Chapter 12 Emily
I smile so hard my cheeks hurt as Andrew and I step into the car, waving at the small group of guests still lingering outside. The second the door shuts behind me, my whole body relaxes.
The car starts to move, and I slump into the seat, letting out a long breath. “Thank God. I thought that was never going to end.”
Andrew chuckles softly, but there’s tension in his voice. “Yeah, I’m relieved too.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “I’m sorry about what happened back there.”
I turn to him, my brows furrowing. I know exactly what he’s referring to—Daniel. The way he stormed in, full of rage and whiskey, ruining what little joy we’d managed to scrape together for this sham of a wedding.
My stomach clenches at the memory of his voice, his wild eyes, the accusations he threw at Andrew.
“You couldn’t have known,” I say quietly. But even as I say the words, I can’t shake the lingering embarrassment. Most of the guests were Andrew’s family, his friends. Watching it all unfold, watching Daniel hurl his drunken anger at his own brother, was humiliating.
“I should have,” Andrew mutters, his tone sharp. “It’s Daniel. I should’ve known he’d pull something like that.”
I glance at him, noticing the way his jaw tightens, his fingers curling against his knee. He’s upset. Maybe even more upset than I am.
“I’m just glad it’s over,” I admit, letting my head fall back against the seat. “It was beyond embarrassing.”
Andrew exhales roughly, his frustration barely concealed. “He embarrassed you. On our day.” His voice is low, filled with an emotion I can’t quite place.
“He embarrassed both of us,” I correct, though I can’t deny how raw it felt. How personal. This wedding, this deal, was supposed to be business. But it didn’t feel like business when Daniel barged in, all fury and accusations. It felt like a betrayal .
Daniel and I were supposed to get married. He was the one who left me, and now here I am, married to his brother. It’s hard not to feel a twinge of guilt, even though I’d pick Andrew any day. Daniel just proved it today, what a mistake it would have been to get married to him.
“It’s over. We move forward,” Andrew says after a while. “That’s all we can do.”
I look at him, surprised by the calm certainty in his words. “Just like that?”
He meets my gaze, his expression firm. “Just like that.”
“You’re a lot calmer than I thought you’d be,” I say, watching him carefully.
He shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smile. “I’m used to handling things like this.”
He’s right though. There’s no point in dwelling on what happened. We have a lot to do. Now the Riviera group can start recovering. Excitement courses through me. I can’t wait to get started on the renovations.
The upgrades, the plans I’ve had to put on hold for so long. It’s finally going to happen.
The car slows down in front of the gate before it slides open. We’re home.
Andrew steps out and holds the door open for me. I gather the folds of my dress, careful not to let the fabric drag as I step out onto the driveway.
“Welcome home,” he says at the door, stepping aside to let me enter first.
As I enter, the reality of our lives hit me. A year. One year of living together, working together, being married in name only.
Bruno and bear run around us in circles, their large paws skidding across the wooden floor. They bark, tails wagging as they circle around us in a happy frenzy. We both laugh .
Andrew crouches down to pet them, his expression softening as Bear licks his hand. “I think they’ve missed us more than anyone else today.”
I smile, reaching down to pat Bruno, who was eagerly nuzzling against my legs. “At least we know who the real welcoming committee is.”
Andrew stands up, brushing off his hands. “I can already tell they’re going to follow you around like shadows. They’ve got a thing for people who smell nice.”
I laugh at that, but the ease between us is fleeting. As we stand in the entryway, tension sprouts between us. Now what?
“Do you want to grab something to eat or just call it a night?” Andrew asks.
I shake my head. “I think I’ll just call it a night. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah,” he says, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he nods. “It certainly has.”
With that, I start to head upstairs to my room, the sound of Bruno and Bear padding behind me fading as I climb the stairs.
I make my way to the suite Andrew showed me when I first moved my things in. The room is warm and inviting, but there’s still that undercurrent of unfamiliarity.
I catch my reflection in the mirror as I start to take off my veil and dress. I look like a bride but I don’t feel like anyone’s wife. Standing in front of the mirror in my white lace bra and matching panties, I can’t help but wonder how the night would have unfolded had we married for love.
I close my eyes and imagine Andrew standing behind me, hands wrapped around my waist, his lips whispering sweet words.
I can almost feel the touch of his hands, his lips grazing my skin as he pulls me closer, the electric charge between us is undeniable. Dampness gathers in my panties and an ache forms between my legs.
I imagine Andrew’s hand snaking between my legs, his fingers running over my soaked panties, teasing …
A soft moan escapes my lips, jerking me back to the present. I open my eyes, startled by the sound and by the thoughts swirling in my mind. What am I even doing? This is insane.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, to calm the racing thoughts. My reflection stares back at me, flushed, eyes gleaming with desire. For a man who was a stranger less than two months ago. A man I shouldn’t be lusting after.
