CHAPTER 27 - ARIANNA
CHAPTER
Arianna
I DON’T THINK I could feel any more humiliated if I tried.
Having had only a couple of hours to get my head around that I’ve somehow agreed to marry my family’s arch-nemesis is so impossible that I’m nowhere near processing it.
But to discover the wedding dress I’ve just been measured up for is required for tomorrow is something I must ignore. It’s the only way I can cope.
It’s also the only way I stand a chance of hiding that this unexpected news was something I was utterly unaware of. I’m unsure whether I succeeded because this Harrods woman - Sylvia - has looked at me suspiciously more than a few times.
Heat floods my face. What if she thinks I have to marry Red, but not in the way I actually do have to marry him? What if she thinks I’m pregnant, and this is a shotgun wedding? Oh God, God, God!
Little does she know that if I was pregnant, it would be the Immaculate Conception!
My cheeks heat further with burning flames of resentment.
That this woman - this personal shopper - knows my wedding date before me, speaks volumes of what my life will be like.
It underlines that things will be as hard as they were with Roberto, with the exception of not putting up with unwanted demands in bed.
That’s if I believe Red’s words, which, surprisingly, I think I do.
“I’m certain we have a wedding dress in your size that will suit you perfectly.” Sylvia pauses, giving me another one of those looks. “This situation is unusual, though. Most of our brides have wedding dresses custom-made months and months in advance...”
I search for a suitable response, but Sylvia has already moved to the racks of clothes wheeled into the room by Red’s staff. “Now, these clothes,” she trills. “Aside from the obvious, are there any functions that are urgent?”
Sylvia’s eyes covertly run over my body, and I realize she’s calculating if any alterations are required. These clothes look to be my size, but how did she know without seeing me?
I self-consciously pull the silk robe around me, grateful I was handed it, rather than standing in my underwear because I feel exposed and vulnerable enough as it is.
I run my fingers along the material of the clothes on the wheeled racks - all four of them...
They’re all beautiful, designer and extortionately expensive clothes. Matching or even overtaking the quality collection I have at home.
I swallow dryly. It was once my home, but not any longer.
“Miss?” Sylvia clears her throat. “Is there nothing here that you like?”
I start at her voice, having almost forgotten her presence. “The clothes are lovely,” I smile weakly. And they are . “Can I ask how you chose what to bring?”
Sylvia’s eyes are inquisitive, holding a tinge of suspicion. “Mr Bateman was very specific as to his preference.”
Any smile on my face vanishes. Red ordered what he wants me to wear? The distraction from this mass of beautiful clothes and even the wedding disappears with the stark reminder that I’m a prisoner.
This sham marriage will be another lifetime of being controlled and trapped.
And this time, after who I’m being forced to marry, I’ll lose my family’s respect, as well as contact with them.
They won’t understand why I’ve done it, and Red will never allow me the chance to tell them either, so they’ll believe I’m a traitor.
“Mr Bateman also requested these...”
My swirling panic is momentarily interrupted as Sylvia unzips a large, wheeled holdall and lays the contents on the bed. My eyes widen as she expertly arranges a collection of lingerie: bras, matching panties, basques, stockings and negligees in every conceivable color.
My cheeks burn at the thought of Red selecting these. Were his blue-gray eyes heated, imagining what I’d look like in this exquisite satin and lace?
Why request such beautiful lingerie when there’s no intention of laying a hand on me?
And why do I care?
“Mr Bateman has delectable taste,” Sylvia gushes. “Perfect for a new marriage.”
I pretend to admire the selection of underwear rather than revealing my escalating dread. I will not discuss any aspects of this sham wedding with Sylvia.
“Shall we make a start with trying on some things?” Sylvia glides over to a beautiful red satin cocktail dress and plucks it off the rail with expert hands.
“I don’t think my fiancée needs to try on the clothes. I know what size she is and what she likes.”
I swing around at Red’s voice. “What are you doing here?”
With horror, I realize my satin wrap has fallen open, revealing more flesh that I’d ever wish this man to lay eyes on, and my fumbling fingers scramble to pull it back around myself.
Crossing the room in three strides, Red pulls me against him. I almost pass out as he presses his lips against my cheek, his stubble scratchy against my face. “I thought I’d pop in to hurry you along.”
His hands rest just above my buttocks as he holds me against his hard body. Fire explodes in my center, my nipples hardening traitorously.
“Play along,” Red whispers, his lips still against my cheek. Pulling his mouth away, he keeps me held against him, his eyes boring deep into mine. “We’ll be late for our lunch date if you don’t hurry. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”
I want to move away and get as far away as possible, but I can’t. Play the game? “Er, oh... lunch, yes... well... erm... I really should try on the clothes. I’m not sure which ones though an...”
“She’ll take them all.” Red smiles at Sylvia. “Add the total to my account.”
“What? But I...” Red’s hand squeezes a distinct warning, and my protestations tail off.
Entranced by Red’s magnetic presence, Sylvia remains motionless, but when nothing further is said, she realizes that’s her cue to leave. “Thank you, sir. The wedding dress will be delivered first thing in the morning,” she says, all but bowing as she scrapes backwards out of the room.
I feel like I’m melting. One of Red’s hands is still firmly against the small of my back, keeping my body held against his.
My heat burns brighter. Only a couple of layers of cloth are between my naked form and the hard length pushing against my stomach through his trousers.
This also means he can feel the hard points of my nipples through my thin satin wrap.
I somehow keep my smile in place until the door shuts behind Sylvia’s retreating form before wriggling out of Red’s grasp. “What the hell are you playing at? What was that about?”
If he wants to keep hold of me, he can do so easily, but instead, he relinquishes his grip and laughs, infuriating me further.
“We’re getting married, remember? You’re my gorgeous fiancée, who loves me very much. We have to make it look realistic, Arianna.”
I scowl at this arrogant man. “How can I pretend that I want to marry you ? It’s ridiculous! And how can we make it look ‘realistic’ if you’re making it obvious to everyone that you’ve ‘forced’ my hand to score points?”
“Only particular people will be told that. The rest of the world will believe it’s real. Luckily, you’re not doing a bad job of making it look authentic.”
His gaze moves to my chest where my nipples betray me, and the throbbing in my core increases. Shit .
“Anyway, I’m not really here to take you for lunch.” Red strolls over to the bed and picks up a pair of lace and satin panties, his thick fingers running over the material.
I snatch the underwear out of his hands. “If there’s nothing else you want, can you please leave?”
Chuckling, Red walks towards the door before turning and nodding back towards the bed. “In my opinion, the red set would look best on you.”
The door shuts behind him, leaving me standing motionless, my arousal still strong. How can he affect me like this?
I sink onto the bed and avoid looking at the underwear, especially the red set, in case I’m tempted to wear it.