chapter 20
Matleon
I like the arrangement the Mikhailovs have done in their palace’s gathering wing.
The party hall has been transformed into a wedding setting. Crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, golden drapes framing the windows. Everything is bright. I wouldn’t have a problem with low lighting, but I think my Angel will like it this way.
Guest rooms are on the first floor, where we stayed, and the wedding will take place here on the ground floor.
I’m standing at the dais without my best man.
Kaz offered to stand beside me, but I declined.
It was supposed to be Zo; since he’s not here, there will be no one else.
It’s not that Kaz isn’t close to me, but no one could replace Zo.
There’s only one man more dear to me than those bound by blood, and that’s Zloban.
My best friend, my cousin, my teammate, my companion.
My mom smiles at me from her chair. I return it.
She helped me get ready, making sure I look like the prince from Fallen Roast. Ugly guy, but my mom thinks he looks like me.
Dad gave me peace of mind with a shake of his head.
So, according to Mom, I’m so ridiculously good-looking right now she could cry—proud she managed to give birth to someone this charming.
Well, my mother loves me. Can’t complain.
My eyes shift toward the door as the music starts.
I have a history of staring at these doors, waiting for her to come through.
Three times she’s come straight to me, her sunshine smile lighting up my world.
Twice, she came without so much as a glance in my direction.
Today, she will come to become mine for life.
The doors open. My heart halts, my breath snags, the world stills, except my mind, which is busy imprinting this moment into my soul. She’s holding her father’s arm, wearing a white dress with fallen shoulders. It clings to her waist and flows down like clouds.
My angel.
In white.
Her father gives her hand to me. I hold it firmly and nod at Uncle Damir with a smile of reassurance: I will always cherish your daughter the way you have.
She stands in front of me, I keep my eyes fixed on her.
She looks like never before. They’ve done something around her eyes, making the blue even more enchanting.
Her peach-colored lips are tinted a shade darker, and a few strands of her red curls brush her cheek beside her ear.
She looks so delicate and pure in white.
I want to keep her as she is, perfect and untouchable, like a doll I could frame and keep with me forever.
Yet at the same time, I want to strip away this thin layer of paint from her face, slip her out of that white dress, and trace every inch of her body, sculpting her as the ancients sculpted their goddesses, sacred, inviolable, and entirely mine.
The priest clears his throat, his voice echoing slightly through the grand hall.
“We are gathered here today to witness the union of Iselyn Mikhailov, daughter of Damir Mikhailov, and Matleon, son of Alessio. Do you, Matleon, take Iselyn to be your lawfully wedded wife, to honor, cherish, and protect her for all the days of your life?”
“I do,” I answer, my eyes locked on her.
“And you, Iselyn, do you take Matleon to be your lawfully wedded husband, to honor, cherish, and stand by him for all the days of your life?”
“I do,” she replies softly, her tone even, her expression carefully neutral.
The priest continues, reciting blessings and promises. Finally, he lifts his hands and declares, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Matleon, you may now kiss the bride.”
Her expressionless face betrays the slightest flicker of change at the priest’s words. Despite my best efforts to suppress it, a small smirk finds its place at the corner of my lips. She glares at me, fire dancing in her ocean eyes, as my hands cup her face.
“Let me kiss my bride, Angel,” I whisper against her lips.
I press my mouth to hers. She tightens her lips, refusing to respond, but I taste the faint sweetness of the strawberry gloss she’s wearing, though I prefer her natural flavor. I pull away slightly, letting my forehead rest against hers, and murmur, “This won’t count.”
Then I leave her face.
Iselyn
The private jets land on Spring Hill’s Airfield. I’ve been here before, when I met Matleon for the first time and decided to marry him, and now, the second time I’m here, I’m married to him.
We leave the next day after our wedding; our wedding night was in my suite, where I slept in my bedroom and Matleon in the guest bedroom.
We haven’t spent a single minute close to each other since our wedding, which I secretly appreciate.
Matleon didn’t even try to come near me, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s planning to play indifferent now that we’re married.
Avi and Zo are waiting for us on the mansion’s front patio. Avi pulls me into a hug, giggling, “I can’t believe you’ll stay with us from now on!”
I chuckle, then give Zo a hug. “You’re not even looking the slightest bit less handsome in that wheelchair.”
He gives me a small, soft smile.
Their mansion is on the hill adjoining this one.
It takes only ten minutes to go from Matleon’s mansion to Zo’s.
Both were built by their fathers, but they now own them.
Last time I came here, the hills looked like someone had meticulously planned the landscaping.
