Chapter-32🌜My husband is. gay?
William's POV
I come out of the restroom, and go back to our reception venue. I can't leave yet, I need to go back to do my duty of being the perfect 'trophy wife' as my dad has quoted.
I step inside the Grand Cloister, and see so many guests standing and talking in dollars. See this is the thing about rich people, they just want you to listen to what they have in mind.
Appreciate their crockery that they got especially from Turkey and tell them how glamourous their vintage John Galliano looks—emphasis on vintage. Hmm, their all time fav, taxation laws...
Ugh, I can't. Same boring old topics that I have heard a billion times when my dad has forced me into a gala. Because, again, my mom was out of town.
The guest list is different, people are new, the occasion is unique. But the atmosphere—still the same. I can hear this lady laughing on a dumbass joke this next-to-casket man has blurted out from his gold teeth on fucking politics.
Even their jokes revolve around the new mayor of NYC. Anyway, I roll my eyes and keep walking. There's a soft orchestra playing in the background, which apparently none of them is interested in, apart from the guests swaying with the rhythm on the designated dance floor.
Couples are scattered across the floor, moving like butter with their partners in their arms. Gliding, swaying then rhythmically stepping back and forth, on the delicate melody of the violins.
But a certain couple catches my eye, a combination of black tux and black gown. She has one hand on his shoulder and the other clasped with his. His other hand is on the side of her waist, as they slow-dance.
She is fucking dancing with my husband on my own fucking wedding. This bitch—
But wait a second, why am I blaming her, when it could be Zane's idea...
He didn't stop her earlier, so it won't be a stretch he himself wanted it. He doesn't even look at me, as if I am invisible. And she is the only one he's interested in. The centre of his attention.
She whispers something in his ear and he laughs, the kind of laugh he has never laughed when he was with me.
They are moving as if each and every step is coordinated and then practiced. From their perfect height difference to the shared beauty. They are the picture perfect couple, who can dance.
And then there's me...
I have no place here. Everything about me is average. Average looks, skills, built, intellect. Just fucking average.
I turn around, because I just can't see this. I am feeling this sudden humiliation. This unexpected heartburn, caused by something unknown.
Dad was right.
I am just about to leave and cry myself to sleep, in the warmth of my comforter, when someone holds my hand from behind. I can't stop the blooming hope in my heart. Almost like a sunflower blooming for sun.
Is it him?
Did he finally remember me?
Before another seed of existential crises could grow inside me, this someone pulls me to them and I stumble on this man's sculpted chest. My eyes land on this man's face as they slowly go up. The same full lips are the first cue, then the perfect greek nose.
But then I see the wicked bluish-green orbs, instead of the blend of olive and mustard. It's not him...
It's his other half, Vance. My eyes fall with irresistible disappointment.
What was I even thinking?
He won't come. And I don't need him to come.
A fake marriage is all we are.
"That disappointed to see me, huh?" He pouts, but the green of his eyes, which is looking darker, almost absorbing the blue, shows me the deception in them.
"Fuck off, Vance..." I groan with frustration. Neither do I have the energy, nor am I in the mood of whatever dipshit he has in mind.
I try to pull away, but he doesn't let me, "leave me fucking alone!" I snap. Thankfully the orchestra is on a dramatic note right now, otherwise my voice would have brought a hell lot of attention.
All he does is tighten his hold on me, "but I don't want to, puppyboy." he cocks his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "So it would be better if you stop barring your teeth."
"Get some treatment. This is getting worse!" I comment on his psychopathic behaviour. And did he just call me puppyboy? Excuse-fucking-me??
"Aww, already worried about me?" He puts a hand on his chest, "I am touched."
"More like worried about who you will bite like a hound dog, but whatever..." I look at the giggling chandelier to gather some patience.
"I prefer some other canines, so more like a tiger." He says really thoughtfully.
I just blink at him, and try to understand the reason for my existence. I am done. I don't have the energy to correct him about the animal kingdom. "Don't stress your balls way too much, they might cramp." I slur.
"Balls? How did we come up to them?" And again, the football jock couldn't understand the insult...
At this point, I despise this level of nonchalance. "Forget it, that's much more interesting." His eyes darken.
You know the idiom, 'digging your own grave'? Well that one was made specifically for me. Because how the hell?
His hand rubs on my back, in a way which is completely inappropriate. "Is 'personal space' not a concept for you?" I push him hard on the chest, but this mountain of a man is rigid as hell.
