‘Give me your hand,’ He demanded, extending his hand on top of mine. I could feel my anger rise inside me with his outlandish behaviour. Ever since he came back from his business trip, the man I came to love was no longer there. The imposter beside me could be best described as a repulsive man with a wicked mind.
I huffed once I felt his rough hand gripping my delicate one. He continued to speak, whilst I tuned out the background noises, daydreaming about the summer days when our love burnt the brightest. ‘Did you even hear what I said?’ To be truthful, I didn’t hear a single thing he blabbered about. ‘Typical...’ He whispered underneath his breath.
‘I said to wipe that gloom off your face. We’re almost here, can’t have the paparazzi using our pictures out of context again.’ It’s interesting how he chose to empathise on the last word, ‘again’, like as if the whole population who saw those photos circulating online were merely brainless sheep, making speculations out of thin air. Like as if a famous man, who is known to be “happily engaged”, walking out of a random woman’s apartment at the twilight hours with a dishevelled appearance is just a “misunderstanding.”
He was there for “emotional support.” I guess his “emotional support packet” includes your deepest sexual desires to be quenched as long as you’re not his fiancé. And that’s Night Anston for you. A man loyal to the gods of unfaithfulness and a pain in the arse, wrapped around with beauty and money.
He exhaled loudly squeezing my hand a little tighter than earlier, however, I continued on with a straight face looking forward, I refuse to bless him with my face, yet alone, with any other emotion that he can twist into believe he's getting to me. He doesn’t deserve to see a glimpse of emotion. I won’t be caving in - not this time. ‘You’re quiet today, my belladonna.’ He stated as I shivered; to hear that unusual nickname after a long time can do a number on my raging hormones.
I heard his low throaty laughter emanate the car interior. Was he laughing at my childish pettiness, or was it the betrayal of my body reacting to his velvety smooth voice as he enunciated each word of ‘belladonna’ almost seductively? Who would have thought a weird nickname that means deadly nightshade would send shivers down a person’s body. Well, considering it’s me, it’s expected.
‘I see, you’re giving me the silent treatment.’ He tusked.
‘You better smile once we are out of here, got it my belladonna?’ I guess I have no other choice. I worked up the little courage I had left within me to try to straighten out his repugnant behaviour.
‘To smile... but for what?’ I slowly turned my head to look at an intrigued Night. I bit my lower lip, now making sure my whole body was facing Night, as his eyes went from a nautical blue to a deep navy, with lust and mischief twinkling in them. ‘I find it a little weird to tell a person to smile at their funeral.’ Night’s face quickly merged into a puzzled expression, whilst I rested my head on the back of my seat. I love this man more than words could describe. And for him to change 180 after years of being together still left me puzzled. He didn’t realise how much his words affected me emotionally, or maybe he did - and it was a simple fact; he didn’t care anymore. All I knew right now is that I had a swarm of emotions swelling inside me, as I held back the stinging tears. I got this... I got this.
‘Don’t you have to be dead to “attend your own funeral”?’ Oh, how adorable this man can be; it’s wickedly sweet. I burst out in giggles as he continued trying to connect the dots to my stupid joke.
After a good giggle session to myself and a frustrated Night later, I put him out of his misery. Clearing my throat and moving the loose strand of hair out of my face, I turned to look forward once more before sighing loudly.
‘It was a stupid joke.’ I fiddled with my fingers that rested on my lap, whilst looking down. Night huff beside me as he muttered how stupid the joke was. As much as I tried, I couldn’t help but smile underneath the curtain of hair that framed my face slightly. This man has always had me on a rollercoaster ride of emotions. One moment he’s driving me up the walls, then the next minute, he’ll be making my heart skip a beat, or even better, making me succumb to his magical touch-.
The limousine came to a smooth halt as my heart rapidly pumped and beads of sweat shamelessly started to seep through. We were still seated safely in the car, yet the roaring cheers of the devoted fans and obsessed paparazzi made me fear for what would happen within a few moments, where the only protection against them was opened, allowing the swarm of fan base armies to attack us with unnecessary death glares and hateful comments towards me, amongst the sweet cheers of the sweeter side of the fan base.
The dimmed interior quickly was consumed by the flashing lights of the cameras as they blitzed left, right and centre. The screaming became more coherent as I slowly walked out of the car, following a confident Night behind. Paparazzi and fangirls - just the words alone sends unpleasant shivers down my body. The enthusiastic cheers alone are enough to set my panic train on the move.
I felt the warm breath of Night fanning over my exposed skin, making me inhale sharply from the sudden contrast. He lowered his face, even more, leaving a sweet and gentle kiss on the crook of my neck. ‘Remember to smile, my belladonna.’ He squeezed my love handle, moving his face away, and waving at the paparazzi and fans as he snaked his brawny arm around my waist, tugging me towards his hard chest. I towed on the hem of his shirt, adverting his attention back to me. I smiled sweetly at him, then dragged his face down and roughly whispered in his ear.
’Listen here, Night, ′ I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and trying to collect the bit of courage I had left. ’We might be engaged, but you have no right to tell me what to do.′ I pushed him aside a little to get a better look at his reaction. He looked at me with furrowed brows, whilst my hand found its way to his cheek, caressing his unshaven yet tidy beard. ‘I don’t care if you’re legally mine, I will rip this contract into pieces. It will be the end of you and me.’
I tiptoed to match at least a half of his towering size. I knew the eyes of eager fans and paparazzi were on us, hitching their breaths as they wait for what’s to unfold. I smiled once more, then planted a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. Slowly, I brought myself back down and sashayed down the crowd with Night right beside me. I could feel his intense gaze burning the side of my face as we walked down together, hand in hand.
In times like this, pretending everything was okay was for the best. Just before we entered the apartment complex, he pulled me once more towards his chest, caressing my hair as he looked at me with his pool of dark chocolate coloured eyes. The type of eyes you’d be afraid to look into, afraid you’ll drown into their ocean of lies and secrets, afraid you’ll never be able to get up as he’s already captured your heart and soul with just one adoring look.
‘Let’s not forget, you’re mine and no ″breaching of contract″ will ever change that, mi Amor.’ And just like that, in a matter of seconds, he laughed loudly, pulling me closer to him and holding my hand in his, locking our fingers together tightly. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t breach the contract, not unless I had hardcore evidence of Night cheating, and even then, these shreds of evidence seem to vanish in thin air.
Alas, this contract is the only thing keeping my family safe in the hands and mercy of the most powerful and influential family in the whole of Europe.