Heart Bound By Contract

Dinner party

Chapter 4

Dinner Party

*The dining room buzzed softly with soft, warm sounds of laughter* as the country's best business brains were special guests at Alexander's dinner party. Chandeliers shining in evening wear illuminated the extended dining table, and scraping knives and murmurs of conversation echoed through the air. Alexander Magnus was the undisputed king at dinner, his demeanor obvious of command and his smile not given at once but firmly in restraint.*.

Lauren sat beside him, s******g brand-new, immaculately clean white dress fashionably rumpled, struggling a tough time to suppress her fake smile from betraying what was occurring in her brain. She continued to reassure all the others on being a good wife in the warm conversation. Society folks at either adjacent table near them who knew Melissa McCarthy exchanged cackles and wiggling eyebrows when they looked at Lauren.

Then, in a whirl of flair, a well-dressed woman who sported a suit of light-colored fabric stepped forward and boomed, "I remember Melissa always being the right style. That is not what we were accustomed to." It was sarcastically said in full volume, and Lauren felt shrinking from the spotlight.

Alexander had his arm around Lauren tightly. "Pay no mind," he breathed into her ear, his smooth voice low. "Tonight you are my wife, and we do what we have to."

Lauren's throat constricts on swallowing and she gestures with a nod, drinking her wine at slow, tortured deliberation as she resists shivering. Talk at the table continues, but the fury of the guilt nursed stare from all directions accusatory sets her apart, condemning her for her bold trespass on Melissa's rightful domain.

Throughout the evening, Alexander had been single-minded. He circulated from table to table, informing each of them that he was Lauren's husband. His arm is always over her, a tangible display of marriage. His greeting was warm, his smile practiced. But behind them is an intentional aim.

At break time, in the interval between lunch and dinner, one of their guests had mentioned something about competitive business, and Alexander had, of course, his deep rich one. However, every moment when his hand rested on Lauren's backside, she quivered. She fully recognized all that his contact involved possession and not relaxation.

At one time, as the guests were complimenting Alexander on the night being so pretty, Melissa walked into the dining room. She was dressed to the nine and walked in with confident swagger, floating between the strings of twinkle lights like a ghost. Her eyes met Lauren's, and there was tense silence between the two women.

When she had gotten out of class, Melissa asked Lauren to step back from the table. They moved to the lounge corner, where they were not within earshot of the socialites. Melissa's voice was whispery and on the verge of supplicant. "Lauren, listen," she begged, staring intently into Lauren's eyes. "Alexander is always going to be mine. You know there is nothing that is ever going to make that any different."

Lauren's cheeks flamed with rage and sorrow. She replied, her whisper bordering on being too low to be heard, "I—I am doing the best I can. I have no other choice here."

Melissa stepped one step further. "I know you are, but hear me on one thing. I loved him. He's mine in a way you would never get. Whatever you may ever do, you're playing it. You can never be his heart."

Lauren didn't say anything, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes but not falling, otherwise utterly silent. Melissa gave a final glance back of sadness, then turned and began walking the way she'd come to reconnect with the remainder of the party.

Jordan, Alexander's cousin, brought up the rear and watched. He smiled when he saw what was happening. The game was too close to him, and he had too many of his own schemes. "This is going to be great fun," he said to himself, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched and took in every detail.

Formal dinner reconvened in the later hours of the evening. Alexander mingled between tables, never more than arm's length from Lauren. People got more spirited as conversation turned toward potential projects and investments. All Lauren could do was seethe at Melissa's cold words and Alexander's cold touch.

Once dessert had been served, a few of the lights had been dimmed and some soft music had been played. The evening dinner party was coming to a close, and everyone was unwinding and getting into their stride. Alexander stood up from the table and started walking over to Lauren again because they were going to bid farewell to the other party guests.

He moved in beside her, inches from where only Lauren could find out what he intended to tell her. His tone was soft, almost sweet, but with an edge of cold he could not set aside. "Lauren," he breathed, his gaze meeting hers, "tonight you were the perfect wife."

Before Lauren had an opportunity to say a word, Alexander stood between them. Before their guests, he drew her into his arms and kissed her fervently. The sudden action made the guests gasp and whispers circulate in the crowd.

Melissa at the door stared aghast as the drama played itself out. Eyes snapped open all over the room as the kiss was fleeting before it had even begun, curtly ended by Alexander. Whispers so that Lauren could hardly catch them, he breathed into her ear, and his voice was bitter, "Don't flatter yourself. It was only a strategy."

For a moment, the party music was silent. Lauren cringed in shock and pain. The kiss, so brazenly and publicly given, was not a kiss of passion but of intent.

The room gasped and fell silent in shock. Lauren was there, immobile, suspended between what she had to be and what she would become. And among all the people in the room who saw it, Alexander remained resolute, his face unyielding and unwavering.

Jordan's grin widened as he glanced over at Melissa, who was contorting her face into a scowl of shock and anger. The surprise, tight evening had only worsened.

Lauren took a step back, gasping in little, shakily drawn breaths as she struggled to keep pace with what had happened. Exposed and naked, she felt, and yet a flame of determination was burning in her eyes.

And as the visitors started to murmur their rumors and music slowly receded into the distance, Lauren looked at Alexander, her heart pitifully breaking into tiny fragments second by second.

Despite this, Alexander's grip on her arm was unshakable, a physical reminder to all of them that nothing in this fake production was occurring by chance. The grip he maintained was one that could not be loosened, and even as Lauren did wish to complain, part of her knew she could do nothing but acquiesce to the conditions of this un-romantic, businesslike arrangement.

The laughter and the banter began creeping back in, but Melissa's words and that amazing kiss lingered. She couldn't help but think she would ever be anything but a pawn to anyone.

The nighttime performance went on very slowly. Individuals began to rise from their seats, yet they still whispered to one another and scowled at one another concerning the phenomenal performance. Lauren remained seated for quite some time, looking in the direction of the door through which Melissa had disappeared. She had no idea what awaited her, yet one thing was certain: life would never remain the same.

Alexander proceeded to put an end to the evening. "Thank you for coming out this evening," he stated, his deep voice commanding. "We are eagerly anticipating tomorrow."

The moment the last of the guests had departed, the weight of the evening rested squarely on Lauren. Alexander stepped forward again to stand by her side, his arm around her as ever, offering her no solace—other than the fact that she was a captive in his house.

At that final moment when the doors of the mansion had shut on the final of the guests, Lauren's heart pounded in bewilderment. The flash of feeling, the low warning, and the cold resolve behind them were unexpected, did not compute.

She met Alexander at night, and there was but an unbreakable resolve, with a threat which indicated what was to be, shining in his eyes.

And in the dimly lit dining room, a single lonely sentence continued to echo in Lauren's mind—a sentence that would taunt every step she took during the next few days.

"Don't flatter yourself. It was only a strategy."