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Looking down at my watch, I notice Tara’s been gone for twenty minutes and fourteen seconds.
Where the hell is she?
Randall gave me quite the interrogation after she ran off, but thankfully he got tired of not getting anything he could use to poke holes in this marriage and left.
I traded one evil for another though. My mom has been talking my ear off about how stunning Tara is and how much she likes her already. I’m happy she likes her, but I hope she doesn’t get too attached since this is a short-term deal.
Tara is gone once this year is up.
As soon as the firm’s in my name, we’re getting the big D. Divorce.
I’ve been trying to tune Mom out, because I’m tired of hearing about how good Tara is for me. She’s not. She’s fucking stubborn, has a mouth on her, and defies me every chance she gets. She’s the type of woman who’ll fight me for being a dick to her, the type that I don’t have the patience to put up with for the rest of my life. I can deal with her for a year, but for eternity? Fuck no. I need someone compliant, submissive. Something she’ll never be.
So why didn’t I just choose one who’d fall at my feet?
That would’ve been too easy, and Tara was too damn tempting.
Every once and a while, I give my mother a nod and a “mmhmm” so she doesn’t know my mind is a million miles away.
Tara’s friends introduced themselves to me earlier, then went roaming around the party, checking everything out and talking to other guests. It doesn’t take a genius to know that they don’t approve. They’ve had scowls painted on their faces since they walked through the door. They’re probably whispering in Tara’s ear every chance they get about how this is a bad idea. But I don’t care. Tara signed the contract—she’s locked in for a year, whether she likes it or not.
I search the crowded room for my runaway bride, but she’s nowhere in sight. I already know she’s not here because any time we’re in the same room, it’s like I can feel her around me. All I see now are people I only see for special occasions, or the ones I pretend to like on the daily at work.
My patience is growing thinner the longer I wait. Tara’s been gone for too long; she needs to get back in here to entertain our guests. A million scenarios run through my head about where she could be. She could be ratting me out. Or flirting with another man. She could be getting shit-faced right now.
All I know is that she better not have run out on me. If she did, she’ll regret it. I’ll start with her family’s precious restaurant as a reminder not to defy me.
Is that who I really want to be though? Using that against her, like my father would have?
I look down into my mom's blue eyes and gently place my hand on her upper arm, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I'm going to look for Tara.”
She gives me a beaming smile before nodding. “Okay, honey. I'm going to sit at the table. It shouldn't be too much longer before the food's out. I can’t wait to talk to Tara all about cooking—I bet that girl knows her way around the kitchen.”
I really couldn’t tell you if she does or not.
Mom turns, making her way to the circular table she had placed in the middle of the room, because Tara and I “should be the center of attention” and all that type of bullshit my mom was spouting earlier. Tara isn't much of a party planner—and hasn't even told her parents about the engagement yet—so my mom had free reign with this party, and will most likely for our wedding day too.
Whether Tara tells her family about our marriage is up to her. I don’t give a fuck. Honestly, it might be easier for me if she never tells them. They could try to stop her from marrying me, or worse, they might want to include me in their lives, like a son they never had. So actually, I’m better with her keeping it a secret.
I inhale deeply, feeling free for the first time since we walked through the door. No one is bombarding me with questions. I’m not putting on a fake smile. I can finally breathe.
Unfortunately, that feeling doesn’t last long, knowing I have to find that smart-mouthed fiancée of mine. Turning on my heels, I make my way to the hall to find the bathroom door wide open. The light is still on, but she’s not in there.
What the fuck?
My pulse speeds up, as I flick through all the scenarios in my head again. She’s going to feel my wrath if she fucking left.
My fists clench at my sides as my eyes linger on the empty bathroom. She wasn’t out in the foyer. There are a lot of people out there, but there’s no way I could miss her and that sparkly dress. The one which gives everyone the perfect view of her cleavage.
I can’t believe she wore that, after I gave her clear guidelines on the dress code. Actually, I can believe it. That girl doesn’t listen to a word I say.
The sound of heels clicking on the marble floor catches my attention. My eyes float up to see Tara walking toward me from down the hall in a rush, her gaze locked on the floor. She’s not paying attention to what’s in front of her, so she doesn’t even see me standing here watching her.
She had no reason to be down there.
I clear my throat, and her attention snaps up to me. Her eyes widen, startled. Her face is flushed, and I can see her pulse racing at the base of her throat.
“What the hell were you doing down there?” I spit, keeping my voice low so no one else can hear.
