The Subtitute Bride

Chapter 10: His Shirt Is Ruined

The car ride home was quiet, but not the awkward silent from before. This silence was different. Heavy. Tense.

Rhys's white shirt was stained with red wine. Vanessa's wine. His jacket was around Kaela's shoulders, but his shirt was sticking to his chest, wet and ruined.

Kaela couldn't stop looking at it. Or at him.

"Stop staring," Rhys said, his voice low.

"I... I'm not staring! I'm looking at the stain! Your shirt is ruined because of me," she said quickly.

He looked at her. In the dim light of the car, her red dress, his jacket, her shaky hands.

"It's just a shirt, Kaela."

"It's an expensive shirt!"

He suddenly leaned closer and took off his jacket from her shoulders, fixing it properly around her. His fingers brushed her bare shoulder. "You're shaking."

"I'm not. I'm just cold."

"You were scared back there," he said softly. It wasn't a question.

Kaela looked down. "A little. Everyone was looking at me like I was... like I was trash."

"You are not trash," Rhys said, his voice suddenly hard. "You are my wife. Don't ever let anyone make you feel like that again."

The car stopped at the penthouse parking lot.

Inside the elevator, Rhys was still standing too close. Kaela could see the wine dripping down his shirt. She could see his chest through the wet fabric.

"Rhys, you need to change. You'll get sick."

"You care?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I care! You're my... you're my contract husband. If you get sick, who's going to pay for my mom's hospital bills?" she tried to joke.

He didn't laugh. He just stared at her lips. Her red lipstick was slightly smudged.

When they reached the penthouse, Kaela ran to the bathroom to get a towel. When she came back, Rhys was in the living room, trying to unbutton his ruined shirt. His fingers were struggling because the wine made it sticky.

"Let me help," Kaela said before she could think.

She stepped closer. Her hands were shaking as she tried to unbutton his shirt. One button. Two buttons. Three buttons.

Her fingers accidentally brushed his warm chest.

Rhys sucked in a breath.

"Sorry!" Kaela gasped.

"Don't be sorry," he whispered.

She continued unbuttoning. Fourth button. Fifth button. The shirt was now open, revealing his hard chest, his abs. Kaela's face was bright red.

"Kaela," Rhys said, his voice husky.

"Hmm?" She couldn't look up. If she looked up, she would see his face too close.

"Rule Number Two."

"What about it?" she whispered.

"You said no kissing unless for the press. But what if... what if I want to kiss you not for the press?"

Kaela's heart stopped. Her hands froze on his shirt.

"Rhys..."

He gently took the towel from her hand and threw it on the sofa. Then he cupped her face, his thumb wiping the smudged lipstick on her corner.

"You look beautiful when you're flustered, you know that?" he said.

"This is against the rules," she said, but her voice was so small.

"I know. I wrote the rules. And I'm breaking all of them for you," he said.

He was so close now. Kaela could feel his breath. She could feel his chest rising and falling. His shirt was completely open now.

"Your shirt..." she tried one last time.

"Forget the shirt," he said.

And then he kissed her.

Not a fake kiss for the cameras. Not a forehead kiss. A real kiss. On her lips. Slow, deep, and possessive. Like he had been holding it back since the day she walked down the aisle in sneakers.

Kaela gasped, and he took that chance to deepen the kiss. Her hands, which were supposed to push him away, ended up clutching his ruined, wet shirt.

It was wrong. It was against the contract. But it felt so right.

After what felt like forever, he pulled away, both of them breathing hard. His forehead rested on hers.

"That," he whispered, "was not for the press."

Kaela couldn't speak. Her lips were swollen, her red lipstick completely ruined.

Rhys smiled for the first time that night. A real smile. "Now your lipstick is really ruined."

"You ruined it!" she said, hitting his chest lightly.

"And I'd ruin it again," he said, pulling her closer.

Just then, his phone rang loudly. It was Grandmother Eleanor.

Rhys groaned. "I have to take this."

He answered, still holding Kaela with one arm, his shirt still open. "Grandma?"

"RHYS! I saw the news! You protected your wife! Finally you acted like a real husband! I'm so proud!" Grandmother shouted so loud Kaela could hear it.

Rhys looked at Kaela, who was hiding her red face in his chest.

"Grandma, we're in the middle of something," Rhys said.

"Oh! Oh I see! Okay, okay, I'll call tomorrow! But Kaela, dear, keep that shirt! It