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Our gazes remain locked in a silent war as I wait patiently for her to either deny or simply walk. I gloat thinking I have all the power, but I fume when she crushes it with a finality.
“You’re right… somewhat,” she says, smirking. “I’m still going with my plan, but I didn’t come here for you. I was going to ask Justin, an idea you gave me, by the way. But making you jealous… Well, that was just the icing on the cake.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m still going to ask him.”
“The fuck you will,” I growl, my mood darkening. “Come. Here.”
“No.” She shakes her head and turns around to leave.
Once again I’m thrown back to the night I saw her for the first time in my bedroom and then watched her leave with Niall—just like right now to someone else. An urgency like never before spreads through me and every single thought turns to dust except the thought of not letting her walk away.
“I wasn’t jealous seeing you with him, Bianca.” My guttural and raw voice stills her just as she reaches the hallway. “I was in pain.”
I cross the distance and take her hand in mine, slowly turning her around to face me. Tilting her head back, I cup her cheek and let it all out. “Every single smile, every word, every touch that you gave him freely made me see and bleed red. It was a constant battle inside my head to not care, to not stare and not have you all to myself.”
Everything I say is the truth, except I wasn’t talking about Justin.
And she doesn’t even realize it.
“Dash.”
“But I still can’t marry you,” I utter. “Even if it’s fake and a sham.”
Chapter Seventeen
BIANCA
His rejection—once more—douses cold water all over my burning body.
The splash, stinging twice as painful.
I don’t understand why this refusal is hurting more now than the last time. It doesn’t matter that I was prepared. Yet it keeps burning me from the inside out.
All because of his overwhelming confession.
The raw honesty leaves me too stunned to speak except his name. I sought after the truth, chased it ruthlessly the whole night and instead of feeling victory, I feel loss. Yeah, he admitted to being jealous and I should be reveling in it, but the emotion it held was so much more.
Or maybe I’m just imagining it.
This is Dash. Cold and unemotional. It has to be another one of his mind games.
He continues to stare intensely, watching my face for a reaction, but I slowly back away, making his hand fall to the side. The moment breaks, a wall building between us, and with it comes his perfectly practiced mask.
I hate how easily he puts himself back together and buries his emotions like a flip of a switch. The only evidence of the last few minutes is the wrinkling of his suit and hair in disarray from when I pulled on the strands.
While I’m still struggling to erase it and calm my wildly beating heart.
With each second, his iciness starts soaking into me, making goosebumps rise on every surface of my skin where he savagely left his marks in places that are still throbbing.
Even if I want to forget all about tonight, I can’t because I'm going to be feeling him for days. If it was his intention, he succeeded.
My body keeps tingling whereas my mind is rapidly accepting the consequence of his denial and the only reason I came here in the first place. Desolation sinks in that despite everything going my way, it didn’t lead to the conclusion I ached for. I’m once again stuck with the saddest and painful reality of marrying for real.
I feel so silly for pinning all my hope on Dash.
But mostly, I’m disappointed in myself.
