Claimed At First Sight

CHAPTER 9: THE DRIVE HOME

Reign had never felt more mortified in her entire life.

She was sitting in her husband's car, a husband she had known for exactly twenty-four hours and a plus, while trying to stop sniffing, which seemed impossible unless she wanted her snort to drip down from her nose to her mouth.

Perfect. Just perfect.

"Here."

Dashiell's voice was quiet, almost awkward, as he pressed the cloth into her hand.

Reign took it without looking at him, her cheeks burning. "Thank you," she mumbled.

"I don't really know how to... handle this," he admitted, his voice almost sounding boyish. "The crying thing. I'm not very good at it."

It was clearly meant to make her smile. Maybe lighten the mood, but Reign couldn't even manage a smile. Instead, she turned toward the window, pressing the handkerchief to her face, trying to muffle the stupid, humiliating sounds coming out of her nose as she tried to get all the snort out.

God. Why him? Why did he have to show up tonight of all nights?

She closed her eyes, willing herself to disappear.

What were the odds that her husband, on paper only, would show up at the exact moment she was standing outside a club, crying like a pathetic, heartbroken i***t?

She mentally groaned, pressing the soft fabric harder into her face.

At least he hadn't seen the confrontation with Asher, and he hadn't heard her voice c***k when she had asked if what they had meant anything.

God, if he had witnessed that….

Reign shuddered.

That would've been unbearably humiliating.

Dashiell, on the other hand, said nothing as he put the car into drive, pulling smoothly onto the road.

The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. Each of them was lost in their thoughts.

Reign wiped at her nose for the last time, trying to pull herself together and look composed, even though she felt his eyes flick toward her once, twice. But thankfully, he didn't push. He didn't ask questions, and she was grateful for that, because honestly, she wouldn’t have known what to say… or where to even begin.

"Why were you at the club?" he asked finally, his voice carefully calm.

Reign winced.

Just my luck.

She swallowed. "I was with a friend."

"A friend,” Dash repeated, then said nothing after.

Reign glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His hands were wrapped around the steering wheel, his knuckles white, and veins standing out along his forearms.

He looked... tense…and angry.

But why was he angry?

The silence returned, heavier this time. And though it was uncomfortable, Reing wished it would stay that way this time. She stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past them, and tried to ignore the way her chest ached.

While Dash, on the other hand, replayed the scene he had witnessed in his mind.

Asher f*****g Rothwell.

He should've seen it coming. Reign worked at Rothwell Holdings, and Faeth, her best friend, was Asher's niece. But Dashiell had never imagined Asher and Reign were involved. It had been so classified that he doubted even Faeth was aware.

Asher was a snake, a manipulator, and a liar. A man who collected people like trophies and discarded them when they stopped being useful.

And Reign had been with him for three years?

That meant since she was twenty-two?

Dashiell's grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles ached.

How had he missed this?

More importantly, how was he supposed to sit here, drive her home, and pretend he didn't want to turn the car around and beat Asher senseless?

"That man who followed you out," Dashiell said carefully, forcing his voice to stay calm. "Was that your ex?"

Reign's entire body went rigid.

Her head whipped around so fast her neck cracked. "How do you…"

"I saw you arguing." His eyes stayed on the road, his expression maddeningly calm. "I was about to step in when he cornered you. But then you slapped him and walked away."

He glanced at her now, one eyebrow raised, and the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

"Good for you, by the way."

Reign stared at him, mortification flooding through her like ice water.

He had seen that?

"You... were there?" Her voice came out strangled.

Oh God! Could today turn any worse?

Dashiell kept his expression neutral as he drove.

Yes, he had seen the entire situation. He had heard Asher gaslight her, belittle her, and treat her as if she were disposable, and it required a lot of self-control to hold back from intervening. But he couldn't tell her that.

So he shrugged. "I was there for something important. Then I saw someone who looked like my wife leaving through the front door. Wanted to make sure it was really you." He paused, glancing at her. "You know the rest."

Reign's embarrassment morphed into suspicion, then anger.

"And you just happened to be there?" Her brow raised. "At the same club? On the same night?" She crossed her arms under her chest, glaring at him. "Why do I find that so hard to believe?"

Dashiell's eyes dropped, just for a second, to where her arms pushed her breasts up slightly beneath her dress, before quickly looking away, his jaw tightening.

"It's my club, actually."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

He winced, biting the inside of his cheek.

Smooth. Real smooth.

That was classified information. He didn't go around advertising his properties. In fact, no one other than his trusted man, Travis, knew that he owed Giltap and many others. But she had distracted him. Her body did, and now he had given away more than he had intended.

“Your club,” Reign repeated slowly, processing.

"Yeah." He said with a light sigh.

She just stared at the side of his head, confused.

