18. Emily
The closer we drive to the venue where my father is hosting the banquet, the harder it is to breathe.
It’s been a month since I moved to the penthouse. A month since Liam walked away from us. A month of shoving my feelings down so I could tolerate Ryan’s presence.
And each day has been just as hard as the last.
Tonight, my engagement will be announced to the underground world. I’m hoping with everything in me that Liam won’t be here. I won’t be able to handle seeing his face while knowing I’m to marry someone else.
“I. Don’t. Want. You”
His words echo in the back of my mind. Cutting deeper into me as if he’d just said them.
I need to remind myself that he walked away. That he left me. He ripped my heart out and threw it in the dirt without hesitation. Without any sign of regret.
I meant nothing to him.
Ryan sits next to me with his face buried in his phone – as usual. Aside from talking about himself nonstop, he’s pleasant to be around.
Ugh.
I don’t want to be with someone pleasant . I want to be with someone who lights a fire within me that is so bright, you can see it from outer space.
I want someone who needs me as much as I need them. Someone who takes the very breath from my lungs and breathes it back in.
Only that will never happen. Not for me.
I watch the city lights fly past my darkened window. My fingers wring anxiously with each passing mile.
“Why are you so fidgety?” Ryan says, startling me.
I flatten my palms on my knees and look over to him.
“Oh, I’m just excited for tonight.” My cheeks burn from how wide my fake smile is.
He studies my face – his completely emotionless - and then nods in satisfaction before turning his eyes to his phone again.
His lack of attention makes it much easier to hide how I’m truly feeling. I can play the pretty trophy on his arm if he wants me to. I can’t play the lovesick woman my dad thinks I’m going to be.
I could work harder to establish some kind of deeper connection, but I don’t want to. He also doesn’t seem to have much of an interest now that the arrangement is official.
The driver turns onto the private road toward the venue and my heart gallops in my chest.
It’s fine. Everything’s going to be. I’m fine.
My hand instinctually reaches up to wrap around the necklace I haven’t been able to take off.
I feel Ryan’s eyes on me and when I turn toward him, his stare is on my hand around the locket. It lingers for an uncomfortably silent moment before he meets my gaze.
I offer him a tight smile and then let my hand fall to my lap. My skin feels clammy, and I struggle to keep my breaths calm.
He continues to watch me, wordlessly.
Ryan has never asked me about the necklace, but he knows it’s different than the one I used to wear.
The car comes to a stop and Ryan’s door is opened by a young man in a black suit. Ryan clears his throat and then slides out. He holds his palm out for me to take and I do.
His skin lacks the rough texture of calluses that Liam has and another wave of sadness washes over me. I force the emotions down and smile up at Ryan as I slide out of the car.
He places a kiss on my temple and then positions his hand on the small of my back. Together, we stride inside the venue.
The ballroom is beautifully decorated with an array of white, gold, and black. A large crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the ceiling, giving the entire space a higher level of elegance. The women are dressed in floor-length gowns made of expensive fabrics. The men wear tailored black suits that either emphasize their muscular builds or large mid-sections. The staff wear white suits and carry silver trays of hors d'oeuvre or champagne.
Soft jazz music plays in the background amidst the quiet conversations and the clinking of glasses.
I discreetly scan the area for any sign of Liam and breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t see him.
A waiter walks up to us, and Ryan takes two glasses of champagne – offering me one.
“Thank you,” I say quietly with a dip of my chin. I sip on my drink; the crispness of the bubbles and the slight fruitiness help to distract my mind.
“Is everything okay?” Ryan asks, bringing the edge of his glass to his lips.
I look up into his eyes, which are filled with hesitant curiosity.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” I say with a slight raise of my brow.
He tips his head slightly and narrows his eyes.
“You’ve been acting like you’re seconds from bolting as soon as we got in the car.”
I place my hand on his biceps and give it a small squeeze.
“Everything is fine. I’m just excited about announcing our engagement.” I’m unsure how my voice remains unwavering, but I thank God it does.
He brings his hand to cup my cheek, bringing his face inches from mine.
“Good. Tonight is going to be perfect.”
His lips touch mine and I force my body to relax into his touch. We haven’t slept together and I’m dreading the day he expects that of me. At some point, I will need to accept that my body doesn’t belong to Liam anymore.
His lips are firm yet soft, but the kiss doesn’t make my heart race. It doesn’t make my head swim in a cloud of lust. My stomach doesn’t flutter like it does when someone else’s lips are on mine.
He let you go.
My spine tingles with awareness and I pull away from Ryan so quickly, I stumble back. He catches me by my arm and furrows his brows.
My head whips to the right and my eyes clash with Liam’s. His hazel eyes swim with rage before he schools his features. Bruises are splotched over just about every inch of his beautiful face. My heart threatens to burst out of my chest and run to him.
Oh God. He saw me kissing Ryan.
You owe him nothing. He pushed you to Ryan.
My mind and heart fight for control. Logically, I know kissing Ryan isn’t wrong. He’s supposed to be my husband. But emotionally, letting anyone but Liam touch me feels like a betrayal.
Liam snaps his gaze away from mine and strides to the open bar. My chest constricts and I swallow tightly.
“ Mo stór! You’re here.” My father’s voice cuts through the crowd. Clearing my throat, I straighten my dress and lean into Ryan’s side.
He wraps his arm around me and pulls me in closer.
A huge smile spreads over my da’s face when he sees us standing so close.
“Hi, Daid,“ I say quietly, and he pulls me into his arms. When he pulls away, he nods to Ryan.
“Evening, Ryan.”
“Evening Conor,” Ryan reaches out a hand which my father accepts. They shake firmly.
“Come. Come. Let’s have a seat and eat before we make the announcement. Emily, your mother is here. She’s at the table.”
Shit.
It’s been easy lying about how I’m feeling over the phone or text, but she’s going to take one look at me and know I’m full of shit.