Marriage by Law Read online

  “Are you going to get ready? He’s going to be here anytime now,” she said, standing up. She reached up fixing her hair and I got up envying the way her hair tumbled down her shoulders. Mine was in some tight bun, making me feel like an old woman.

  The not-so-familiar sensation of my thumping heart came back as I held my dress tightly in my hands. I followed her to the front door where the butler was standing smiling at us. The front gates opened and a limousine stopped, the window rolling down as the guards spoke something. It seemed like a decade before the limousine started to move again and I gulped, a million things going through my mind.

  How was one supposed to greet the man you had barely met?

  How was one supposed to meet a man that you would spend the rest of your life with?

  How was I supposed to meet my husband?

  And all thoughts fled my mind as the door opened and one glossy black shoe stepped out, followed by another. Rose squealed like a schoolgirl, grabbing my hand as he stepped out.

  And my breathing stopped.

  That was him?

  Chapter Two

  Six Months Ago

  "Ivy, Ivy!" Rose shouted, shaking my hand. I gasped and turned around, wiping my eyes quickly. The blood that was surging through my body was on fire and I rushed to the front door. Rose ran after me, telling me not to do anything rash, but it was too late. I had already banged loudly on the door.

  I heard laughter from inside and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I should have known that Rose wouldn’t lie to me. I was just as blind as her when she had a crush, only this wasn’t a crush. This was my boyfriend, of four damn years.

  The door opened and instead of seeing James, I saw a tall blonde woman who glared down at me, most likely for ruining their intimate moment. Her buttons on her top were undone and held only by her arms crossed over her chest. I raised an eyebrow. Was this some photo shoot for a porn star? Because if it was, she needed another nose job.

  "Can I help you?" she asked as she looked down at us with her pointy nose.

  'Yes you can. You can start by getting out of the house' was what I should have said. And her skanky appearance should have bothered me but what really bothered me was the fact that she was wearing pointy high heels in the house. No wonder she had to look down at us. I bet the view was great from up there.

  It also raised another point: who the hell wore heels in the house?

  "Is James there?" I asked, trying not to lash out and squish her long neck with my hands at the way she was frowning at me as she looked me up and down.

  "Who's asking?"

  "I should be asking you that," I replied with gritted teeth, ignoring what Rose was ushering from beside me. She could tell me later, and if she really thought I was going to calm down, she was wrong. For four damn years I trusted that man and to find him cheating on me, lying to me, to my face, she was wrong.

  "I am his girlfriend. Who are you?" she said in a bored tone, casually bringing up her fingers to examine her nails. Apparently, she found her cracked nail polish more interesting than our conversation. Well, it wouldn’t be once she found out who I was.

  I felt my chest constrict at her words even though I didn’t want to waste my tears for that lying bastard and I wasn't sure if it was from hurt or anger that I took a step backwards and closed my eyes. No, Ivory, you may not kill her. Murder is a crime.

  I repeated the phrase "murder is a crime," in my head at least ten times to calm myself, probably looking like a -

  "Ivy?"

  And just like that, all the 'calm' I was trying to build flew out of the window.

  I looked up with narrowed eyes to stare into the pair of blue eyes I had grown to love, or like at least.

  He, on the other hand, looked confused as he stared at me and reached out, which I dodged.

  Should I punch him and break his nose, or break his jaw? The choice was hard. But instead I decided to try another technique: just walk away.

  "Enjoy work,” I replied in the most sarcastic tone I could muster and turned around walking as fast as I can down the small driveway.

  Rose was right behind me as I kicked the stupid picket gate close and sauntered out. I had every right to kick that gate; I was the one who helped him put it up. The house behind that stupid gate was where I was meant to live with someone I thought loved me. Boy, was I wrong.

  I was sure the whole neighborhood could hear James calling after me as he tried to chase me down. Too bad I ran faster than him.

  I wasn’t sure if it was hurt or anger as my emotions caught up with me. This felt like a bad dream I hoped to wake up from.

  Spotting a tram in the distance, I raced across the road not even thinking about my safety and made it before the doors hit behind me. Finding an empty seat, I sat down hiding my face in my hands before my vision went blurry with tears.

  The only visible thing behind my eyelids was his face, the one I never wanted to see in my life ever again.

  Present Time

  To be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect.

  Was it going to be some old man with a pot stomach? Maybe he had pie stains all over his tie, or tomato sauce.

  People can change a lot in six months. I know that I had changed. I was no longer that confident girl who didn’t care what people thought of her. Instead, I had become a coward trying to please everyone and avoid any type of disapproval.

