Chapter 16
DANIELLE
“Annul the marriage?” Blake tilts his head. “Why?”
“Because this is fucking stupid.” I smooth down my hair. “You’re a dick, Blake, and I was crazy to think otherwise. I want out.”
Blake’s eye twitches, his mouth opening and closing as he huffs. “You can’t.”
I snort, rising to my feet. “I can. And I will.”
“No, I mean, you can’t.” Blake runs a hand through his hair, gnawing on his cheek. “The contract has a non-annulment clause.”
My stomach plummets to the floor, and ice seeps into my veins. I sway unsteadily, and Blake guides me to a chair, his eyes filling with concern.
“Please tell me you’re lying,” I whisper, clutching his sleeves in my fists. “Blake, seriously.”
Blake shakes his head, all animosity gone from his eyes. “I’m sorry, I thought you read it all…”
“I did! Where is it? Show me!” I push past him, climbing the stairs two at a time to my room as Blake curses behind me.
This can’t be true.
My mother broke her heart on the phone to me and begged me to get the marriage annulled.
I fall to my feet, dragging papers out of my desk that I’d neatly arranged earlier so they fly in the air.
“No. It has to be wrong.”
Blake grips the doorframe behind me, and I locate the contract, my breath seizing in my throat.
I scan it so quickly the words blur before me, and I almost yelp when I find it.
Non-annulment.
There it is, in black and white, it’s stupid curly font taunting me as I clutch my chest.
Why didn’t I see this?
“No!”
Blake sighs and walks away, leaving me to stare at the contract in disbelief.
“Blake!” I shriek, commanding him back to my room. “You have to help me; we need to do something.”
Blake studies me, tugging his shirt open at his neck. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Danielle.”
In his hand, I spy an entire bottle of vodka, unopened. “Drinking isn’t going to solve anything!”
Blake shrugs. “I don’t need it to. Look, I know you’re angry, but you said you’d read it all. You even added your caveats.”
He’s right.
The beautiful bastard is correct.
It would be bearable if he hadn’t been such an ass to me, but this? This I can’t cope with for five years.
“Danielle, go to bed.”
I whirl around, my eyes stinging with tears. “Blake, I can’t do this.”
Blake sighs, rolling up his shirt sleeves. “I’m not ecstatic either, Danielle.”
“But this means nothing to you! You don’t care about anything.”
Blake crosses the room. “Is this because of Issac? I told you, do what you like.” Blake throws his hands in the air, his eyes glinting.
“It’s got nothing to do with Issac!” I hiss, scowling at him.
Blake unscrews the vodka, taking an unhealthy slug from it. “Then what’s your problem?”
I stare at him, my fists clenched by my sides. “You!”
“Get a grip, for fuck’s sake, Danielle,” Blake snaps. His navy eyes search mine, and for a moment, I’m lost in them.
Only for a moment.
“Why are you still so tense after fucking my best friend last night?” Blake steps closer to me, and my heart slides down into my stomach. “Didn’t he do it as well as I did?”
I shake my head, shoving my fists against his chest. “You’ve got no right to speak to me like this,” I whisper as his fingers grip my wrists.
“If we’re going to talk about rights, shouldn’t we be consummating the marriage tonight?” Blake lifts the vodka, shaking his head at me. “Look, I don’t want to upset you, but you’re being absurd.”
I take the vodka from his mouth, pushing him out of my bedroom. “If you don’t want to upset me, leave me and the vodka alone.”
Slamming the door in his face, I slide down it, tears cascading down my cheeks. “I should have said no,” I mutter to myself, wincing as I suck on the bottle.
Vodka is supposed to taste of nothing, but it is disgustingly strong. I don’t have any other option right now.
God, what a fucking mess.
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think many women would have said no,” Blake says from the other side of the door.
“Urgh, fuck off.”
“Well, you’ve got my vodka,” Blake reminds me, and I laugh bitterly.
“Tough.”
“Can we at least talk like civil adults?” Blake sighs, and I shake my head stubbornly.
Fuck him.
“Fine, be like this,” Blake growls, moving away from the door. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, wife.”
My tears come in full force then, and I drink until I almost gag, my gaze fixated on the moon through the window.
Five years.
Maybe I can get through this.
“No, I can’t,” I whisper to myself, relishing the tingling effect of the vodka in my tired body. “No amount of money is worth this.”
The house falls silent, and I finish the vodka, wondering why I don’t feel drunk.
I’ve just finished off a bottle of vodka; how the fuck am I standing?
Maybe I’m so upset I can’t get drunk.
There must be more vodka in here.
My bravado is preferable over the fear and anxiety of the fake marriage, so I yank open my door.
“Vodka?” I call out, snickering to myself. “Come to Mommy.”
The stairs seem to move as I walk down them, despite my fingers gripping the rail tightly.
The kitchen is bare. The cupboards have a few rice packets, some tins of soup, and the fridge has steak and butter.
How does Blake survive on this?
Where’s the goddamn bread?
“I want toast.”
I search through the cupboards, almost smashing a pile of plates in the process.
There’s no bread.
“What kind of fucking mansion is this?” I mutter, spying a bottle of vodka on the top shelf. “Fuck.”
Scanning the kitchen, I find the only available stool barely able to move due to its weight.
I have to move it, though, or I won’t be drinking any more vodka tonight.
Gritting my teeth, I try to drag it over the tiles, but the sound is deafening.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Blake crosses his arms from the top of the stairs, his gaze hardening as he takes in the scene.
“You,” I mutter, pointing at him. “Come and make yourself useful.”
Blake does a double-take, refusing to move. “What are you doing?” he repeats, a smile playing on his lips.
He’s wearing grey shorts and nothing else, and it’s taking everything I have to control Drunk Danielle.
“I need your height,” I say, swaying. “Come on, Blake.”
Blake moves down the stairs effortlessly, his muscles moving beautifully beneath his olive skin. “What do you want?” Blake eyes the cupboard behind me, reaching for the vodka with ease. “You want this?”
“Uh-huh,” I say, reaching for the bottle unsuccessfully.
Blake holds it out of my reach, his gaze pinning me to the spot.
“Only if you share.”