Chapter 2: The Busy Groom

Mabel’s POV

My ears twitched. Alert. Waiting for more words, but there were none.

I took a slow, deliberate turn and my eyes landed on him. But I couldn't make out his features from where he sat cross-legged in the far left corner of the living room.

“Mr Ferguson,” I called, but it came out more like a question. I had to be sure it was him before giving him a piece of my mind.

He didn't say a word. Instead, he stood up, his full height unveiling, taking slow but steady strides toward me like someone accustomed to obedience from others. My anger increased with every step that he took, making my grip tighten on the fabric of my dress.

Stopping just a few feet away from me, the room suddenly felt cold due to his dominating and intimidating aura.

I didn't need a soothsayer to tell me, this was him. The jerk who sent a substitute in his stead. The jerk who stood me up at the altar. My jaw tightened as I tried to contain the storm brewing within me.

My eyes narrowed at him, scrutinizing his facial features: well-pointed nose, sharp jawline, beautiful brown eyes, and tempting pink lips. His lower lip was slightly fuller, giving him the perfect look for modeling.

His neatly trimmed beards and professionally styled brown hair complemented his perfectly sculpted face making him almost irresistible to any straight woman.

If I didn't have such a bad impression of him already, I probably would've fallen for him at first sight. Too bad he had a rotten personality, not a good mix.

“You must be the busy groom.” I took a step forward, refusing to be intimidated by his countenance; due to the nature of my job as a reporter, I've come across all kinds of people, including celebrities. Scary, ugly, intimidating, dominating, name them.

His brow arched slightly, broad shoulders slightly tense as though he was irritated by my refusal to his subjugation.

“I'm not sure what's more impressive, the fact that you're busy doing nothing or the fact that you're managing to convince yourself that it's a legitimate activity.” His expression instantly turned dark at my sarcastic remark.

A satisfied smirk curled up the corner of my lips as I reached for my shoes to remove them. These heels were killing me.

He let out what sounded almost like a scoff in disbelief, taking a step closer and reducing the gap between us.

“I can see that you didn't get the memo.” His deep baritone caused my knees to quiver involuntarily. My heart skipped in reaction to his voice, stylishly, I leaned into the railing for support. What the hell is happening to me?

And I did get the memo. Sending a substitute in his stead was more like a welcome address to hell. I knew it very well. But I wasn't going to give him the upper hand. Never. That's enough humiliation for the day.

“I think it's high time I gave you my memo.” My voice was firm, matching my serious expression. My middle finger stuck out as I stared deeply into his cold eyes, my gaze unwavering. An eye for an eye.

“I don't give a flying fuck about you and I won't let you walk all over me.”

His eyes burned with contempt, sending a cold shiver through my spine but I refused to falter. I refused to give in. I refused to crack. I won't give him the satisfaction that he badly craved.

His gaze, hardened and murderous, roamed my face as though searching for the source of my nerve.

“You seem to run your mouth a lot.” His voice dropped dangerously low, “I'll make you wish you never said that.”

His words stirred something within me. Anger, fear, or maybe both, making me cling tightly to the railing.

With that, he turned and stepped away. A deep sigh of relief escaped my nostrils; only then did I realize I had been holding my breath due to his invasion of my space.

Suddenly, he stopped, without turning back.

“I believe AJ made things clear enough, do not cross my lane.” He warned coldly and walked away.

I assumed AJ was the substitute's name. And yes, I had no plans to get in his way. I'd be more than glad if he stayed in his lane as well.

A light tug on my shoes, which I held in my hand, suddenly alerted my senses. Clenching my fist, I got ready to strike whoever it was.

“Let me help you with these.” I turned swiftly at the sound of a female voice.

My eyes met with a pair of unfamiliar smiley eyes, the corners of my brow curved high sending a silent message that words couldn't.

“I apologize for my manner of approach. My name is Nora and I'm your maid.” The lady grinned widely, displaying her perfect set of white teeth. I kept a straight face, just staring keenly at her. She looked pretty young, just pale-skinned.

Her smile dropped slowly as she observed my unwavering expression, as if she remembered something immediately, she handed me a card. I hesitated a moment before accepting it.

It read: “I've sent a wedding gift to celebrate your union. I expect you to accept it with the same warmth and generosity that our family is known for.