“Get it together, Emily,” I whisper to myself, shaking my head as if to clear the thoughts away.
It’s the stress of the day. That’s the only reason I’m lusting after Andrew. The wedding, Daniel’s outburst, the tension in the air, it was all too much. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be well rested and back to my senses.
I take off my underclothes and step into the shower. The hot water runs over me, washing away the tension, but my mind refuses to fully relax.
Stepping out of the shower, I dry off, slipping into a nightgown before crawling into the massive bed. The sheets are cool against my skin. As I sink into them, I reach for my phone and call my mother.
“How’s Dad?” I ask.
“He’s stable,” she replies, her voice reassuring. “The fever hasn’t come back. He’s resting.”
I exhale, relief washing over me. “That’s good. Thanks, Mom.”
“Don’t worry about us, sweetheart,” she says. “You just focus on settling in.”
Settling in. I glance around the room that still feels foreign. But I don’t dwell on it. Instead, my thoughts drift to Monday—the day Andrew and I start working together. The idea of diving into the work we have ahead fills me with a strange kind of excitement.
I can’t wait to see the changes, to start taking charge and making things happen. That alone makes this marriage worth it.
I say goodnight to my mother and set my phone on the nightstand, turning over in bed, my thoughts still buzzing but slowly fading. Eventually, exhaustion overtakes me, and I drift off into sleep .
A sudden noise jerks me awake in the middle of the night. My heart races as I sit up, straining to listen. There’s a sound—faint but unmistakable. Like someone screaming.
I throw off the covers and slip out of bed, my feet quiet against the cold floor. The noises are coming from down the hall. My pulse quickens as I creep toward the source, each step slow and cautious.
I stop outside Andrew’s door, my breath held.
It’s coming from his room.
The sounds are muffled now, but I can hear them clearly—low, guttural noises, almost like someone fighting in their sleep. Panic grips me for a moment. Is he hurt? Is someone in there with him?
I press my ear against the door and realize that Andrew is having a nightmare.
The sounds grow quieter, fading into silence. I wait, listening, but the house falls still once more. I pull back, stepping away from the door, my heart still pounding in my chest.
Should I check on him? No. It seems like an invasion of privacy. I turn and tiptoe back to my room.
Back in bed, I lie awake for a while, the image of Andrew—strong, composed Andrew—fighting something in his sleep sticking with me.
***
I wake up feeling unusually well-rested. I stretch, glancing at the clock. It’s nine. I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.
After a quick shower, I throw on a comfortable pair of jeans and a loose blouse, feeling relaxed as I head downstairs. The smell of coffee reaches me first, followed by the rustle of paper coming from the kitchen.
As I walk in, I spot Andrew at the table, his hair slightly ruffled, looking surprisingly casual as he sips his coffee and reads the paper.
The sight of him at ease and unguarded, makes my face heat up, a blush creeping across my cheeks as I recall the thoughts that had run through my head the night before. I push them away quickly, trying to focus on the moment .
“Good morning,” I say, grabbing a mug and pouring myself a cup of coffee. The rich aroma fills the room, and I take a sip, enjoying the warmth that spreads through me.
“Morning,” Andrew replies, glancing up from his paper. “How did you sleep?”
“Really well, actually,” I say, feeling the blush deepen. I busy myself by stirring my coffee, hoping he doesn't notice. “How about you?”
“I slept fairly well.”
But I remember the noises from last night, the sounds of his nightmare. I hesitate, unsure if I should bring it up. Then, before I can stop myself, I ask, “About last night. I heard some noises. Were you having a nightmare?”
His face closes off immediately, the easygoing expression replaced by a guarded look. “It’s nothing,” he says, his tone cool and dismissive. He takes another sip of coffee, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation.
Suits me. I sip my coffee, wondering what to talk about. “So, how do you usually spend your Sundays?”
He relaxes a little, his shoulders easing. “Most Sundays, I have lunch with my parents. It’s sort of a tradition.”
I take another sip of coffee, thinking about my own Sundays. “I usually spend Sundays at home too.” It’s the one day where I can spend time with my Dad without feeling rushed. I read and talk to him about work.
Andrew is quiet for a moment, then he says, “I was hoping you’d come with me to my parents’ house today.”
I pause, feeling a wave of conflict. Sunday is sacred to me. But I also know Andrew’s parents will expect me to be there. I’m his wife now, at least in the eyes of his family.
“They’ll expect to see you there,” he adds, watching me carefully.
I chew on my bottom lip, thinking it over. “What if I visit my mother in the morning, and then I join you for lunch at your parents’ house?” I offer, hoping it’ll be a good compromise .
Andrew shrugs. “That works,”
He leans back in his chair, looking at me with an intensity that makes me feel like he’s trying to understand something about me. “I could come with you to see your mother, if you want,” he offers unexpectedly.
I shake my head quickly, a little too quickly. “No, that’s okay. It’s just a quiet thing I do with her. A girls day in.”