Chapter 7: Party

A splash of cold water blew my face and woke me up. I gasped and sat back. The water was soaking my body and the couch. “What the hell…” I bit into my lower lip, looking around and examining the foreign room. This is not my house? My eyes caught a familiar man who stood just next to the couch with a jug in his hand. Oh hell, I didn’t take a second to realize that he had thrown that jug of water right on my face.

Henry was quietly observing me. His eyes trailed down my neck to my shoulder. I followed his eyes and found the red spots all over my neck and shoulder. He had given me pleasure last night with the use of a damn candle, hadn’t he? He had no heart at all, no doubt he could do anything to get his revenge. I cursed the moment he entered my life. From that moment, I swore to myself that I should always be aware of his every action. I did not know what he would do to make my life awful.

“Why did you throw water on my face, asshole?” I gritted out.

He raised his dark eyebrows, looking amused. “What did you expect? For me to wake you up with rose petals?” He smirked and leaned forward, meeting my eyes. “You should get used to it because I’ll make every day even worse, Mrs. Alice Robinson.”

I should not be blushing, but a damn blush crept into my face when I heard my new name. I swallowed and gathered myself before letting out, “suit on you in a very rude and a different way. Only you can do a nasty thing!”

He gave me a frosty glare before glancing at his watch. “I must be crazy to waste my valuable time on you. Get ready for the party.”

Party?

“What party?” I blurted, but he didn’t bother to answer me and disappeared into another room.

Frowning, I stood up and eyed the gown that was on the bed. I went near it to inspect it; it was a gorgeous off-shoulder gown. But how could I wear that dress? My neck and shoulder were marked with red spots?

When Henry walked out, I turned to him and said, “I’m not gonna wear this!”

He snapped his eyes at me as if I had slapped him right on his face.

When he didn’t speak, I explained, “This is off-shoulder! How can I wear that dress? It will reveal the red marks you gave me last night.”

“But sadly, you have to put this dress on, whether you want it or not,” he sneered, buttoning his shirt’s sleeves.

“What about these red marks?” I pointed at my neck and shoulder.

He glanced at me and an arrogant smile pulled his lips. “It seems like my plan has worked out.” He laughed bitterly. “I did all this on purpose. Yesterday Dad sensed that something was wrong between us so I planned to give you fake love bites.”

Love bites? I glanced at myself in the mirror and found the red marks look like hickies.

“Now, he’ll believe how passionately we made love last night,” he said, and let his eyes run down my body. My breath hitched when lust flickered in his dark eyes. “We didn’t have sex, but we had sex.” He smirked.

I swallowed. So he did all this because he wanted to make his father believe we had sex last night? Disgusting!

Suddenly, rage pulsed through my veins. “You're greedy, mean, and cruel. You do what you want to do. You feel happy making others miserable. But have you ever thought about others’ feelings and pain, Mr. Robinson?” I growled. “Have you ever thought…”

Before I had time to complete myself, he rushed towards me and grabbed me by my wrist before slamming me against the wall and making me shiver in pain.

“I can do what I like to do. I enjoy making others feel unworthy. Especially gold diggers like you! I don’t have to remind you again and again and again who you the fucking are!” He growled into my face and brought tears to my eyes.

My chin trembled as I tried to mask my brave face and look into his eyes. “Let me go,” I mumbled, snatching my hand from his harsh grip.

He didn’t let me free from his grip and kept glaring at me angrily. Tears finally rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t know why I couldn’t face him. Why couldn’t I hold my tears back in front of him? I hated that I was too weak to confront him. I hated that he hated me for the crime I never committed. I hated myself for allowing him to hurt him. I hated everything!

“You can’t do the fucking anything except cry!” He gritted out.

“And you can’t do anything except hurting others!” I snapped, yanking my hand from his.

He leaned in, touching our nose. “You’re fucking getting on my nerve.” He hissed out, his breath blowing across my face.

“You’re hurting me…” I stuttered, looking at my arm that was marked with his fingerprint.

