Love-Hate Relationship

Chapter Two

A week later, Sasha was on a trip with her parents to meet her future mother-in-law and, of course, her soon-to-be husband, who was still a mystery to her. She had a pleasant yet terrifying feeling about this meeting. What if it turned out to be one of her exes who wanted to get back together after she had left him? What if it was an old acquaintance she had refused to sleep with? Who was this man who had accepted the proposal to marry her after just one look?

As they drove toward the countryside house, her eyes widened. Damn, she was going to marry into a rich family. They had already passed through the gate but were still driving past countless trees and flowers; everything was green and captivating. After ten to fifteen minutes in the car, they stopped in front of a mansion with fountains every hundred meters from the first one and many statues. The house looked like a fairy-tale palace, surrounded by lush greenery and flowers—it was beautiful.

Sasha was enchanted, already falling in love with the building. A few of the house servants came out to greet them with smiles. Angelica accepted their greetings with a radiant smile. They were led into the house, and a tall, beautiful woman approached them with a graceful stride, resembling the Queen of England. If Sasha didn’t know better, she would have believed it was her.

“Welcome, welcome,” the woman smiled. There was something about her that seemed familiar; her crystal blue eyes reminded Sasha of someone, someone she had never expected to meet again.

“Thank you,” Angelica smiled, and Nicholas followed suit.

The woman looked at Sasha and smiled. “This must be Sasha then, even more beautiful than I expected.”

Sasha smiled back at the woman, thinking, What a flattering tongue. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

The woman smiled again before leading them into the living room, where Sasha thought she might get lost if left alone in the house. The place was enormous—she meant huge. Her eyes widened as she admired the living room decor, with a chandelier that had eight to ten steps, glowing brilliantly in the room. There were three large portraits hanging in the hallway. One was of the woman, another of a man with dark blue eyes, likely her husband. The wealth practically radiated from the paintings.

The last portrait was of a young man who should be at least two years older than her. He had jet-black hair, slicked back as if he had just stepped out of the shower. His crystal blue eyes seemed to burn into hers, as if the portrait were alive and he was staring at her. He had a chiseled jaw and a perfectly pointed nose. A thin, sexy pink line stood where his lips should have been. He looked so familiar, and when it finally clicked, she gasped. After all, one never forgets their first love.

Sasha found herself staring at the portrait. Could it really be him, or was she so desperate to see him again that she imagined this person was him? She looked at the man in the painting and recalled seeing that face often, especially in the news. He resembled Joseph Brown. She looked at the woman in the painting—if he was Joseph Brown, then she was Vanessa Brown, which would make him… She looked at the portrait of the young man before her: Michael Brown.

She took a deep breath and looked around. Did this mean she was in the Browns' house? The billionaire family? She thought about it. Of course, only the Browns could land the Jack and Jones contract. She turned to look at the woman, who was casually chatting with her parents. Was she going to marry Michael? Her heart started racing. She found herself dying to meet her fiancé. Could it really be him? But then, it was known back in school that he was gay, which was also why she had never pursued him.

“Joseph will be here any moment, just finishing up some paperwork in his study,” Vanessa, whom Sasha now recognized, said to her parents. Sasha’s heart raced even faster. She really wanted to ask about him, to be sure he was the one. It would be heartbreaking to get her hopes up for nothing.

“That’s fine; we can wait,” her mother said. “And Michael?”

“Oh, he’ll be here soon, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s eager to see his fiancée.” Vanessa smiled at Sasha. “Now I see why he chose you at first sight—you are quite the beauty.”

“Oh, please, you flatter us,” Angelica responded, though there was a clear look of pride on her face as she gazed at her daughter.

Michael, Sasha’s mind repeated. Could it be a different Michael? Was she mistaken? She couldn’t believe how casually they were all chatting while she was on the verge of a breakdown. Why hadn’t her parents told her, so she could prepare herself mentally? She had already concluded that she would never see him again in this life, and now here she was, about to marry him.