  Rose was jumping up and down clutching my arm beside me and I smiled softly at her excitement. She was more excited than me. I did remember how she kept fawning over my husband, how he was always on the newspaper or magazine articles, but I always just turned a blind eye. I didn’t want to remember that my life took a sudden change.

  It went from being in love to being blackmailed into marrying him. My mother always won in the end and I didn’t want to think about that. She had won once again when she made me slip that wedding ring on my finger.

  The only reminder of him was the black and white picture on the wall after you climb down the stairs. It was of him as a kid, but looking at him now, I can’t find any similarities. There was no smiling ten-year-old with a missing tooth holding up a fish.

  Instead, he seemed to be looming over six feet, towering over the driver with crossed arms as he said something. He wasn’t smiling and I was sure if he did, I wouldn’t see a missing tooth.

  He had the typical business man look: a strong jaw set into a clench like he just lost a business deal, and narrowed eyes, a sight I saw often on my father.

  His suit seemed to be made out of expensive material and tailored to match every muscle of his body, making him seem intimidating and even from the distance where we were standing, I knew he was a very authoritative man.

  But what really irked me was the fact that his hair looked darker than mine. Was that even possible? I was pretty sure my hair was black, maybe brown in the sunlight, but his just looked darker than black, which really wasn't a colour. I took pride at my hair colour and now here he was thinking he could just waltz in here and have better hair than me. Not allowed.

  As he turned around, I saw his full face and my, did he look stunning! Not a word I could use to describe him.

  I wouldn’t call him a model, even if he had a strong jaw and slightly sharp cheekbones. He didn't have the calm aura of a model. At the same time, he looked too handsome to be simply just a businessman.

  But, of course, he wasn't simply a businessman. He was a CEO and he even dressed like one off duty.

  A perfect fitting white button up shirt and black suit pants. It was an outfit I saw too often at home from my father. I was sure he even slept in his work clothes.

  I was waiting for someone older, uglier, not a perfect 11 on an attractive scale where 10 was the highest you can go. The most I was expecting was a 4, someone on their deathbed to come out saying "Ta-da! You married me, I'm going to die soon, and you can take my money.”

  I was sure that's why my mother agreed to this deal, and who knew she did one
thing right by picking out such a man. Oh right, she didn’t pick him out. My great-great somewhere-in-the-family-line grandfather did. Kudos, grandfather, kudos.

  The butler and maid hurried over from beside me greeting him in a hurry while I was rooted to my spot like a Greek statue. He turned around the other way to talk to our butler and I saw the flash of bright green eyes that were prominent and stunning in his face.

  I forced my eyes away from him. I could probably stare at him all day, and moved to the still open car door and I stared at it. Was someone else going to step out? Maybe the real Darius, an older man that was not even a quarter as handsome as him and for reality to laugh at me, but nothing.

  How did I not realise what he looked like at the altar? Maybe it was the part where I was trying to figure out a way to run away took up the part where I was meant to look at him. And the other time I did look up was when I glared at my mother for putting me in that situation. Marry him or never see my father again. She knew how much I loved my father, what I would do for him, and she played those emotions against me.

  Maybe she was right after all. Emotions made you weak. Would I still be here if I had no emotions, married to this man, or would I have told her two colourful swear words and walked away not caring what happened to the man who created me?

  I looked at the open door again. Maybe reality would come now. I just needed a supermodel to step out in some flattering dress and a negative size body and I could be cast aside, but nothing.

  He grabbed a file from the driver and started walking. My pulse was racing. Was he going to greet me? What do I say?

  But I was saved when he walked straight past me, and Rose without even a glance spared for us. I blinked, stunned. Well, that was the welcome I was expecting.

  I laughed out loud at my stupidity, earning a concerned look from Rose. What was I expecting, him to hug me and be so joyful that he saw me? I should have known he wouldn’t recognise me like I didn’t recognise him. We barely knew each other - no, correction, we didn’t know each other.

  "Well, that was a warm welcome," Rose whispered from beside me and I nodded my agreement with her. So warm I didn’t even need a jumper in this cold.

  "He's probably jet lagged," she added in his defense. I raised an eyebrow at her and shook my head as I walked back inside. Of course he was jet lagged. I made my way back to the parlor room sighing. I might as well spend the rest of the day locked up in here dreaming every other day about what could have been.

  I hadn’t even fully sat down and the door opened and my heart skipped. Was that him? I frowned when I saw it was Margaret, our maid, walking in smiling like she just saw the happiest thing in her life. I tried smiling back at her but my muscles just didn’t cooperate. She was a nice lady and she showed more affection toward me than my mother ever had.

  "Hello, dearie. Dinner will be served soon. Don't worry. You and the lad will have plenty to talk about then. He's just tired," she said. Rose nodded her head vigorously in support of Margaret.

