The Fourth Wife

Chapter 4: Marriage number four

DOMINIC'S POV

She walked down the aisle, slow and steady, hand in hand with her dad. At least she has one.

When she reached me, he let go, and finally I looked at her gown. I shouldn't have. It reminded me of another wedding. Another bride. A memory I didn’t ask for.

I quickly shoved it back down. This wasn't the past. This was business. A transaction between two families. That’s all weddings ever were to me now; contracts dressed up in white lace.

She was trembling too much. If she didn’t stop, everyone would notice.

I leaned closer, my voice low only for her to hear.

“Stand still. Everyone’s watching.”

And she did. Good. She listened. Maybe this would be easier than I thought.

The priest’s words rolled over me. I’d heard them before, too many times. Same vows, same blessings, same tone like he was reading from a script older than both of us. I could almost mouth along with him, like an actor in a play I was tired of performing.

I repeated after him, and when he asked the question I replied, “I do.”

It was very easy to say. Almost as if I was answering an attendance.

It was just another step in a process I already knew too well.

I glanced at her. She looked like she might break if the wind blew too hard. Still, she said the words. “I do.”

And that was it. It was sealed.

Marriage number four.

Practice doesn’t make perfect. It just makes you numb.

The priest’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Finally, the last step. Just a quick kiss to satisfy the crowd.

But the second my lips met hers, something went wrong. Her lips were soft and sweet. I didn't know what I was expecting but it wasn't that.

I wanted to pull away, but I leaned in. And before I could stop my hands, they found her neck. She kissed me back gently. Damn, she's good.

And that was when I caught myself thinking about it. Her mouth and how it tasted. Irritating. Of all the useless details to notice, my brain chose this one. I shut it down fast.

The second my lips left hers, the clapping started. It was really loud. They were smiling as if they just witnessed the love story of the century. They hadn’t, but their fake smiles said otherwise.

Well, that was fun. I stepped back, kept my face unreadable. She looked flustered… or maybe breathless. I couldn't tell which.

The applause finally died down, and then they began to swarm like bees. One after another. “Congratulations,” “What a beautiful couple,” “She’s very beautiful.” Their voices blurred together, a choir of shallow praise.

My uncle clapped me on the shoulder a little too hard. “Congratulations, son. This one will last.” I forced a thin smile. Last? He knew better.

Her parents beamed at her, proud and relieved, as if she’d just saved them both, which, in a way, she had. She clung to her bouquet like it was her last line of defense. I almost pitied her. Almost.

And still they kept coming. Did they really not get tired? Fourth time, and the room was still full. How many people did I know who were eager to waste hours clapping for me, smiling like this wasn’t déjà vu? Didn’t they have better things to do than watch me sign and seal another doomed contract?. Most of them had definitely congratulated me before, literally in this same hall, also same speech, but different bride.

Then came a child, maybe six or seven, tugging at his mother’s sleeve. He squinted up at me and said, far too loudly, “Didn’t you already marry someone else before?” The mother’s face was instantly red. She dragged him away with frantic shushing. I only smirked. At least the kid had more honesty than half the guests here.

The applause had long since ended, but the buzzing of voices carried on until it felt suffocating. Before she could slip away to meet anyone else, I leaned in, and said, “Follow me.”

I walked, and didn’t even check to see if she hesitated. I knew she would answer. She followed, her bouquet still in her hand, heels clicking against the marble.

We passed people still whispering, some turning to look at us. The further we walked, the easier it was to breathe.

Finally, we were out of sight from the crowd. It was quiet here. I turned, and stopped. She looked like she was exhausted. First wedding can be like that.

After looking around to make sure no one was here, I started, “Listen up, Alina.”

Her head jerked like she couldn't believe her ears. She looked down at her bouquet and whispered, “It's Aria.”

Oh.

“Whatever,” I said almost immediately, because I had something to say, and names weren’t important now.

“So, Aria.” I looked at her because I said it correctly this time. She didn’t give any expression, so I continued, “When you get to my place, someone will show you to your room. I won’t be following you back, and don’t wait up for me, I’ll be back late.”

I saw something flicker on her face. Did she just frown?

It didn’t matter, so I continued, “I don’t know the history you have with my uncle, but he asked me to take care of you.” I couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. “But he let you marry me. I guess he only cares about your parents’ debt and not…” I wanted to say something else, but decided to scare her because it was more fun, “…he doesn’t care if you’ll even live long enough to see your parents’ business restored.”

Her eyes widened. Finally, fear.

Cruel? Maybe. But fear kept people predictable.

I looked at my watch, then added one more thing, “A chauffeur will take you whenever you are ready to leave. Use him.”

I put one of my hands in my pocket, and lastly I said, “I guess I’m done here. See you when I see you, Wife.”

I gave her a wink and left.