38. Chloe
Monday
I wake up in Derek’s warm embrace, with my head on his bare chest, his arms are wrapped around me, and I’m thinking that waking up in my dream house sleeping on the chest of a hot guy… it’s quite a trip. I refuse to let the question bouncing around the edges of my consciousness take center stage, knowing it’s got something to do with the curious way I keep waking up cuddled with him.
I blink the haziness away as I stare out the giant window in my periphery. It’s a blustery, windy morning.
For the most part, Derek left me be the rest of the day yesterday.
I tried to work, setting my laptop up in the office down the hall from the master bedroom, but there wasn’t much to do after my marathon work session of the day before, so I mostly did some online “Steele” snooping until I tore myself away from it. There was a particularly upsetting Reddit thread full of comments from people who had things to say about how crooked the family is and how they ruin the lives of anyone who dares to try to get in their way. The threads included disgruntled ex-employees, mostly. They said some not-nice things about Derek’s mom. Some very blunt things about Thaddeus getting what he deserved. He would throw tantrums in restaurants. He didn’t take well to his advances being rebuffed from women. He was described as arrogant, pompous, and out of touch with reality. He was compared to Joe Pesci’s character in the movie Casino. I dragged myself out of that unpleasant wormhole and then spent the rest of the day curled up in the perfect reading chair in the corner with the sexy wolf shifter romance instead.
I moved to the bed when I got to the last chapter at around eleven o’clock. Derek was already there, reading his novel on one side of the bed with an open bag of peanut M&Ms beside him. I tried not to react to the fresh bottle of water and bag of mini white chocolate Reese’s peanut butter cups laying on the table on the empty side of the bed. I didn’t dig into them or the yellow bag of M&Ms, despite the sudden sugar craving.
The giant bed proved big enough for me to simply stay on my side. Him being here ruined my plan to finish the last chapter and epilogue in bed the way I usually do. Alone. I always save the end of a book for when I’m alone in bed, so I can read uninterrupted and also… in case I cry. Not to mention how not easy it would be to focus on reading while beside my stalker. And that’s down to multiple reasons, including the fact that the sight of a hot, muscled guy reading would set panties on fire if I posted a pic in my favorite online book club.
If we were together I’d probably have tried to playfully steal some of his candy and stuff it into my shirt, hoping to distract him from his reading. Or ask him to read me a sexy passage from my book aloud. But we aren’t really together, so I turned the light off on my side of the bed.
“My light bothering you?” he asked softly.
“Nope. It never will bug me,” I answered and then wanted to kick myself because that made it sound like I was anticipating a lot of instances like those in our future, like I was letting him know he could feel free to read in bed beside me any time for the rest of our lives.
To blow off my mortification, I went downstairs and made another sandwich. And I sent Alannah my ‘proof of life’ message. She gave me a thumbs up reply immediately and as I was wondering what she might have planned for tomorrow, Derek showed up, read over my shoulder, and stole half of my sandwich from my plate, kissed my neck, and walked off.
I wandered the main floor for half an hour, staring out windows, snooping in the drawers, cupboards, and closets, and when I got back upstairs, the light was off, and he was on his stomach in bed.
And the thought occurred that I could just leave. Just walk out.
I didn’t leave. Because what would the fallout be? I got into bed beside him and stayed as far from him as possible without dangling off the bed. The next hour or maybe hours were spent thinking about how Adam didn’t want me to visit his grandmother. I was thinking about his pedophile uncle dying in jail. And I was thinking about all the things I know about Derek so far. All the things I never know about Adam.
And I woke up like this. On his side of the bed. Snuggled with him.
I’m about to roll away when I become aware of something. A ring on my finger.
He didn’t!
I lift my hand and stare at it.
He did. He slipped this on my finger while I was asleep.
“Happy wedding day,” he says sleepily as I take in the giant but tasteful, beautiful oval halo rock on my hand. Much larger than the ring that used to sit on this finger, but tasteful, still. Not obnoxious. Not that it matters.
“Do you like it? The wedding ring that goes with it is an eternity band that’ll slide right under the diamond.” He touches my ring finger. “That’s how long our marriage will last. Until eternity.” He squeezes me tighter, growling a reverberating Mm as his lips press against my forehead.
I twist to look up at his sleepy, sexy face and before I’m able to form another thought, he says, “I’ll go get coffee while you shower. I’ll get ready in one of the other bathrooms. Already moved my shaving stuff over. Your dress should be here by nine. I took the liberty of messaging Frank last night to tell him we’re getting married today and that you’re taking a couple weeks off and when you’re back, you’re the boss. Not to worry, he’ll look after your company for you.” He rolls me to my back, kisses me again, and then rolls off me.
