Page 207 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“I heard the same thing,” I say with joy I’ve mustered up out of the deep pit of my very soul. “Looks like it’s going to be a long-lasting marriage.”
She smiles softly and then glances over at Archie. “I think so too.” She then takes my hand in hers and says, “Thank you again. You truly saved the day.”
And now I feel bad for having bitchy thoughts in my head. I guess despite being uncomfortable, heartbroken, and just flat-out depressed due to my current state of events, I have to admit that it does feel goodthat I was able to help Sheridan out. I can only imagine how stressful it is to get married, and losing a vital person for the day can’t be easy.
“It seriously was my pleasure,” I say and then give her a hug. She squeezes me tight and waves bye to me.
Okay, so does that mean I’m relieved of my duties? Because boy would I love to slip out of this corset?—
“You looked great out there.” I turn to find Devin standing next to me, looking all proper in his ascot and velvet waistcoat. “Didn’t know you could dance that well.”
Neither did I, but if anything, I’ve learned to rise to the occasion.
“Thank you,” I say as I catch him glancing at my breasts.
Jesus, Devin.Guess he didn’t get the hint last time Hudson spoke to him.
“Save a dance for me later?”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I ask. “I think we know what happened last time.”
“We can’t dance as friends?” he asks.
“Would it really be dancing as friends?”
He wets his lips and then takes a step closer. “Do you really love him?”
“She does,” Hudson says, as he slips his arm around my waist. In a low, terrifying tone, he continues, “And unless you want to lose your fucking life, stay away from her.”
Then he guides me away from Devin and toward an open window that catches the breeze from the storm outside but is welcome because I need to cool off.
“You realize once we’re divorced, you can’t keep doing that.”
His grip on me tightens as he says, “I will always protect you, Sloane.”
I turn toward him, keeping up the appearance as if we’re having an intimate conversation. “Really? Where were you the last few days then?”
“I don’t want to do this here.”
I chuckle. “What do you want to do, then? Pretend to be a happy couple and enjoy the evening?”
His eyes soften and he quietly says, “Dance with me.”
Vulnerability laces his eyes, and it’s not a look I see from him often. Usually when he’s talking about his brother and sister but never in a business setting, and that’s what this is. We’re here on business.
“No.”
“Can I ask why?”
Can he ask why? Can I ask why he’s being so polite? Normally, he would demand I dance with him and stupid me would fall all over myself to agree to his command.
“Because the less I have to touch you, the better.”
“You’re my wife, Sloane,” he says quietly.
“And this isn’t actually the eighteen hundreds. I have a mind of my own and can make my own decisions, and my decision is to spend as little time with you as possible.”
He sighs and those eyes of his plead with me. “The problem with that is we’re in a situation where you can’t ignore me. We have to put on a good show. Therefore, you can either stand here with me, hold my hand, and let me occasionally run my lips up your neck, or you can dance with me.”