"No. Do you mind teaching me?" He requests. He doesn't step back, but his hand does stop wandering. "Who tied your panties up, huh?"
My eyes widen with disbelief. The fatass audacity of this man. The nerve to fucking ask me this himself!
"Wait..." He pauses as his head goes somewhere behind me. "Don't tell me you are pissy because your newly wed hubby is dancing with another woman." He tsked, trying to rub it on my face.
"I. Am. Not. Pissy. About. It." He has smoked crack, no sane person would say such an absurd thing.
"Stop fucking insinuating!"
"Am I really?" I ignore his ragebait. "Well seeing you don't care about it, you wouldn't mind dancing with me, would you?"
I know he's trying to manipulate me, but then my eyes land on them. They are clearly visible from our new position and I can see the way he twirls her and she blushes.
There her cheeks go red and here my vision does. "I wouldn't." he just stares and then waits, for something that doesn't come. His lips part, caught up in between what he hears and what he believes.
I know my actions are triggered. This decision is spontaneous and everything I will regret later on. I am getting manipulated, but not by him. By something that's more malignant.
I grab his hand while he is still staring at me with a dumbfounded expression, but I don't give two fucks about it, as I pull him with me and we stop magically close to my husband and his Versace.
It wasn't intentional, okay?
I position us in such a way, I can see them from his shoulder, again, unintentional. "Woah...", he starts with his rambling.
"Shut your lips and talk with your hips." My eyes are still glaring holes on her head, which is way too fucking close to his face. He follows my line of sight as he turns around.
His mouth opens in a small, 'oh'. "Makes sense..." he trails.
God, can he stop chirping for just a fucking second? "I didn't know dancing requires bullshiting." I face him for just a second as I warn him.
"Just dance."
"As you say..." He grabs my waist with so much anticipation than it's required, as he puts my hand on his shoulder. Oh my god I am already regretting it, ahh!
We do some awkward swaying, but he seems to be enjoying it a lot. Whatever, it's not about his enjoyment, or even mine. I am fishing for something else.
Apparently, this fish does fall for my bait. As he doesn't need to look anywhere else, his eyes come straight to us and then they take in the sight in question. Me dancing with his brother, on our wedding night.
Well swallow that one, motherfucker. I keep them locked with his, as the forest of his eyes goes crimson. I match the intensity with a glare of my own.
He clenches his jaw as I whisper something in Vance's ear, "just keep going like that." My lips almost touch the lobe of his ear.
"Yeah?" He questions, and I just laugh as if this is the funniest thing ever.
Desperate much? Shut up, and be on my side for a second.
Vance milks my words, as he tightens his hold on my waist, bringing us so fucking close. As my face buries in his chest. Twice this night, to my dismay.
Of course.
Yeh, aur behti Ganga main hath na dhoye? Im-fucking-possible.
I keep it there for a while and not raise it instantly, but when I do—
Oh my.
.. the sight that I see should be photographed and kept in fucking vaults.
Zane Fucking Valentino Belladonna, is looking completely neutral, but the veins popping on his forehead and a single one on his neck is giving him away.
This big hulk is angry? Hmm...
I love it.
"You look fucking edible in that tux of yours." Vance comments huskily.
Meh, not interested.
I keep my eyes on his twin as I say, "Finding me hot, hmm?" I shift my head to his, so that they are close, just for a second. "I always knew you had secrets, but secrets this forbidden... damn..."
Vance twirls me, and I let him. Because I don't care about taking charge right now. That's not the prime priority. "What do you mean?" He asks me.
"Son of Alessandro is fucking gay." I casually drop it, forgetting that I am literally in the arms of my bully.
"I. Am. Not." He spits every word out and that brings my eyes back to his. Well that one stung, huh?
I notice how he doesn't even say the word gay, as if even saying it is a taboo.
"As they say, the more they hide..." I look him dead in the eyes, "the more they are."
He flares his nose, as his hold becomes deadly on my body. His fingers burying in my hand. "Listen you little bitch, I am not a fucking fag." Again the slur, but not the actual term.
Hmm, whatever you say...
"But beware, because your husband might be." He twirls me so hard making me dizzy, as he leaves.
My husband is ...gay?
A/N?
Read that chapter with the song I put above and tell me you didn't feel how heated the rivalry is ????...
Hmm, how was the chapter? ???
What do you think about this new dynamic?
Thoughts? ??
Comments? ??
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