Page 53 of An Eye For Illusion

Despise might not be the right word because I truly despise Elliott, and I’m quite settled about not wanting to marry him.

So why does the sudden thought of marrying Colin not make my skin crawl or my heart race in panic? I don’t have time to unravel the answers to all the questions running through my head right now as Elliott pulls me past Heather’s desk.

“Jade will be gone for most of the day. Make sure to reschedule her appointments,” he barks at her.

His tone finally snaps me out of the fog I found myself in. “Hey, don’t talk to her like that.” I yank my arm from his grasp.

His brows furrow like he can’t fathom why I would be upset over him bossing my assistant around, but he finally relents when my feet don’t waver from where I stand.

“Heather, can you please take care of Jade’s schedule today? I would be eternally grateful so I can whisk away my fiancée for some much overdue wedding planning,” he states in a much friendlier tone.

I’m satisfied with how he corrected his behavior but sorely disappointed that I can’t get out of this whole ordeal.

I need to use this time alone with him to find something I can use. I square my shoulders and follow him towards the elevator. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to plan a wedding I have no intention of ever seeing through.

We spent the whole damn day picking out flowers, the cake, talking to the caterer about the food, and booking the DJ and the venue. It went on and on. With the wedding a mere month away, I’m surprised we were able to book as much as we did, but that’s because he insisted we get it all done in one day. I’m exhausted physically and emotionally.

It took everything in me to keep a smile on my face and not call the whole thing off right then and there. I feel terrible for wasting everyone’s time, for booking the date, and putting deposits down on services I never intend to use. I suspect my father has paid a hefty price for my lack of planning. For that, I feel even more guilt.

The only thing I managed to get out of was dress shopping. I blamed my complete and utter reluctance on the fact that I didn’t want him to see the dress beforehand. I told him I wanted it to be a surprise for him. He finally relented when I promised to take care of it this week, but not before calling the most exclusive dress shop in town to book me a reservation. To punctuate his audacity, he called Heather to block my schedule off for it!

My desperation to get out of this arrangement is amplified tenfold after today. Elliott spent the day using every excuse he could to hold my hand, touch the small of my back, and pull me in for kisses that were much too inappropriate for public, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop him.

The kicker was I didn’t get a single useful thing out of Elliott the whole day. Any time I tried to steer the conversation, he redirected us back to the wedding. It was freaking useless.

I’m so desperate I contemplate doing the one thing I know I shouldn’t do…

I grab a bottle of wine out of my wine fridge, opting to pick one of the more expensive bottles since I’m drinking with purpose. I want to get drunk and forget this disaster of a day.

I moan when the first taste of the crisp white wine hits my tongue. I wander over to my favorite armchair, kicking off my heels as I move. Another moan escapes as I sink into the plush material. My feet ache from being on them so long while wearing six-inch heels.

I hate everything we picked today because I couldn’t bear the thought of picking something that I actually liked or even loved. My mind betrayed me multiple times when it repeatedly brought up the image of Colin in a modern, trim-fitting black suit. His eyes were heavy with need as I made my way toward him. My hands itched to reach out to him.

I groan and then gulp another swallow of wine. The alcohol hits my blood stream quickly, warming me as it makes its way through my veins.

Don’t fucking do it, Jade.

You’re still mad at him.

Don’t give him the satisfaction of reaching out first.

Instead of reaching for the TV remote I told myself I needed to distract myself, I find myself reaching for my phone.

My fingers move on their own accord as I pull up our text messages. Before I can second guess myself, I type out my message.

Me: Have you found anything yet?

It takes less than a minute for him to reply.

Colin: Nothing solid, but I’m working on a promising lead right now.

That’s the first bit of hope he’s given me this whole time, and I’m ashamed to admit how fucking relieved I feel.

Me: How long will it take?

Colin: I’m working as fast as I can. This new lead is going to take a bit of time. I can’t rush it. It’s too dangerous.

I suddenly sit up. Dangerous? What the hell does that mean? I hit call and impatiently wait for him to answer.

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