids and magazines for nothing.

My husband left me like that, shuddering for breath, in the middle of the dance floor and disappeared inside the big villa that was booked especially for our wedding. And I watched him walk away, bunching the soft fabric of my white gown into small fists, trying to keep a hold of my emotions and my life.

Everything was like a Cinderella story. Except, of course, my prince charming would never run after me if I decided to leave the palace at midnight.

My handler, Marianne, was a middle aged lady, with high cheekbones and round spectacles. Her gray hair didn’t mean she was nice to me. The way she passed me judgemental looks ever since I was assigned to her for grooming to be a Rutherford bride. I knew I had done a terrible thing by selling my beauty for money but everytime she looked at me that way it made me feel small. And now that I was one of them, I had the power over her, not the other way around.

“You wouldn't want to make your husband wait on his wedding night, would you, Lily?” Marianne said curtly, waiting for me to follow her to my quarters. “I'm sure you know by now that your husband isn’t so nice with his temper.”

I looked at the woman beside me and suppressed the urge to bark at her like any eighteen year old college girl would, if they were forced to be directly under her thumb. But I wasn’t one of the fortunate ones so I resorted to a poker face, one I had practiced ever since I was trained to be a Rutherford.

“Of course, I know.” I gave her a tight-lipped smile, gathered the overflowing white ruffles of my dress and followed her inside on proud legs, the ones I was paid to spread for my husband willingly or unwillingly.

And the next thing I knew, I was standing inside the enormous wedding suite, staring wide-eyed at the king sized round bed with white silk sheets and comforter. I wasn’t allowed to change my wedding dress yet. As per the tradition of the Rutherford family, my husband would be the one to unwrap me and seek his present. The truth was it terrified me.

So, I sat at the edge of the bed, my toes sinking into the soft rug under my feet as I waited for my husband to walk through the door and take his prize.