Chapter Eight

My eyes rose to meet his through the mirror. He still had the same look he always did.

Calm, calculated, and unfairly annoyingly composed.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he said matter-of-factly, “I’m helping my wife fix the zipper of her dress.”

The words settled between us, knocking some sense into me again. To him, being his “wife” was simply the role and a title I had agreed to play, nothing more. It was just another fact and responsibility he’d accepted the moment we signed that contract. I felt pathetic now, as an uncomfortable ache settled in my stomach at the thought.

“You really don’t think these things through, do you?” I muttered under my breath shaking my head at him, more to myself.

One of his brows quirked. “Sorry?”

I sighed, rubbing my forehead in surrender. “Nothing.” I replied, my mind switching to something else like a defense mechanism. “What’s the history between you and Vivian Danvers? It sounds rather juicy, or is it not to go public?”

I noticed his frown, no matter how slightly it was. He seemed to never even want to hear her name.

“Stay still, Chloe.” He said firmly, his deep voice taking a somewhat rough tone as he took a step to inspect the stubborn zipper making sure not to touch me.

His gaze remained focused on the material caught in the teeth of the zipper. Although, for someone who allegedly despised small talk, he was taking an awfully long time answering my question.

“Okay. Sooooo…” I dragged out the sound of the word with an innocent smile. “Is it a yes?”

“No.”

“No?

“It isn’t anything juicy.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little at his admission. “Like you would know if it was or was not.” I joked a little. “However, that means there is a story.”

“History, rather.”

“Oh?” My curiosity instantly doubled. “What’s the difference?”

I felt him slowly pinch a small fold of the silk fabric between his fingers.

“History takes place.” He tugged gently. But the zipper didn’t yield still.

“Usually,” he continued smoothly, “a ‘juicy history’ tends to be exaggerated by people with too much free time on their hands.”

“…You’re dodging the question.”

“Obviously.”

I let out a dramatic sigh. “For someone who negotiates billion-dollar mergers, you’re surprisingly difficult to negotiate with.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to think that. Mia persistently reminds me to try to loosen up but I don’t understand the appeal.”

“I doubt you have the appeal regardless.” I said, folding my arms, looking away with a frowned pout. I was a little annoyed that I didn’t get to hear what happened between them, would have used it against him in the future if it could be weaponized.

But the moment I glanced back at our reflection in the mirror, I felt a sudden tug at my gown. My breath caught, a little shocked.

The movement pulled me backward just enough for my back to brush against his chest, and the hard planes of this body. The force wasn’t enough to make me lose my balance, but enough to close the careful distance he had been maintaining between us. Warmth spread from his body to mine, through the thick layer of cloth and the almost nonexistent space between us that made me forget how to breathe.

“Y-you pulled too hard.” I said in a quiet tone, quieter than I had intended.

“I know.” His voice changed. It was a deeper tone, slightly rough, though still perfectly controlled. He leaned down closer, his voice resonating in my ear, his breath warm on my shoulder. “You run your mouth a bit too much, wife.”

Shit, he’s pissed.

“The zipper caught again it seems.”

He didn’t move from where he stood, neither did I, and it suddenly felt as though the room had forgotten how to make a noise. Even the crackling sounds from the fireplace seemed distant.

I could feel the rhythm of his breathing behind me, close enough to be noticed, but not enough to feel improper. I could feel his muscles tightened when I stumbled back, as though he was stopping himself or holding his own balance.

For a second, I felt his hand lingering close to my spine but not touch, before settling down gently on either side of the zipper, making sure not to touch an inch of exposed skin. As if that imaginary line made all the difference, as if crossing it never even occurred to him.

“You can move away if you you’re uncomfortable.” His offer caught me off guard. He was giving me an escape. “I’m not one to keep a woman suffocated by my presence. Not you especially.”

“…” I let out a huff of my breath, not quite a laugh but close. “You’re saying something rather cheesy.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“It makes this awkward…”

“For you perhaps.”

Why was that even more unsettling?

Why wasn’t he as flustered? And at the same time, he wasn’t doing anything inappropriate. Could it be that I’m the one being delusional about it all? If so, this stupid heart of mine should calm down.

I had no idea to what to say again, nor how to respond, so I cleared my throat awkwardly, trying very hard to ignore the absurd rhythm my heart decided to adopt.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Those blue eyes of his met mine again through the reflection in the mirror, and for a split second, there was something unreadable in his eyes. But it was gone so quickly I wondered if I had imagined it.

“Very well.” He drew in a slow, deliberate breath returning his attention back to the zipper. “Try not to move this time. And suck it in.”

“I’m sorry, suck what in now?”

“Your breath, my dear wife.” He said rather mockingly, and without another warning, before I could even suck in my breath, I felt him drag the zipper down with force, then pulled it up with the same force that tugged me back against his body.

“There. All better.”

It took me a moment to come back to my senses, before I turned to him and upright glare at him.

“Didn’t know when I became a ragdoll all of a sudden.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so light.”

Ahhh, I truly want to beat him up.

I took in a deep breath to calm myself and then turned back to the mirror. The gown fitted perfectly, hugging my curves just right.

“Thank you…” I said, as I smoothened out the satin.

Alexander was already adjusting his cuff of his jacket from what I could spot from his reflection, before he looked up.

“You’re welcome.”

“That’s all then?”

“Should there be more?” He asked with a bit of a frown.

“I don’t know. I expected a lecture from my boss.”

“What for?” His lips twitched almost imperceptibly. “You talk enough for us both already.” My jaw dropped at his words, the offense was obvious but I felt more respect at his roasting.

“Did you just insult me?”

“I made an observation.”

“Wow, that’s even worse.”

“Back to the party then.” He said, and I grabbed my purse.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just offend me, Mr. Thorne.”

“Ignorance is bliss, Chloe.”

We both walked out of the suite, joining the guests at the ballroom again. The party went well and I seemed to have gotten a bit close to Chairman Thorne and Madam Diane. Some of the guests tried to get in good favor with me which seemed rather sad to be honest. Because why curry favor with a fake wife? Either way, the night was wonderful regardless