Chapter 9 'Celia': The wrong kind of hope

I didn't answer immediately, 

The question caught me off guard that I wasn't sure on what to say. 

So the question just hung between us.

Why did you agree to marry me?

A year ago, I would have answered without hesitation.

Because my family forced me.

Because I had no choice.

Because saying no had never changed anything.

But standing in the kitchen at one in the morning, looking at Adrian across the counter, those answers suddenly felt incomplete.

Not wrong.

Just incomplete.

Because somewhere along the way, things had changed.

Or maybe I had.

I looked away at first.

"My family needed the Lancaster deal."

His gaze remained on me.

"That's all?"

I swallowed hard.

The answer should have been yes.

Instead, something inside me tightened.

Because that wasn't all.

There had been another reason,

A very stupid and childish one at that

One I had never admitted to anyone.

Not even myself.

Before the wedding, before the deception, before everything went wrong

I had seen Adrian Lancaster exactly twice.

Both times were during business functions that my father dragged me to because he needed someone to carry paperwork.

The first time, Adrian had stopped to help an elderly investor who had dropped his cane.

Nobody else had noticed him. 

Adrian had.

The second time, he had spent nearly twenty minutes listening to a junior employee explain a mistake instead of firing him on the spot.

Again, nobody else had cared.

But I had noticed.

Back then, I had thought

No.

I pushed the memory away immediately.

Because it was embarrassing.

Because it didn't matter.

Because I had no business remembering things like that.

"Celia?"

His voice pulled me back.

I realized I'd been staring into space.

"The deal," I repeated quietly.

"My family needed it."

Adrian studied me for another moment.

Then nodded.

He knew I wasn't telling him the whole truth.

Thankfully, he didn't push.

The relief was immediate.

And strangely disappointing.

What was wrong with me?

I stood abruptly.

"I should go to sleep."

This time, Adrian didn't stop me.

I hurried upstairs before I could do something foolish.

Like stay.

The next morning, I regretted everything.

Not because anything inappropriate had happened.

Because nothing had happened.

That was the problem.

Now I couldn't stop thinking about it.

The conversation.

The questions.

The way he'd listened.

The way he'd looked at me.

I hated myself for noticing.

"Horrible night?"

I nearly dropped my fork.

Eleanor sat beside me at breakfast looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"What?"

"You have the face."

"What face?"

"The face people make when they spend the entire night thinking."

Heat climbed into my cheeks immediately.

Across the table, Vivian looked up from her coffee.

I froze.

Thankfully, she seemed more interested in her newspaper.

Eleanor wasn't.

Not even a little.

The smile she gave me was positively wicked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't."

I stabbed a piece of fruit.

Violently.

Eleanor laughed.

The sound drew Adrian's attention.

For one terrible second, our eyes met.

My pulse immediately betrayed me.

Ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

I looked away so quickly I nearly gave myself whiplash.

Unfortunately, Eleanor noticed that too.

The smile on her face widened.

Traitor.

The day should have improved.

Instead, it got worse.

Around noon, Eleanor asked me to help organize several heirloom jewelry boxes she kept in one of the smaller sitting rooms.

It was one of my favorite activities.

Old jewelry fascinated me.

Every piece carried a story.

And a beautiful memory.

I carefully lifted an antique emerald brooch from its velvet cushion.

The craftsmanship was beautiful.

Delicate.

Elegant.

Timeless.

"That belonged to my grandmother."

I looked up.

Eleanor smiled softly.

"She wore it to every important event in her life."

The affection in her voice made me smile.

"It must mean a lot to you."

"It does."

Her gaze shifted toward me.

"That's why I know who should inherit it."

My hands froze.

No.

Absolutely not.

"Eleanor..you.."

"I haven't said anything."

"You were thinking it."

She laughed.

Completely unapologetic.

Before I could argue, the door opened.

My heart instantly forgot how to behave.

Adrian walked in.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

Why did he keep appearing lately?

And why did I notice?

Those were two separate problems.

Neither had a good answer.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Yes," I said.

"No," Eleanor said.

At the same time.

Adrian's mouth twitched while Eleanor looked delighted. 

I considered throwing the brooch out the window.

The afternoon only became more unbearable after that.

Because Adrian stayed.

Apparently, Eleanor had decided we were both free labor.

For the next hour, we worked side by side organizing heirloom pieces.

Every time I thought I'd relaxed, I'd become aware of him again.

His voice.

His hands.

His presence.

It was exhausting.

At one point, we both reached for the same jewelry box.

Our fingers brushed.

Again.

The contact lasted less than a second.

Yet my heartbeat immediately launched itself into another dimension.

I pulled back so quickly I nearly dropped the box.

Adrian caught it before it hit the floor.

His hand closed over mine briefly.

Steadying it.

The room seemed to stop breathing.

Then

"Celia."

The voice sliced through the moment like a knife.

I knew that voice.

Unfortunately.

Sienna.

The warmth vanished instantly.

I turned.

She stood in the doorway.

Beautiful, perfect but very furious. 

Nobody else would have noticed.

I did.

Because I had spent twenty-four years learning how to recognize danger.

And right now, Sienna looked dangerous.

Her gaze flicked from me.

To Adrian.

Then back again.

Understanding flashed across her face.

For one terrifying second, I realized something.

She saw it.

But not everything.

Not the feelings I was trying desperately to ignore.

But enough.

Enough to know something had changed.

Enough to know she was losing control.

Enough to know she wouldn't sit quietly and let it happen.

A smile spread across her face.

The kind that always meant trouble.

And suddenly, for the first time in months

I felt afraid again because something terrible was coming.