Page 39 of Marry Lies
“Don’t you dare,” I growl.
“Don’t make a scene,” she grits out, her lips moving down to my jaw.
My eyes flutter closed as her warm breath makes my cock twitch. Her mouth inches lower, and I feel the first brush of her lips against the gnarled skin of my neck. Sucking in a ragged breath, I grind my jaw and fist the fabric of her dress.
No.
Too much.
I pull away and shove her off me. She stumbles slightly as I storm toward the photographer.
“You got your pictures. You can leave now,” I tell him, breathing heavily.
I don’t dare to look back at Estelle as I follow him inside and away from my new bride.
CHAPTEREIGHT
THE DINNER
Stella
I don’t see Miles at all the day after our wedding.Honeymoon, my arse.I spend the day sketching and dreaming up exactly what my clothing line will look like to distract myself. Around five, Luna informs me that dinner is at seven, and that Miles is expecting me to join him. I grumble the entire time I get ready, showering slowly and taking my time diffusing my hair. When I’m done, I pull on one of my favorite colorful blouses with a crazy, bright pattern, as well as cut-off denims. Slipping into sandals, I dab some of my grandmother’s perfume behind my ear, and then I make my way to the formal dining room fifteen minutes late.
I’m not sure what happened yesterday, but after our kiss at the reception, he pulled away. Not that he was a warm, friendly person to begin with. I knew that going into the marriage. But for some reason, Miles Ravage was shielding his true emotions. Hewasconcerned for me at the ceremony. I could see it. And the way he kissed me at the reception…no one is that good of an actor. Also, I felt hisexcitementagainst my hip when he kissed me on the balcony. I know he’s attracted to me.
There was a point last night that I thought maybe his walls were crumbling down, but for whatever reason, he built it back up higher and stronger than before. He apologized for kissing me and promised me it would never happen again.
And I want to know why.
Walking into the dining room, I see Miles seated at the head of the table, frowning at something on his phone. His icy gaze flicks up to my legs, roaming up to my face slowly. His slow perusal of my bare legs makes something flutter inside of me, but I ignore it, biting my tongue as I sit down at the seat to his left.
I can be cordial.
It’s only a year.
He’s my fake husband, not my friend. There was nothing in the prenuptial agreement that said we had to be friends.
“Do you own any clothing that doesn’t resemble a highlighter?” he grumbles, taking a sip of his red wine.
Okay, then. Starting the evening off with his arseholery. Lovely.
I pick up my glass, sipping my wine slowly before answering. My new ring clinks against the glass, and I can feel his eyes on my throat as I swallow.
“Do you own any clothing that isn’t a suit?” I ask, my eyes traveling down to hisRcufflinks.
He presses his lips together as he steeples his hands. “You’re late.”
“It takes a long time to dry my hair,” I explain, taking another large gulp of wine. I’m going to need the entire bottle if he continues to be a prat.
His eyes drag over my hair slowly, and then they narrow with distaste. He nods once, swallowing his words with his wine.
I know whatever response he swallowed was not a nice one.
“My father sent over the contract for our financial agreement this morning,” he says smoothly as the chef walks into the dining room with two plates. “Did you receive it?”
I shrug as he sets the watermelon and feta salad in front of me. My mouth waters. I’m a horrible cook, and my diet usually consists of biscuits, oatmeal with chocolate chips, peanut butter, and plain pasta cooked in the microwave. Luna offered to have the chef cook me dinner while Miles was away last week, but I refused.
It’s silly to cook for one person.
