Page 33 of Forgetting the Enemy
Chapter 13
Zaira
Now that I have got him here kinda alone, as Ricco is always close by, I’m nervous. I want to apologize to him for last night, but the thing is, I’m not sorry. I wanted to kiss him, and I wanted more from him. The reality of it all is he didn’t want me.
He sits back down on the lounge chair across from me and says, “What’s up?” He’s indifferent and distant, and I know it has something to do with what happened between us last night. I was hopeful when he sat with me on the lounge while my brother was here. He even held my hand, but now I see it was all an act for my brother’s sake.
So instead of professing my apologies or more appropriately that I’m not sorry, I say, “Michael, may I ask one thing?”
He replies, “Of course.”
“Is our engagement and subsequent marriage the result of an arrangement between our families?”
He gives me a surprised look but doesn’t say anything.
Feeling more nervous and realizing I am most likely right about my suspicions, I continue to speak. “I mean, I know things like that still happen between wealthy families, and it is obvious we are that. I don’t know. But after last night and your—oh hell, Michael, I don’t know. Will you say something, please?”
“No, Zaira, our marriage is not an arrangement between our families.”
That’s it. That’s all he’s gonna tell me? I don’t understand.
“If you would prefer to call off our engagement, I understand,” I say, sensing that is exactly what he wants. “Obviously I am not the same woman you proposed to—”
Suddenly a memory flash invades my mind. I see a man handing me a diamond ring, saying flatly, “Wear this.”Where did that come from? Is it a memory of when Michael proposed? Could he have really proposed to me like that?
“What is it?” Michael asks as he grabs my hand. For a minute, his cold exterior melts, and I see genuine concern come across his face.
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say, a bit confused. He looks at me curiously, but I give him nothing else. I continue with the conversation at hand. “So, about our engagement, if you want to call—”
“No, Zaira,” he says, interrupting me. “We are not calling off our engagement.” The temperature drops twenty degrees, taking the warmth I just experienced from him away. He gets up from the lounge and then says, “Is that all?”
His abruptness hurts me more with each word he utters, but instead of showing him how much, I reply, “Yes, that’s all.”
“Fine then. I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” he says and turns to leave, Ricco following behind him. I almost forgot that Ricco was still here. He always remains close enough to protect Michael all the while allowing us some privacy.
I’m not really sure what just happened. Ever since I got here, Michael has been nothing but caring, attentive, and even loving. He’s the man whose kisses I didn’t want to stop last night. He’s the man whom I wanted to give me so much more. The man who, up until a few minutes ago, I trusted. But now, something has happened. He’s cold and distant, and I have no idea who he is.
I’m scared.
And for some reason, I’m heartbroken. I don’t remember loving Michael. Being with him doesn’t feel familiar, and I think perhaps I just had a brief glimpse of our engagement. The man in my memory was not a man who loved me or a man who would cherish me. That man was marrying me out of obligation and nothing more.
So I’m to be an obligation.
I could back out of the marriage, leave here, and build a life of my own? I could, but I know I won’t. I may be an obligation to Michael, but something inside me is telling me this is what I am supposed to do because of obligations of my own.
It makes no sense.
I get up from the lounge chair and head into the house. If I am an obligation, then so be it. But I will be damned if I am not going to make the best of it. I enter the house and march down the hallway to find Michael’s office. I see Ricco standing outside of one of the doors and assume this must be where Michael is.
“I need to see Michael,” I say.
“He’s not to be disturbed,” Ricco replies.
“Ricco, you either let him know I’m here and that I want to see him, or I will make your life a living hell. You have until I count to ten before I begin screaming. Ten, nine…”
“Aw fuck, Zaira!” He quickly pulls out his phone and begins typing. I assume he’s sending a text.
I continue to count down. “Eight, seven, six…”