Now, they’ve allowed the greenery to go wild, letting the trees and plants take over.
I like it more this way, wild is the most beautiful.
One side of these mansions faces the ocean, the other side stretches into the forest. At least I love the place where I’m going to stay.
Wen, Avi, and Autumn give me a tour of Matleon’s huge mansion.
First, they show me the outside, the magnificent front garden, which has a pond reminiscent of my papa’s mansion, the one we no longer live in but I still like.
There are different types of tea plants and simple bushes where the garden merges into the forest. What catches my attention immediately is the swing in the center.
I can already tell I’m going to spend a lot of time on it.
“This was a very beautiful garden when Mom was staying here, but now Matleon has changed it completely,” Wen says, with a hint of distaste.
I don’t have memories of how it was in the past, but the wildness it has now matches Matleon perfectly.
And even though I don’t particularly like him, I like this wildness.
When we reach the back garden, my feet freeze on the ground. There are so many plants here, and all of them are my medicinal plants. My mouth drops open as I take them in. It’s as if my garden has been teleported here; all of them are grown exactly the way I like.
“These are new here,” Avi explains. “He hired a new gardener for them. For many days, many people were working around them.”
Wen shrugs. “Well, leave them. Leo must have found some strange hobby of growing unusual plants. Let’s go inside.”
“They’re medicinal plants,” I mutter, turning around to leave. Realization dawns on them instantly, and they start teasing me as they continue giving me a tour of the house.
On the ground floor, there are four suites.
One belongs to Uncle Alessio and Aunt Pheny, one is supposed to be Matleon’s, and another for Wen, but they don’t want to move downstairs from their rooms on the first floor.
The kitchen, living room, sitting room, morning room, and evening room are also downstairs.
On the first floor, there are five bedrooms, one theater room, one gaming room, Matleon’s study, and another room beside it that is locked.
In the end, they take me to Matleon’s room.
It’s painted in concrete grey, with curtains of the same color, white oak furniture, and beige sheets.
It looks like his room isn’t really part of this house.
It has its own theme, while the rest of the house is painted off-white with dark wooden furniture.
His room feels suffocating and yet wide open at the same time.
“This is going to be your room,” Wen says with a grin.
I scrunch my nose. “Can’t I have another room?”
“You don’t like it?” Autumn asks.
“I don’t like the man with whom I’m going to share it.”
They laugh.
Avi says, “Once uncle, aunt, Ma, and Pa are gone, you can kick Leo’s ass and demand your own room.”
I nod, looking around at the details of the room. It’s beautiful, I decide in the end. But I don’t see any other doors for a closet or bathroom. “Is there no bathroom?” I ask, speaking to no one in particular.
Wen moves around the small bookshelf wall. “Come see the bathroom.”
I follow her while Avi and Autumn sit on the bed. There’s a partition wall with a bookshelf built into it; behind it are the closet and bathroom doors.
“Why did he have to hide his bathroom and closet behind this wall?” I ask.
Wen shrugs. “He doesn’t like doors glaring at him. That’s what he told Dad when he asked him to build this wall—when he was twelve.”
Strange kid, just like his adult self. I follow Wen inside the closet, where there are women’s clothes mixed with his own.
Wen chuckles. “These are all picked by him for you.”
I take a look at all sorts of dresses, shorts, T-shirts, trousers, and footwear, my lips slightly parted in awe. She opens two drawers and calls out with amusement, “Take a look at your new lingerie collection, babe.”
I peek inside. There are at least fifty pairs, if not more, in every color and style imaginable.
She picks up a laced babydoll, laughing. “Why don’t you wear this one tonight?”
I snatch it from her and throw it back in, my cheeks burning. “How does he even know my size?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not surprised. It’s not a big deal for him to figure out,” she says, taking me out of the closet and opening the bathroom door.
I step inside. The bathroom is echoing the concrete grey, beige, and white oak palette of his room.
Polished white oak cabinets line the walls, a freestanding tub rests against a grey concrete accent wall, and the floors are a warm beige marble.
A walk-in shower with frameless glass and rainfall showerhead gleams under the recessed lighting.
A huge bathrobe hangs, undoubtedly his. Nearby are neatly folded towels, his shampoo, body wash, and all other essentials.
Next to his things are mine, the same brand of body wash and moisturizer I use, my complete hair care kit perfectly arranged.
It feels oddly intimate, seeing his things next to mine.
Without me telling him any of these details, he has prepared all this. It should feel creepy, but all I can feel is heat rising in my gut. I suppose it’s because I’m relieved that I won’t have to worry about managing any of this myself.