Page 20 of Pretty Poison

He opens his mouth to speak again, but Dario chimes in, “Don’t even think of arguing back, Red. You’re not a child. Act your age and take it like a grown-ass man.”

He just scoffs and crosses his arms like a child angry with their parents, muttering something under his breath.

“What was that?” I ask, leaning closer. “If you have something to say, don’t be scared. Speak up.”

He flicks his eyes over to Dario. “You heard her. If you have something to say, speak up. If it’s not anything nice, keep your mouth shut.”

“I’m not a child. Don’t speak to me like one.”

“Then act your age and not your damn shoe size,” I retort before Dario can even open his mouth.

The rest of the night is spent in a silent and tense atmosphere, while I feel judged and eyed up by everyone as they refuse tovoice their thoughts on my little back-and-forth-conversation with Red. I don’t even know what gave me the balls to speak up like that, especially to him, but maybe when I kicked him in his crown jewels, he lost his and I gained a pair of my own.

∞∞∞

We all stand by the front door watching Dario’s parents and grandparents disappear from our line of sight, venturing back to their house. Kat rests her head on my shoulder. “Are you tired?” I ask.

“All that cake is gonna put me in a sugar coma,” she replies with a soft laugh. “But I think the baby loved it.”

“I’m sure they did, baby,” Maze says, moving her head onto his chest. “Let’s go to bed.” As I glance up at him, he looks down at me, “We’ll see you in the morning, Lia. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too, Maze.”

He offers a comforting smile before turning to walk away with Kat, her head still placed against his chest. I watch as he gives up halfway and scoops her up into his arms; this time, burying her head into the crook of his neck.

I’ve not heard much about how they came to find each other, only that they did and neither of them would change it for the world. Seven years of marriage and they’re still in the honeymoon stage. It’s amazing, really.

“Let’s get you to bed too,” Dario says, his hand finding its way to the small of my back as he pushes me forwards.

Spinning around, I tilt my head to see him as he’s glowering down at me. “I can find my own way, thanks.”

“I’m sure you can,” he replies with a small nod, “but you’ll soon have to get used to it. As a married couple—”

“But we’re not a married couple yet, are we?” I respond, yanking my hand away from his rough palm as it finds its way to my wrist. “I can survive without pretending for now.”

He exhales, exasperated. “Just do it, would you? I dislike it as much as you do, I can assure you of that, but we both need to make the necessary adjustments in preparation for that. For now, accompanying you to your bedroom will have to do.” He leans down, his hot breath against my skin. “But eventually, you and I will retire to the same bedroom, so the least you can do is let me walk you.”

“Fine,” I breathe, leading the way. “But you can stay at the door. You’re not welcome in my room.”

I hear him chuckle from behind me before he begins following me. In just a few strides, he catches up and passes me completely.

In all this mess, I never took the chance to admire the man behind the mask. He’s all bite around me, spitting harsh words and demands like it’s a common thing. It’s going to be hell standing by him, but even knowing that, I can’t help sometimes admiring the view.

He’s as tall as his ego, and for a split second, I think I can overlook it, but then he opens his mouth to speak, reminding me I can’t. His chiselled jaw wears a light stubble, hiding his perfect jawline. His deep green eyes are always the centre of attention, the first thing you notice on him. Not to mention his biceps that threaten to break free of every shirt he wears. He’d be a perfect husband, but not for me.

The situation we’re in is because of my father’s poor money-handling skills. If I had found him on my own, things might be different. Or maybe not… He’d still be the same man he is now—holding himself on a high and mighty pedestal of power and righteousness.

Finally, we stop outside my bedroom and he steps aside, allowing me to enter. “Thank you for walking me to my bedroom. I didn’t need an escort, though.”

“We both know you could easily find your way, but like I said, it’s something we have to grow accustomed to eventually. Whether we like it or not, we’re stuck in a predicament neither of us could argue ourselves out of. So do me a favour, be a good fiancée and an even better wife, and do as I say. This is my house, my land and my family – none of these will ever belong to you. Not really.” He cocks his head to the side as he stares down at me. “Your comfort in this situation depends on what I have and what I choose to share with you. You can get as comfortable as you like with my wealth, but one wrong move and you’ll have less than you did before. You might not like it, but you need to know your place here.”

His words make my jaw tighten, but all I can do is nod along and pretend they don’t hurt me, because it’s true. Everything is true and it’ll never change. Thisisall his, and I’m just an intruder.

“Goodnight, Liana,” he says, emotionless, reaching in to close the door.

I stay frozen in place as I hear his footsteps walking away from my room.

That hit me harder than I thought it would—harder than it should’ve. Before I came here, I knew every single one of those things for myself. Nobody told me as straightforwardly as he did, and I think that’s what cemented everything into place. He willnever be able to accept me the way a husband should welcome his wife. I am, and always will be, a business transaction to him, something to throw away when he’s finished with me.

---