The Unwanted Marriage: Dion and Faye’s Story (The Windsors)
The Unwanted Marriage: Chapter 18

My body is taut with anticipation as Faye and I walk into our room. I watch her carefully, my heart pounding wildly.

She clears her throat awkwardly as she looks around, and while she takes in our plunge pool, jacuzzi, and deck, I study her. I’m captivated as she walks through the room, until she finally pauses beside our bed. I’ve never been so enchanted by a woman, and I have no idea what to do about it.

Her cheeks are bright red as she raises her head to look at me, her eyes flickering with an emotion I can’t quite read but want to learn more about. Is it shyness? Coyness? Or is it simply intrigue?

“This seems a little… inappropriate,” she murmurs, her voice a pitch higher than usual.

Fluster. She’s flustered, and it might very well be my new favorite look on her. “Yeah?” I murmur. “Go ahead and tell my grandmother. She’s the one who arranged our accommodation. If you tell her you can’t share with me, I’m sure she’ll arrange a new room for you.”

Faye’s eyes widen, and that porcelain mask of hers cracks, revealing her frustration in response to my words. For a moment, I wonder if she’ll actually march out of here to demand a new room. If she did, what would Grandma do? I’d pay good money to witness that conversation.

She grits her teeth and throws me a glare, unaware of the way my cock springs to attention when she looks at me that way, showing me her true feelings. I’m determined to unravel her, piece by piece.

I watch as she forces her mask back into place, her anger draining away until there’s nothing left but that demure expression I’ve come to hate. I crave realness from her with such debilitating ferocity, and I’m uncertain why. Something about provoking her makes me feel alive on days when breathing seems too hard. Maybe it’s because I recognize the hidden pain in her empty eyes, or maybe it’s simply because I’m a selfish fucking asshole seeking salvation in the one woman who holds the power to destroy me.

Faye looks up at me, and I can’t quite read her expression. Any intimacy that we fostered on the plane is gone, replaced with trepidation. “I understand that we’ll be married soon, and once we are, I won’t deny you anything. But until then, would it be okay if I ask you to refrain from touching me? I didn’t really mind it during our flight, because it genuinely seemed to help you, but I… I don’t want…”

Me. She doesn’t want me.

The rejection stings more than I expected it to, but I smile nonetheless as I walk toward her. “Are you telling me you’ll spread those pretty legs for me on our wedding night?” I murmur, reaching for her. I grab a strand of her hair and wrap it around my finger, all the while wishing I could have more of her.

Faye looks up at me, and that shy gaze of hers just floors me. “I… I just… I assumed you would…”

I smirk at her and let her hair slip through my fingers. “There’s nothing I’d want more,” I whisper. “Do you have any idea how many times a day I think of you in my bed? It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. I could be in a meeting with several industry leaders, and my thoughts will turn to you. You, Faye. The way you’ll taste when I finally kiss you for the first time, or the way you’ll sound when you come for me. Sometimes, when my thoughts wander, they simply lead me to memories of the way you laughed at the charity gala, and I replace myself thinking of ways to make you do that again. You, my darling fiancée, are on my mind entirely too often, and I’m not sure I like it.”

When did it happen? When did she begin to dominate my thoughts against my wishes? I could lie to myself and say it was at The Lacara, when I had her thighs wrapped around my waist and my hands on her body in a way I’d never had them before. Or I could finally admit to myself that she’s been invading my mind from the moment I danced with her at Ares’s wedding nearly two years ago. She’d looked completely unrecognizable, as though she’d grown into an entirely new person. The only thing that remained unchanged was that impenetrable mask of hers. I’d held her against me, and with one single touch, she tore through the first layer of my defenses. I doubled down and evaded her harder than ever before, shocked by her ability to affect me, only for her to fucking obliterate me with a single teardrop.

Faye looks taken-aback, her pretty lips parted just a little, as though she never would’ve imagined that I think of her at all. It makes me wonder just how she views me. What kind of picture did I paint throughout the years when I ignored and neglected her? How do I undo it?

She glances back at our bed, and I follow her gaze. I can’t even remember the last time I shared a bed with someone. Falling asleep with a woman always seemed far more intimate than simply giving into desire. Besides, these days, my nightmares haunt me more and more frequently. Faye has already seen the way flying affects me, and I’m hardly thrilled about that. The last thing I want is for her to discover more of my weaknesses. Perhaps it would’ve been better not to share a room, after all. All I can do is hope the nightmares don’t wake me. I’m not sure how I’d explain them.

I glance at the welcome pack the staff left on the table for us and reach for the champagne bottle, eager to divert her attention and settle her nerves. “How about we open this up? We have the evening to ourselves, and I can do with a drink after that dreadful flight.”

Before we disembarked, Grandma informed us that we’re all expected at breakfast tomorrow morning, but thankfully, she didn’t insist on forcing us together for dinner. I’m sure Luca and Val need some time together to process everything Grandma told them earlier today. She basically admitted to playing them for years. It might have been for their own good, but someone like Luca won’t see it that way. It makes me wonder what kind of fucked up game my grandmother must be playing with Faye and me.

Faye looks at me, her gaze uncertain. “Can we?” she asks, her eyes moving to the bottle in my hands.

I blink in surprise, confused by the question. “Why can’t we?”

She shakes her head, her cheeks turning perfectly rosy once again. “I’d love to, I mean,” she tells me, her voice soft. She hesitates then, her arms wrapping around herself. “Dion, may I take a shower first? The flight was a little longer than I expected, and I’d really love to freshen up a little if that’s okay?”

I frown at her. Why would she need my permission for something like that? “Of course,” I murmur, unsure of what else to say.

She nods at me and disappears into the walk-in-wardrobe, leaving me feeling unsettled. Maybe I should’ve checked if I could arrange a separate room for her after all. I figured there’s no point in postponing the inevitable, but perhaps she needs more time to adjust to this mad situation. We’ve had most of our lives to come to terms with our upcoming marriage, but now that we’re only a few months removed from it, reality is finally sinking in for me. It must be the same for her, too. The only difference is that I’m starting to look forward to everything she’s dreading.