Joshua Wilkins: Arranged Marriage

Chapter 11: Joshua

She had laid out a silver tie. There was no way I was wearing that; it was simply not going to happen. The bathroom had been occupied for as long as she'd been home. Luckily, I was home a little earlier and had the chance to shower.

I went into the closet to find another tie. Her clothes hung on the right side, displaying a collection of dresses, pantsuits, and blouses. Jewelry was stored in drawers with glass tops, so she could see into them—these were the same drawers I usually kept my ties in.

With a groan, I turned to the left side of the closet, finding my drawer for the ties. I had them in many different colors, with many different themes. It was a guilty pleasure of mine, though I usually wore a simple, single-color tie.

I took out a black tie that complemented the color of my Saint Laurent suit. Then I walked back into the bedroom and started tying it. I knew she would be mad, but silver? How insistent could she be that I had to wear a silver tie?

“I thought you said you could dress yourself?” I heard the mockery in her voice behind me.

“I’m not wearing a silver tie,” I clarified and glanced at the tie lying on the bench at the foot of the bed. “I’m not that kind of man.”

“Then why do you have one?” I could feel her behind me, sense her energy—a commanding presence that demanded attention.

“You can have something and never use it.”

“Says the billionaire,” she mocked.

And then she came into view. My movements stopped. The tie wrapped around my fingers, but I couldn’t move. She looked amazing. She shone. She looked like a diamond.

Her figure was hugged by a silver satin dress, with a high neckline that extended down to her heels. It had a slit on the left thigh, showing off her perfectly shaped leg. The dress wasn’t revealing at all, but the way the fabric clung to her body made it seem like a second skin and gave her a godlike aura.

She picked up the silver tie and threw it over her shoulder before she stepped toward me and removed my hands. “I’ll know for next time, but I don’t have time to change, so now you have to be a good boy,” she pulled the black tie off my neck, “and wear the silver one for tonight.”

She tossed the black tie on the bed and put the silver one around my neck, starting to tie it. I should have known she would look beautiful, even with minimal makeup, making herself look elegant and almost royal. The only extreme was her red lips, which drew my gaze to them.

“You look—”

“Your grandfather visited me today,” she interrupted. Grandfather. That couldn’t be good; that was never good. “He told me to go bold tonight, which is the only reason I’m wearing this.”

“What did you talk about?” Did he tell you about the clause in the agreement I signed, about the three-month marriage period?

She shrugged as she continued to tie. “Not much. I think he just wanted to know me a little. Apparently,” a small smirk appeared on her lips, “I’m a catch.”

“Are you? Who told you that?” The mockery was thick in my voice.

She slapped me on the arm and gave me a pointed look. “He told me the suitors were lining up to get me.”

“I’m sure they would scatter after you opened your mouth.” She tightened the tie around my neck with precision, just a tad too tight.

Her way of inflicting pain on me was quite different from what I had expected. I had never thought I would be marrying this type of woman. Lydia was full of surprises. From the way she controlled her calorie intake, to the way she talked to the manuscripts she read—mostly if she didn’t agree with them—to the way she would give me a hard time and throw comebacks at me like she did it professionally, and then to the way she almost defended me yesterday at dinner with Daniel Garrett. Full of surprises.

“Be careful, fiancé,” she warned, “you make it sound like you don’t love the things my mouth does.”

Every muscle in my body tensed at her words, and the cocky smile on her lips made my heart race. What in God’s name was happening? The green emeralds in her eyes looked into mine, filled with humor and delight. A look I hadn’t seen before.

Was she flirting with me?

No, she couldn’t be. She wouldn’t be. She hadn’t before.

Her hands landed on my chest as she kept looking at me, searching for something. Whatever it was, I wasn’t sure she found it.

“So far,” I started, trying to somehow reciprocate, “your mouth has done nothing to be loved for.”

And then it happened. The thing I had waited for for almost a week. She smiled at me. A full-blown smile, showing dimples and creating lines at the sides of her eyes. It was pure perfection.

“Key phrase: so far.” My eyes diverted to her lips again, their fullness and plumpness. How red they were, and how much I wanted to feel them on mine. “Thank you,” she made my gaze return to hers, “for the jewelry.” One of her hands reached up and clasped the necklace she was wearing.

I c****d an eyebrow at her before she removed her hand and showed a simple diamond necklace. It matched the earrings she was wearing, and they all complemented her ring.

“You’re welcome, dearest,” I reached up and let my fingers touch one of the earrings. “I do have great taste, don’t I?”

“You sure do, fiancé.” She took a step back and took me in. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” I closed the suit jacket and fixed the sleeves while I spoke, “you?”

She nodded at me while she picked up a purse, also in silver fabric. “Let’s do this then.”

**

The limousine stopped outside Wilkins House, announcing our arrival. Photographers were ready outside, taking photos of people coming in and who they were with. My grandmother treated this party like an Oscar event, making sure all the impressive and influential people were here and knew what was happening.

The great heir was getting married. The golden boy of the Wilkins family had finally settled down, and now everyone wanted to see who it was. Lydia could not make a flaw tonight; she could not even choose the wrong canapé first, because then it would be all over the gossip magazines tomorrow, and her reputation would be ruined.

“Are you ready?” I asked as I turned toward her. Her beauty was breathtaking, and even though I could see the nerves, see how—not frightened but—shaky she was, I grabbed her hand.