I’m left lying on my back absolutely stunned. God, what does Frank think of me right now?
“I’ll send Alannah your proof of life text for you. For reasons I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on, I’ll hang onto your phone for the morning.” He leaves the room and my eyes dart to the nightstand. There’s the book. My bottle of water. The bag of peanut butter cups. No phone.
Panic flares in my gut. Does he know about our conversation yesterday?
When I get out of the shower and into the walk-in closet, which has a cute circa 1950s retro dressing table with stool and lights, there’s already a cup of coffee and a domed platter waiting for me. While lifting it to find the oatmeal, bowl of berries, and tub of yogurt underneath I spot garment bags hanging behind the dressing table with a note attached to the mirror.
I set the dome lid back on the platter and pull the note from the bag. It’s written in handwriting so perfect, Derek could handwrite the wedding invitations himself and it’d look like they were done by a calligrapher.
Chloe,
Dress arrived early. I had Nicola procure 3 dress options from your wedding Pinterest board. She sent over five pairs of wedding shoe options and a selection of head pieces and other accessories. My sister’s hair and makeup girl will be here at nine thirty. I’ll meet you downstairs at eleven. Don’t worry. There will be NO bad luck for us with me seeing you before the ceremony. I made a charitable donation this morning to cancel that out.
Can’t wait to marry you.
Love,
Derek
My heart sinks as I drop down onto the chair at the dressing table and look at myself in the mirror.
My wedding day.
Against my will.
What the fuck will Alannah do? She knows my phone is bugged so she won’t say anything via text, which is good, but not knowing what she has planned has anxiety climbing through my veins like a fungus.
I can’t do this. I can’t marry Derek Steele and live like this. Live not knowing when my stalker is going to snap and snap my neck like a twig. Not knowing when he’ll lash out and hurt someone I care about.
I now know that marrying Adam wasn’t right for me, but I can’t marry this man who I barely know, who has shown me things about his personality that are frankly frightening. Marriage should be based on love, commitment, mutual respect, but also… consent.
Derek doesn’t care about my consent. He only cares about his ‘goals’. Until when? When will his goal post get moved?
At eleven minutes after eleven, Derek comes into the bedroom where I’m pacing. I know I’m late, but I’m in a dither. On the verge of a panic attack. I’m running through imaginary scenarios in my head.
He stops cold, mouth dropping, eyes blazing.
“My beautiful bride. Fuck, I’m a lucky guy.”
He drops to his knees and wraps his arms around my waist. “This might seem a little late but… will you marry me, Chloe?”
Stunned, I say nothing.
He’s in head-to-toe black. Black tux. Black shirt. Black bowtie. He looks like every woman’s fantasy come to life.
I’m in my dream wedding dress. I don’t know how the now infamous Nicola pulled off getting it here so quickly, fitting me so perfectly, but once I put it on and saw myself in the mirror, I didn’t have the heart to take it off. The one and only wedding dress I’ll ever wear? That remains to be seen. The floor-length, feathery, flowing, white cloud of perfection fits like it was bespoke.
My hair is up in a twist with just a few pearl embellishments on the sides. I’m not wearing a veil. My pearly white heels are perfection. I’ve got on a white lace garter with a shot of blue ribbon through it and Grace’s stylist, who was lovely and seemed to have a good idea of my predicament judging by the way she didn’t seem to take my somber mood to heart and didn’t inundate me with questions you’d expect a hair and makeup pro to ask a blushing bride, said the hair embellishments aren’t new as they’ve been in her inventory a while so could be classed as the “old”. Since the dress and shoes are “new” she presented me with a pair of diamond earrings that are my “borrowed” courtesy of Grace Steele.
“Not gonna answer?” Derek asks, looking up at me.
“What can I say, Derek? That you’re out of your mind? That it’s not a real proposal if you’re forcing me to marry you to keep my loved ones safe? I think it’s better that I say nothing.”
“I guess I deserve that,” he says as he rises and takes my left hand into his before dropping a kiss on my freshly manicured hand. He smiles as his thumb strokes my ring finger. “Though, instead of asking you to marry me I’ll amend it and give you a different proposal. No… don’t get excited, you’re still marrying me, but I propose this: give this a chance. Give me a chance. Let me show you how real I am. I want to be your husband. I want you to be mine. Only mine. Permanently. I want that more than anything. That’s why I’ve so decidedly pursued you. I’ve never been surer about anything, Chloe. Let’s do this. Jump in with me. The water’s fine. I promise.”
I stare dumbfounded.
“We’d better go,” he says without looking upset that I’ve said nothing in response. “There are people waiting.”