Chapter Eighteen
Lilac
I’m glad today is Saturday, so I decide to explore my gilded cage.
Each room is different and… beautiful. Irvin’s mother had taste.
Antique furniture is trapped within these mahogany walls.
The maids, dressed in red uniforms, clean the rooms. Sunlight spills through the heavy drapes.
I swallow thickly. Sometimes, I can’t breathe in here—to the point that I need to step outside for fresh air.
I look at the paintings of people on the wall. Their eyes follow me as I creep to the library. I search the shelves. Might as well read to keep my mind off my horrible life.
My heart melts a little when I pick up a psychological thriller from a shelf. I scan the rest of the titles. Did this lunatic really give me my own library? It’s stocked with psychological thrillers, paranormal romance, and horror. All of these books are from my Wish List. What the fuck?
My throat tightens. Goosebumps pop up on my skin like a rash.
It’s beautiful—every girl’s dream. Like I said, on campus and in public, we act like the cute couple, but I’m going to escape this cage.
The library is cozy, filled with warmth as I light the gigantic masonry fireplace, giving me the illusion that it’s safe in here—just like Irvin made me feel safe before he tricked me into marriage.
I yank a domestic psychological thriller from the shelf next and settle into the recliner.
Maybe I can learn how to frame my husband for a murder he didn’t commit so I can finally get away from him.
No, I don’t have the heart to kill someone, let alone frame someone else for something they didn’t do.
But I’m going to stick to the plan and manipulate my husband.
I read the book, and before I know it, I doze off. When my eyes snap open, the moon is peeking through the windows.
I stretch out my legs, and my phone buzzes with a message. I grab it from my pocket. It’s from Winter.
Winter: How did it go with Irvin? I stopped by your condo, and it was empty.
Me: He moved me to this haunted-looking mansion, and I’m not okay.
Winter: Do you want to come over? Some company?
Me: No. I just need to be alone for a little bit.
Winter: Okay, I understand. Next week we’re going shopping for our dresses. Keanu’s parents want to move up the wedding.
Me: Okay. Give me the time and date, and I’ll be there.
Irvin strolls into the library, leaning against the doorway arch, hands in his pockets.
His tattoos etched into his face shine against the flames of the fireplace, and the dark Brioni suit he wears hugs his muscular body.
His jade eyes devour me like I’m on his menu.
His presence dominates the room, overpowering me.
I linger on the word sad inked under his eye—what does it mean?
I hate how attractive he is, how his silver hair contrasts against the gloomy room. He looks like an actual god—untouchable and powerful.
“How do you like your library?”
I don’t want to seem overzealous about it—though I actually love it. Instead, I shrug and get up from the recliner.
“I hate it. It’s too gloomy and ugly,” I lie.
Each step he takes toward me leaves an impression on the floor, matching my heartbeat. His long finger strokes my warm cheek. I try not to exhale. Knots form in the pit of my stomach.
“Is that so?”
He smirks. He knows I’m lying.
My cheeks burn like lava. I hate how he affects my body—and I still want his fingers all over me.
I step back, putting some distance between us. The tension is so thick I can cut it with a knife.
He leans against the dark walls, sliding his fingers into his pockets. Elegance drips from him like water.
“Are you hungry? The chef made dinner.”
My jaw tightens slightly, and my chest expands, but I keep my composure. If I make him think I’m going out on a date, he’ll set me free. I can scare him off—show him I don’t want him anymore. I face the lit fireplace, turning my back to him.
“No. I’m going out, actually,” I mention casually.
I hear his footsteps behind me.
“Where are you going?”
A shiver slithers down my spine.
“Out.”
I dash out of the library and into the bedroom.
I head straight to the walk-in closet and settle on a long gray gown. If this plan is going to work, I have to play it cool. Don’t break character. I remove my clothes, toss them on the floor, not caring that Irvin’s predatory eyes are on me.
When I turn around, I fumble with my ankle boots, stride to the lavish open bathroom, and poise on the vanity to contour my face with makeup.
Irvin follows me in.
“Where are you going all dressed up?”
I meet his eyes in the wall-mounted mirror.
I feel guilty for what I’m about to say.
I clear my throat. “I-I, uh… have a date,” I lie.
His eyes track me slowly. His brow wrinkles.
“A date?” His tone is sharp like glass.
I square my shoulders, running a comb through my hair.
“Yes. In case you missed the memo, our relationship isn’t real. You tricked me into this marriage, so our marriage is open. I can fuck and date whomever I want—and so can you.”
I don’t like the thought of him with someone else, but I shake my head, dismissing it. That’s a ludicrous thought.
“Lilac.” My name sounds like a warning.
“Don’t wait up for me.”
My smile is smug as I move past him. I grab the key from the hook and his credit card from his wallet and head outside to his white Mustang. He wants to steal my freedom? I’ll steal his money and car.
At the elegant restaurant, I order butternut squash soup. Classical music hums in the background. The lights are dim, and I exhale loudly. My shoulders relax. I didn’t know how suffocating the mansion was until I left.
I eat in peace while reading on my phone, picking up where I left off at the mansion.
I love the way he looked when I walked out—the rage simmering in his beautiful eyes. For once, I have all the power, making him feel as angry as he makes me.
Someone sits across from me. I look up. Irvin rests in the seat, changed into a navy-blue suit. His fingers flex on the dark cloth that covers the table.
I smile tightly. My pulse hammers in my ears. I tuck the phone into my purse.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“Oh, I thought when you said we were going on a date…” His tone is emotionless.
He flags down a waitress and orders himself a meal.
I fold my arms across my chest. “No. My date is on his way. You need to leave before he gets here.” I shoo him away.
“Nah, I’m going to wait for him. See if he has the balls to fail—attempt—to take my wife out on a date.”
The waitress brings him his bourbon on the rocks and his food. Irvin sips his drink slowly, watching me from the rim of the glass, studying my every move.
I crinkle my nose. “What are you going to do to him when he gets here?”
He shrugs. “We’ll see when the time arrives.” His words sound like a promise that he’ll hurt the guy.
My stomach feels hollow. My shoulders slump. Please. Just. Go. Away.
“You wouldn’t hurt him, would you?”
He cuts into his dry-aged steak and bites into the meat. “I’ll slit his throat, then hang his head on a spike. No one touches what’s mine.”
My arms and legs tremble. “You wouldn’t.”
He smiles viciously. “Oh, I would. He’s a threat to my relationship. And anyone who’s a threat needs to be eliminated—especially someone who touches what’s mine.”
I shake my head. “You told me you don’t hurt innocent people.”
His eyes are vacant.
“I hurt anyone who I see as a threat—to me or to you.” His tone is cold.
I fake a smile, but I break out in a cold sweat.
The waitress brings me a glass of wine. I swallow as the berry flavor explodes in my mouth.
I inhale. In. Out. In. Out. I have to get myself out of this sticky situation.
I pretend my phone vibrates and glance at the screen. “He’s not coming. He bailed.”
I want to smack that smirk off his face.
“Good. I didn’t want to kill anyone in this suit. Blood is hard to get out of clothing.”
I sigh in relief, and sip my wine slowly, not taking my eyes off him.
“Let me make something clear.” His tone is cool and deadly. He yanks my chair next to his, strokes my chin before gripping it gently, and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Don’t ever cheat on me. It will never turn out pleasant for him.”