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His chair scrapes across the tiled floors as he abruptly stands, his plate half eaten. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he downs the wine and excuses himself, “I have an important call to attend. Don’t wait for me.”
Before I can process the sudden one-eighty of the night, he’s gone.
My own appetite lost, I sit alone, staring into space for a few long minutes before composing myself and carrying our unfinished plates to the kitchen. I busy myself by cleaning the space and scold myself yet again.
Why do I have to always push him harder than he’s willing?
He gives an inch and I end up taking a mile.
Switching off the lights, I make my way to the bedroom and like the first night, he’s working on his laptop in the balcony. Only this time, I’m conflicted to disturb him, unable to judge his mood. Instead, I enter the bathroom and get ready for bed.
He hasn’t moved when I slide under the covers. The bedside lamps shining in the otherwise dark room allows me to gaze at him while I lie on my side. The glow of the laptop screen reveals his profile and as if he can sense my presence, our eyes meet across the small distance.
My breathing accelerates and I hold his gaze, wishing I could read his mind. Hoping I could take away the pain he felt his entire childhood. However, I’m no better.
Because in the end, I will be leaving him behind too.
Chapter Forty
BIANCA
The bright sunlight pouring through the windows jerks me awake. The rumpled bedsheet and the lingering smoky scent of Dash is the only proof he slept last night. I check the time on the bedside clock and notice it’s eight in the morning.
Damn. I must have not heard the alarm.
Last night’s conversation is still heavy on my mind as I rise from the bed, stretching my arms and legs until I feel marginally human. I’m distracted by the thought of the impending dinner tonight with my parents, when something from the corner of my eye catches my attention.
A handwritten note sits on the nightstand, trapped under my phone. Curious, I pick it up, my eyes widening when I finish reading Dash’s message.
Our court appointment is today.
Be ready at twelve in the afternoon.
I’ll be there to pick you up from the apartment.
What the fuck? The arrogant bastard didn’t even sign his name below. Yeah, because that’s the part I should be focusing on at this moment—his manners.
Getting married today? Hell no. Didn’t we decide on tomorrow? How dare he change it without discussing it with me first? My parents are going to be pissed yet again if I tell them I got married without informing them, just like my engagement. It’s like Dash is doing it all on purpose. He’s been steamrolling our arrangement right from the beginning like a controlling fuck.
But does a day early make a difference? Am I making a big deal out of nothing?my rational side whispers. Of course, I am not. It’s merely the underlying fact that Dash cannot continue to make all the decisions. I let the annoyed and inconvenienced side of me win.
I’m fuming as I dial his number and he picks up on the second ring.
“Kitten, I’m in a meeting,” he says as a greeting, sounding occupied. I hear murmurs revealing he’s in a room full of people.
“I read your note.”
“And?”
God, give me strength. “May I ask why?”
“No.”
I glance at the ceiling, counting to five while trying not to snap.
“We were going to see how it went with my parents. This was supposed to be the last resort,” I remind him, in a high-pitched voice because he clearly forgot that tiny detail.
“I thought us marrying was the whole point of our deal.”
