Chapter 14 Arabelle
Arabelle
The moment I step into the opulent foyer of Laila’s of New York, I’m immediately struck by the luxurious marble floors beneath my feet and the intricately lofty ceilings, with a multi-tiered chandelier hanging from above.
A massive abstract water feature dominates the center of the area, its cascading streams creating a soothing ambiance to the space.
I have never seen something so sophisticated.
As I approach the hostess’s podium, I can’t help but notice the young, dark-haired woman in a black-and-white uniform. The name Laila’s of New York, written in large, shimmering gold letters, looms behind her.
Many times, I’ve wanted to come here, but it’s nearly impossible to get a reservation. The last time I checked, the wait list was seven months long. It made me wonder how much power Florian actually has to pull this off in less than a week.
“How may I help you, ma’am?” the hostess asks, her beautiful smile on display.
“I’m meeting someone,” I reply as butterflies flutter in my stomach.
She opens the reservation book. “Name?”
“Ms. Williamson. I’m here to meet Florian Larsson.”
“Oh yes!” She closes the book. “Ms. Williamson, Mr. Larsson said you would be joining him tonight. Giancarlo will take your wrap and clutch.” She points to the young man standing a few feet away. “You can pick them up at the end of your night.”
“Thank you.”
I remove the black cashmere wrap and hand it to the young man along with my black, diamond-encrusted clutch. He tags both items with my name and then disappears into a room off to the left of the hostess station.
“Let me take you to your table.” She grabs a menu from behind the podium. “You’re in the private dining room. Right this way.”
“Thank you.”
Stepping into the dining room, I’m greeted by the soft glow of candlelight dancing off the crystal chandeliers above.
With a deep breath, I square my shoulders and lift my chin, refusing to let the anxiety churning in my stomach overpower my confidence.
I’m about to meet my future husband. The man known as Beast.
Whispers of his alleged connections to Swedish organized crime have been floating around, but so far, none of it has been substantiated.
The papers suggest a connection, but they also mention that his name originates from his involvement in the corporate world.
I don’t know what to believe. I’ve lost any hope that my father wouldn’t get me involved with someone who would put me in danger because he doesn’t care.
As long as he gets what he wants, I now know he doesn’t give a shit about me.
I push down the negative thoughts intruding on my night. I have to make the most out of it. He’s going to be my husband. I’ve signed my life away, so there’s no going back now.
Despite my nerves, I can’t help but take a sharp breath in awe of the vast, beautiful, and elegant space. The dim lighting creates a romantic mood. The black tablecloths draped over the round dining tables contrast elegantly with the tall crystal vases brimming with exquisite white roses.
It’s absolutely breathtaking.
We maneuver through a crowded dining room, the clatter of dishes and chatter of voices filling the air. The mouthwatering smells are impossible to ignore. Although I’m training, it’s not often I get to dine in one of the world’s most exclusive restaurants. Tonight, I definitely plan to indulge.
As we approach the private dining room, I touch the hostess’s arm, signaling her to stop before she opens the door. I need a little extra time to compose myself.
“Could you give me a minute before we go in?”
“Sure thing.” She smiles, holding our menus against her chest. “Let me guess, blind date?”
“Something like that.” I return her smile. “How did you know?”
“You’re a nervous ball of energy,” she says, chuckling. “I can feel it from here. Just take deep breaths. Remember that you’re a beautiful woman, and he’s the lucky one, and everything will be fine. At least, that’s what my mama always told me in these situations.”
I laugh and can already feel the nerves start to dissipate. “Your mom sounds like a wise woman.”
“She was.” A forlorn look crosses her face before she clears her throat, and then her smile returns, though it no longer reaches her eyes. “Ready?”
“Yes. And thank you.”
She winks and pushes the door open, and it’s like I’ve stepped into a fairytale. I gasp, and so does the hostess.
What the hell? It’s just like my dressing room.
Everywhere I look, vibrant red roses adorn the room.
As I enter, my eyes are drawn to the sight of rose petals scattered across the pristine, white marble floor.
The room is beautifully decorated with lit candles and large bouquets of long-stem red roses in clear crystal vases, creating a romantic ambiance.
In the back of the room, there’s a glass table adorned with a blanket of red roses, their familiar sweet fragrance filling the air.