Sincerely, Old Mr Ferguson.”

The letter held no warmth whatsoever. I could swear there was a hidden meaning to it and I couldn't help but wonder if I had missed something. My eyes scanned around me but I found nothing.

I read it again.

“I'm here!” Nora exclaimed with her arms wide open.

“Huh?”

“I'm your wedding present.” What the? My brow shot up, my expression a mixture of surprise and defiance.

“You don't like what you see?” She asked, her eyes pleading for me to say otherwise.

I shook my head in disapproval; this is the 21st century; who the hell treats humans like a commodity? “I don't need a maid.”

“Even if my life depended on this?” What now? What did that mean? Was she under duress?

My gaze lingered on her for a while before I spoke again, “How old are you?”

“I'm 25 years old.”

She's two years older than me, but her pale skin made it look like I was older.

“Please…” she took me by surprise as she went on her knees and held the hem of my dress, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Get up, stop it already.”

It's embarrassing. If anyone walked in on us, they would think I was mistreating her. It's not like I cared about their thoughts; it's just that I've had a long day, and this was a little too much.

When she didn't budge, I let out a defeated sigh, “You can stay and do your job.”

Her eyes lit up in delight, followed by a silent sniffle, “You won't regret this, I promise,”

Well, she'd better keep her word. She reached for my bag and shoes again, and this time, I didn't resist.

“I'll show you to your room.”

I nodded, letting her take the lead.

The rhythmic vibration of my phone made Nora hand my purse back to me.

A smile crawled to the corner of my lips at the caller ID. It was my dad, he must've arrived home safely.

“Took you a while to call me.” I pretended to sound offended.

“Sorry, cupcake. I arrived about 10 minutes ago, just got into some trouble.”

A slight wave of panic washed over me.

“Did something happen, Dad?”

I heard him sigh, “It's your aunt, Ro..”

A distant voice from the background interrupted him before he could finish.

“You can't take my child away without informing me! I won't accept such disrespect!” It was Aunt Rose's voice.

I heaved a sigh of relief; at least it was just my Aunt.

“You know how she is, she's nuts. She went to your room and found it empty and she's making a scene.” My dad explained making me feel a little guilty for disappearing without notifying her.

My mom died while birthing me and Aunt Rose, my father's only sibling, moved into our home to care for me. Plus, she didn't have a child of her own; I was everything she had.

My dad never wanted her to know about the marriage, he said he'd tell her later. I don't know why he kept it from her.

“Can I speak to her?” I asked him.

Nora stopped in front of a door, turning back to face me, I nodded to assure her I was still with her.

“No.” He replied bluntly. Nora opened the door to reveal a beautiful room decorated with luxurious aesthetics, she moved, making way for me to enter.

“Okay. Extend my greetings to her when you can” There's no point pressuring him. I'll see my aunt soon when I have the time. I miss her already.

My legs found their way to the window side, appreciating the beautiful view outside.

“Take care of yourself, Honey.” His voice held a hint of sadness, one that saddened my heart.

“I'm not a little girl. You should be concerned about yourself, be nice to Aunt Rose so she can allow you to live in peace.” I tried to lighten the mood. I heard him laugh lightly before hanging up.

Dropping my phone on the nightstand, I sat on the queen-sized bed, soft and bouncy. Just how I liked it. A door caught my attention, and without thinking, I walked to it in a quest to satisfy my curiosity. Behold a walk-in closet! An involuntary gasp escaped my throat as my eyes admired the interior.

“Here's your dress for tonight's dinner,” Nora's voice cut through my thoughts. A look of confusion crossed my face.

“What dinner?”

“Old Mr Ferguson is having a welcome dinner for you and the Young Master at the family estate.”

“Do I have to go?” I was already tired from all the drama today. I didn't have the strength for more.

“Yes, it's a family tradition to officially welcome you to the Ferguson family.”

I sighed in defeat, “Okay, I need to get some rest now. Wake me up when it's almost time.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Mabel.” I corrected her.

“Sorry?”

“The name is Mabel.”

“I… I can't call you that.” She murmured. I waved my hand dismissively, feeling the need to take off this dress and rest.

“Help me,” The dress wasn't too big, but the jewelry made it too heavy.

“You dropped this.” She held up her hand, waving a familiar piece of paper in front of me.