  "Did you want help, Ma?" I asked. Margaret had wanted me to call her Ma the moment I had stepped in. She was my replacement mother and she came with hugs and kisses. She made my stay here for the past six months bearable.

  "Perhaps not,” she frowned, nervously folding her hands. “The lad might not like you doing the chores and helping out anymore," she said with a sad face. I knew where she was coming from. It would be disgraceful if anyone found out I helped out with the chores, which was really standing there and talking while they did it. And in fact I was hopeless at being a housewife.

  Margaret smiled before rushing out the room and Rose stood up saying that she should probably leave. All I did was nod as I waited to be called for dinner.

  If I thought I was nervous when he arrived, I was even more frazzled as I sat at the table Margaret had set up for us. It was small, quiet, and intimate, which I wasn’t used to. I was too used to eating in either the kitchen or in front of the television by myself, and the large dining hall when we had guests.

  I wasn’t even aware there was a room like this. Maybe that was because I spent too much time sulking, and now thinking over it was pathetic. Was I still groveling over him six months later, and how did I not notice that till now?

  Rose was right. I threw a blind eye to the world and was wallowing in self-pity. Playing with the napkin on my lap, I decided I was not going to wallow in self-pity anymore. It was time I got over myself and made something with my life.

  I jumped in my seat as the clock rung loudly at six and shook my head at being so jumpy. And just on time he walked in and my eyes zoned in on the file in his hands.

  I frowned. Who brought files to dinner?

  He placed them on the coffee table nearby and walked up. Should I stand up? Was I supposed to greet him? But before I can decide, he took a seat in front of me and didn’t even glance at me. Well…that was one way to greet your wife.

  I looked at the mirror on the far wall. Yes, I was still very much visible.

  The cook and Margaret came rushing in carrying the dishes and he looked up at them giving them a warm smile and talking with them. Well, the man wasn't all robot; he could talk at least. How come I was an exception to this? Maybe he was still angry at the deal of being married to me, I know I still was.

  The moment they left, we were plunged into silence. Only the clatter of the cutlery made a sound as we ate our chicken and corn meal. I sneaked a glance at him and his eyes were on his plate, nowhere else.

  Should I say something?

  No, why should I? He was the man he should start! Okay, that was very sexist, Ivory, bad girl. I should start the conversation, because if I was going to use the sexist card then wasn’t it that females are good at conversation?

  I opened my mouth and then closed it. What do I say? Should I say, ‘Hello, darling, did you have a nice trip?’ or maybe, ‘Darling, do you remember me?’ I winced at both those choices, they didn’t sound right. Maybe silence was the best right now, till I can say something that didn’t sound so bad.

  It grew quieter, if that was even possible, and I gave up on saying something and looked at the clock anxiously to see when this torment would finally be over. There was something about him that made me scared. Maybe it was the way he looked sitting down, his confidence taking over the room. I may have been a girl who didn’t care about the person who was talking, stood up for herself, talked back, wasn’t scared to start a conversation, but that girl was hiding inside me.

  I knew it had been over two hours and not a word was spoken between us. And I was surprised to want to know what his voice sounded like. And somewhere during that time, I did want to speak up but he just drank his water, grabbed the file and submerged himself in it, his eyebrows knotting every time he flicked a page.

  Margaret finally walked in and I let out a breath that I didn’t realise I was holding in. She looked between us, probably feeling the tension, and smiled.

  “Was everything to your liking?”

  "Of course, Marge. It was wonderful." His deep voice rumbled as he stood up. So that’s what he sounded like. I watched glued to my chair as he gave her a smile and a nod and picked up his files and walked out.

  "Well, that went well," I said, standing up and leaving my apple pie untouched.

  "Go after him," said Margaret, giving me a push.

  "Me?" I asked, staring at her open eyed. Did she not observe the way he just got up and left the room? I think he wanted to be alone and I was going to respect his wishes.

  Margaret gave me another slight push. "The boy needs a push; he's a quiet one," she said.

  I frowned, thinking about my choices. What can I possibly lose? I nodded at her and rushed out of the room trying to catch up to him before he disappeared in this massive house. Taking the stairs by two, I saw a glimpse of him before he disappeared in a room.

  I mustered up the courage before calling out to him.

  "Darius!"

  He was gone. It was like he hadn�
��t heard me. I faltered, biting my lip. Should I turn back? Just as I was about to turn around and go, he stepped back out. He turned to face me, his eyebrows knotted and having the same look he had before. I didn’t realise how intimidating that look was, especially when you were the one receiving it instead of some file.

  I looked away from his bright eyes, the colour seeming even stronger than when I saw them before.

  I cleared my throat. You can do this. “H-hi.”