Glass vases with flickering candles decorate the top of the table, casting a warm, yellow glow, illuminating the entire room.
My breath catches in my throat, leaving me momentarily speechless. Behind the table stands the man who will be my husband. The man who made my heart race with excitement when I first laid eyes on him.
As I take the first step toward the rest of my life, my heart rate quickens, reminiscent of the first time we met.
I’m feeling a mix of confusion and uncertainty at the moment, to be honest. I’m a twenty-two-year-old woman who has never had a serious relationship, and now I’m expected to marry someone named Beast, who possesses the looks of any woman’s wet dream.
I’ve hit the jackpot when it comes to my future husband. With his tall stature and captivating presence, he possesses that irresistible aura women are drawn to. He still exudes that rugged beauty vibe, but what unsettles me is the mystery behind all of this.
Standing at least six foot three, possibly four, with tousled, dirty-blond hair, his cobalt-colored eyes captivate me, drawing me closer like I’m in a trance. Among all the women he could have chosen, he picked me. There has to be a reason.
As my eyes linger on him, a sudden rush of heat engulfs my cheeks.
However, I push aside my embarrassment and continue to examine him.
If I’m going to marry the man, I have every right to look at him as he devours me with his intense stare.
He doesn’t seem to mind, anyway, as a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
He steps from behind the table, his dark-blue slacks clinging to his muscular legs. His baby-blue button-down shirt, undone at the collar, reveals a glimpse of his tattoos, adding a hint of sinful allure to his appearance.
The butterflies that were fluttering earlier have taken full-blown flight now. The feeling has shifted from nervousness to an overwhelming desire.
His gaze explores every inch of me, his eyes moving up and down my frame.
I aimed for a sophisticated yet understated look tonight.
My choice was a black cocktail dress that exposed my shoulders and reached my calves, hugging my slender figure and modest bust with precision.
I’m glad I chose the four-inch black strappy stilettos.
They add an extra touch of elegance to my outfit, and I need all the height I can get.
“It’s nice to see you again, Arabelle.” He kisses me on the cheek and then pulls out one of the chairs. “Please have a seat.”
I give a small nod and take a seat. “Thank you.”
He pulls out the other chair and settles down next to me, creating a sense of closeness as my arm and thigh brush his. There’s no space between us, and I’m actually okay with it.
The man has a jawline that looks like it’s been chiseled from marble.
His loud laughter resonates throughout the room. I would never believe a man could get any more beautiful just by a carefree laugh if I hadn’t seen it for myself.
“Did I say that out loud?”
My face flushes with embarrassment.
“You did.” He reaches for the bottle of wine that’s on the table. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
I’m not much of a drinker, especially since I was drugged, but I think I might need some liquid courage to figure out why this man wants to marry me. He has the power and money to have any woman, but he’s chosen to be with me.
“Sure. But just so you know, I’m not much of a wine drinker. Or really any alcohol.”
Anger flickers in his eyes, and before I can question him about his change in mood, he shuts it down, and a charming smile graces his face.
“Are you scared you might fall head over heels in love with me?”
With humor in his voice, I know he’s trying to lighten the mood and distract me from his mood change. This is an odd position for me to be in, so I’m happy he’s trying to make it less stressful.
I chuckle. “Something like that.”
He pours a glass of wine for each of us. “One can’t hurt.” I can’t resist melting when his intense eyes lock onto mine. It feels like he can see right through me. “Let’s make a toast.”
“And what are we toasting?”
“New beginnings.” He raises his drink.
With a raised glass, I toast to “new beginnings” and take a sip of wine.
“But I have to ask…” I sit my glass on the table. “This question has been on my mind since my father brought this arrangement to my attention.”
“You can ask me anything, Arabelle.” He places his wine glass on the table. “Nothing is off limits if it’s appropriate for this setting. You deserve answers to all of your questions.”
“Why?”
He smiles, and it seems genuine. Not forced. “Could you please be more specific?”
“Why do you want this marriage? I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. I’m sure you’re a great guy, but don’t you think all this is kind of weird?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
It’s definitely weird.
“I need you to be honest with me. This has got to be as strange for you as it is for me.”
“I’ll always be honest with you, Arabelle, even when you don’t want me to be.”