Her legs went weak, and she sat down on the nearest available couch. She needed to control her emotions. She always denied it, but she knew deep down that he was the reason she hadn’t settled with anyone else. She had always hoped to find his qualities in others, and when they didn’t have them, she grew frustrated and broke up with them. She wanted him, desperately, but something always scared her away—the fact that he was gay.

The last time she had seen him was two years ago during a trip to Canada for a reunion. Had she seen him as usual in the circle of his male friends or business partners? She couldn’t say. She had gone to the restaurant in her hotel for a drink and had seen him there. She had been stunned—he was the last person she had expected to see. And as usual, he hadn’t even noticed her. She had stayed in the restaurant for nearly three hours, stealing glances at him, but not once did he look her way.

A man greeting her father snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see the very man from the portrait, with nothing out of place. “Welcome,” he said.

Nicholas shook his hand, and then the man turned to her. “You must be Sasha.”

She nodded before smiling. “Yes, pleased to meet you.”

The man smiled. “Welcome to my home, Sasha. I hope you enjoy your time here as much as we look forward to enjoying your company.”

What a calm man, she thought, despite his wealth. “I hope so too.”

Joseph smiled before sitting down next to his wife, and they began a conversation with her parents that she mostly ignored. She couldn’t stop thinking about her fiancé, or the man she believed was her fiancé.

After an hour of chatting with the Browns, a tall man entered the living room. He was wearing a dark blue suit that matched his eyes, with a white shirt unbuttoned two or three notches. His hair was slicked back, gleaming. His chest was broad, and he walked gracefully toward his parents. Sasha couldn’t take her eyes off him—he was just as he had been two years ago: cool and handsome.

He greeted her parents with a nod and barely glanced at her, as if he didn’t even see her there. She swallowed and waited for the introduction she knew was coming soon.

“Michael, it’s been a while,” Nicolas said, and the young man lifted the corner of his lips into a slight smile in response.

“Son, I believe you know who these people are. This is Nicolas White and his wife, Angelica White. We’ve shared many business contracts with them,” Vanessa introduced before turning to her. “And here is their daughter, Sasha White, your fiancée.”

At that, he looked at her, and his crystal blue eyes burned into hers. For the first time in her memory, he looked at her for a full fifteen seconds. He only nodded later and then looked away. She let out a sigh, step by step, she told herself. After all, he had chosen her himself.

The family shared small talk for a while before deciding to have dinner, and not once did her so-called fiancé say a word to her. The family seemed oblivious to the matter, but it burned her up. She was dying to talk to him—he hadn’t said a single word since arriving. When people spoke to him, all he did was nod or lift the corner of his lips into a slight smile. She desperately wanted to hear his voice; it had been so long.

She wanted to ask him about himself, his life, why he had decided to marry her, and whether he still preferred men or women. She just wanted to hear him speak and had to force herself to eat, telling herself that maybe he would approach her after dinner. After all, they were about to get married—they needed to talk to each other, right? To get to know each other, even though they had known each other for thirteen years, from middle school to high school, they had barely been friends.

She could remember that back in school, the only words she could say to him were “hello, hi, and goodbye,” which he always, always responded to with a nod. He hardly ever spoke in class or anywhere at school, so his behavior tonight wasn’t much different. Back then, in school, you would only ever see him talking to his male friends—never once had he been seen talking to a girl. Then one day, a third-year student saw him in the bathroom with another third-year student, who had his pants down, and that was how the conclusion was drawn that he was gay. And not once had he denied it.

After dinner, they went to the drawing room, but he still didn’t say a word to her. He spent all his time talking to his parents, though he did lift the corners of his lips toward her once or twice, which frustrated her. It was as if they were engaged to be married yet would never speak to each other. Why had he picked her then? Why had he agreed to this marriage? She wondered what he had been told about her, but whatever it was, he didn’t seem interested in getting to know her.

She sighed, knowing she couldn’t do anything about it now. However, if they were to marry, she would eventually break that habit of his, get him talking to her more. She would make it happen. And he would have no choice but to accept her as his wife.