“Just a second,” she answered with a nervous smile. She closed her eyes, taking away the green light, while taking a few deep breaths. I could feel her hand shaking in mine; she definitely knew how important tonight was too. “Okay.” As the word left her lips, a huge fake smile broke across her face. It looked real enough, but after seeing the real deal, I knew it was fake.

I opened the door and stepped out of the limousine. Cameras started flashing while I buttoned my suit jacket again and set my jaw. Carefully, I handed her my hand so she could grab it to get out. She took my left hand with her right one, and the cameras went crazy. Her long legs emerged first, followed by the rest of her as she stood, needing minimal help to stand because of the strength in her legs.

“Let’s see how good of an actor you are, dearest,” I whispered in her ear.

She turned to look at me, and then a dazzling and devastating smile broke across her face, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m the best at everything I do, fiancé,” she responded with mischief in her eyes.

She intertwined our fingers while her left hand landed on the bulge of my biceps, making the oval diamond shine in the lights from the cameras. Clever girl. Slowly we ascended the steps, receiving questions from reporters and enduring even more fervent camera clicks.

As we entered the foyer, we were greeted by my grandmother. “Grandson!” Her arms opened to me as she smiled widely, genuine happiness in her eyes.

“Grandmother,” I greeted her back, accepting her embrace and kissing her cheek.

“Oh, and this must be Lydia,” she clapped her hands together, taking in the sight of her. “Aren’t you just a treasure.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilkins, it’s a beautiful home you have.” The fake smile dimmed a little as she spoke.

My grandmother placed her hands on Lydia’s shoulders, looking up into her eyes. “Please, call me Antonia.” And then she pulled her into a hug, making me smile a little too, though it disappeared as I heard the cameras clicking. “I tried to get your grandfather to come out here and greet you two,” she started as she let go of Lydia, “but he had important business.”

Lydia let out a melodic laugh, smiling more genuinely at her. “Don’t men always?”

Never had I seen a bigger smile on my grandmother’s face than the one that came at Lydia’s words. “Oh honey, you’re just perfect.”

I already knew that. Pure perfection. It almost hurt knowing. Knowing how perfect she was, and I was still going to ruin all of this. In any other circumstance, I probably would have been happy with Lydia, and maybe—possibly—chosen to settle down with a woman like her.

“We should make our rounds,” I smiled stiffly at my grandmother before taking Lydia’s hand and wrapping it around my arm.

“We will talk later,” she smiled at my grandmother.

Slowly but surely, I dragged her into the crowd, greeting important men and women alike, always introducing Lydia as my fiancé. She kept up her appearance flawlessly and executed the show with excellence. We made our way into the large greenhouse, where my grandparents hosted parties in early spring and summer. It was as spacious as it could be in the middle of New York, easily accommodating 80 people, and there was no doubt that at least 80 people were there.

A small band was stationed at the far end, playing classical music—a piano, a guitar, a violin, and a bass—all dressed in their usual uniforms. Waiters circulated the room, offering champagne and a variety of canapés.

“Are you—” I started, but was cut off.

“Mon étoile!” (My star) I heard Mathèo’s voice exclaim.

“Mathèo!” Lydia suddenly responded, letting go of my arm to embrace him as he kissed both of her cheeks.

Mathèo was immaculately dressed as always, wearing his trademark French suit that fit closely to his slender frame. The suit was royal blue, and with the vest inside, making it a three-piece suit, with a pocket watch adding an extra touch of elegance. His black hair was combed back, highlighting his proper features and emphasizing his chocolate brown eyes.

“You never mentioned Lydia was your fiancé,” he grinned at me, still holding his arm around Lydia’s waist.

“I didn’t know you knew her.”

“Mathèo was my partner in ballroom dancing,” she smiled at me. “I didn’t know you knew him.”

I hated those kinds of smiles because, even though she smiled at me, I knew I wasn’t the reason for it. Mathèo had earned that smile. It was his smile, and I was merely experiencing the aftermath of it.

“You’re a lucky man,” Mathèo grinned even wider at me. “I always wondered who would be the luckiest man alive, not knowing it would be one of my friends.”

She blushed. She blushed! The first time I saw her blush, and it was because of Mathèo. It made my core burn.

“I know I am,” I said through gritted teeth, almost terrified my jaw might crack from the sheer pressure building up inside me.

I don’t know if Lydia could sense my dread or anger, but she stepped away from Mathèo with an almost guilty look on her face, like she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“We should continue,” she mumbled, making Mathèo look at her and then at me. He only nodded a small reply as we continued further through the greenhouse.

We stopped when we reached Christopher Kissinger, one of the board members of Wilkins Co. He was dressed in a black suit with a standard black tie, and on his arm was one of the socialites. I hadn’t learned her name yet, but she was at least twenty years younger than him and wore jewelry so shiny it looked fake.

“Lydia! Congratulations.” Her greeting sounded shrill.

“Thank you, Martha,” I heard Lydia respond as I conversed with Christopher.

“Imagine our surprise when we found out,” she smiled at Lydia, almost sickly. “Lydia Conner, the working girl, finding a match like this! Amazing!” The snickering sounded awful in my ears, and it seemed like Christopher had no idea it was happening. “Or maybe we should start calling you Mrs. Wilkins.”

“—so maybe the stock would do alright—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I smiled politely at Christopher, “but I am sure my grandmother will come after us if we stay in one place too long.”

Christopher’s sour face turned stone cold. I hated most of the board members; they were just as devoid of feeling as my grandfather, set in their ways, opinions, and attitudes. If it were up to them, Wilkins Co. would never evolve, never reinvent itself, and that would ultimately be the company’s demise.