Her mother had said 'manageable'. Which meant middle-tier wealthy: Comfortable, but not extravagant enough to own a club as huge and influential as that.

Was she missing something, or did her mother make a mistake? She really needs to check this man. Why did she always keep forgetting?

Dashiell's tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. "That's... classified, though. A secret." He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "So congratulations. You're now one of the few people who know."

Reign didn't know what to say to that.

She was so confused, with her humiliation morphing into something that made her want to shrink away.

He had seen her with Asher. Does that mean he heard everything?

Had he been standing there, listening to her pathetic confrontation with Asher? Watching her beg for scraps of affection from a man who didn't even respect her?

She closed her eyes, groaning softly, her forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window.

Kill me now.

Dashiell, on the other hand, watched her from the corner of his eye.

She looked miserable, embarrassed and small. And he hated it.

"Is that why you were in such a hurry to get married?” Dashiell asked carefully. “Running from him?"

Reign's eyes snapped open.

"That's none of your business.".

His jaw clenched.

Wrong move.

He could feel her pulling away, walls slamming back into place.

"You're my wife," he said quietly. "That makes it my business now."

"On paper only." Reign countered.

The words came out harsher than she'd intended, but she didn't take them back.

Dashiell's hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white, and the veins in his forearms stood out like cords.

He wanted to argue, wanted to tell her that maybe it had started as a paper marriage, but he was going to treat her and accord her the same respect as a real one. But he said nothing.

He just stared straight ahead, his expression hard as stone.

Reign looked away as well, her own anger boiling.

She didn't owe him explanations. She didn't owe him anything.

They had made a deal. A business arrangement, and that was it.

"You know what...Just drop me off here," she said all of a sudden.

"No."

The word came out sharper than he'd intended.

Reign's head snapped toward him. "Excuse me?"

Dashiell's eyes blazed as he glanced at her. "I'm taking you home. Your actual home. The one you live in."

"I didn't ask…"

"I don't care." His voice was tight. "I'm not dropping you off on some random street corner this late so you can what, walk the rest of the way? Try to order a ride that won't show up?"

He could feel his temper, the one he had been holding back all night, fraying.

Reign opened her mouth to argue.

"Don't." He cut her off. "Just... give me your address. We're already on the main road after all. Tell me where to go, and I'll take you there. And if you're uncomfortable sitting in this car with me for another ten minutes, then I suggest you deal with it, because I'm not stopping until we get there."

Reign stared at him, completely stunned that for a moment, all she did was just sit there, her mouth slightly open, completely thrown.

Then, slowly, she turned back toward the window.

"Maple Grove," she muttered. "Off Seventh Street."

Dashiell’s jaw remained tight as he turned onto the highway.

The rest of the drive passed in silence.

…..

When they pulled up in front of her father's house, Reign reached for the door handle immediately.

"Wait."

She froze.

Dashiell turned toward her, forcing his expression to soften.

This was his last chance.

"You should move in with me."

Reign blinked. "What?"

"Temporarily," he added quickly. "Just until…"

"No."

"Reign…"

"I said no." She turned to face him fully, her eyes narrowed. "I'm not moving in with you. We might be married, but I'm not moving in with you. At least, not yet"

Dashiell leaned back in his seat, choosing his words carefully.

"He knows where you live."

That stopped her.

He could see the anger in her eyes, but he kept on.

"Asher knows this address, doesn’t he? I’m not accusing him of anything… yet. But I saw the way he treated you tonight." Dashiell continued, his voice quiet but firm. "I doubt it’s the first time. He won’t let this go. He’ll show up here, especially after the slap. He’ll ...."

"I can handle…."

"And this house is under renovation, isn't it?" He gestured toward the dark windows. "It's empty. Which meant you're here alone."

Reign's jaw tightened. "I'm fine…."

"Stay at my place. For a few days or maybe a week, until the renovations are done and you've got people around. Staff. Security. Whatever you need."

He paused, then added with a faint smirk, "Or stay permanently. We're already married, after all."

It was clearly meant to be a joke, to lighten the mood, though his real reason was that he wanted her close. Seeing her with Asher woke something in him.

But Reign didn't laugh. In fact, her expression turned even more furious.

"You sound like you're stalking me," she said coldly, and Dashiell's smirk vanished.

Shit.

"You know about the renovations. You know about Asher." Her voice rose. "How do you know all of this? Have you been watching me?"

"I haven't…"

"Because that's what it sounds like." She grabbed the door handle, yanking it open. "And I don't appreciate it."

She stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

Dashiell sat there for a moment, staring after her.

Then he cursed under his breath, shifted the car into drive, and peeled away from the curb.

He didn't even wait to see if she made it inside.

He just left.

Because he was pissed, and she was being impossible.

"Women," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel hard enough to hurt. "They're only cute from a distance."