He glanced at his grip and instantly loosened his hand and let me go. He stepped back, breathing hard and running his fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists as calming himself. Sometimes he felt like a volcano! Rage! Rage! And so much rage!

“Do not make my driver wait!” He hissed into my face before stalking the room and slamming the door behind me.

I released a long breath, closing my eyes and feeling my throbbing heartbeats. He scared the crap out of me with his uncountable anger.

A few minutes later, I got ready and stepped out of the hotel. A man in a black suit stood next to a black expensive car. He waved his hand once he noticed me coming. I walked towards him, feeling nervous.

“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Robinson,” he said with a polite smile. “My name is Joseph Smith, your driver.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith.” I gave him the best smile I could.

“Please…Mrs. Robinson…” He opened the door for me, and I felt my cheeks turning scarlet. No one had ever made me feel important. I was feeling like a queen.

“Thank you.” I smiled, blushed, and got inside. After a moment, the car started and we drove away. “Where are we going?” I asked.

Joseph glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “The Plaza Hotel, Mrs. Robinson.”

“Would you mind if I ask you to call me Alice? I don’t like Mrs. Robinson. You don’t have to be formal with me. It makes me nervous.”

He chuckled. “Sure, Mrs.…” I shook his head. “Alice.”

After half an hour of driving, we arrived at the hotel. He pulled the car through the crowd where lots of paparazzi were gathering around and snapping pictures. Once our car halted, all cameras and lights flashed on us.

What the hell!

Swallowing hard, I gripped my gown and stepped out of the car.

“Ma’am…!” someone shouted from the crowd and snapped my pictures.

“Mrs. Robinson…!” another one yelled while snapping more pictures.

God! I was feeling like I would throw up.

“Ma’am…please…!”

Click! Click!

“Watch out,” Joseph said and shielded me from the crowd.

I had never been in such a situation before. I was feeling like Jennifer Lopez as they were clicking my picture from every angle.

I swallowed down as my throat turned dry. I followed Joseph and flinched when a bright light flashed across my eyes.

“Ouch!” I stumbled and landed on the ground when someone’s body hit me violently. Damn! I pushed myself up before I gave paparazzi to click my humiliating pictures. I winced when my right leg was bent at the ankle and I couldn’t stand on my feet. I looked around at the flashing lights focusing on me. I lowered my gaze as embarrassment racked me.

“Alice, are you alright?” Joseph quickly kneeled next to me and placed his hand around my waist and supported my body.

“What’s going on here?” I heard the hard and stiff voice of Mr. Robinson, Henry’s father. I looked at him when reached out to me. “Are you alright, dear?” He asked with concern in his eyes.

I nodded and gave him a forceful smile. “I’m okay…” I stood up and fixed my hair and adjusted my gown.

“Joseph, take her to the doctor. Her leg got bruised,” Mrs. Robinson said and glanced at my bruised leg.

“Yes, sir.” Joseph nodded and took me away from the crowd.

Joseph insisted I should see a doctor because of my leg, but I refused him and told him I was okay.

“Are you sure?” Joseph asked one last time.

“Yep.” I forced a smile. “Thank you for helping me out. It means a lot to me.”

He nodded politely and led me to the ballroom where the reception party was being held. I gasped once I stepped into it, mesmerized by the décor: vaulted ceilings, marble floors, massive, tiered crystal chandeliers glittering in the soft light, and circular dining tables. Everything was expensive, elegant, and beautiful.

Suddenly, a familiar figure yanked my attention. Henry. He sat next to a redhead and beautiful woman. I recognized her. Lisa. She was in a skin-tight black dress that looked more like a bikini. Model! I rolled my eyes when she leaned forward and mumbled something in his ear, which made him break into a laugh. Why didn’t he marry her instead?

“Alice, come here,” Henry’s father called me out and made me tear my eyes away from my husband, who was enjoying another woman. “Are you okay? If you’re not feeling well, then I’ll call Joseph. He’ll drop you back to the hotel room,” Mr. Robinson said politely.

I tucked my hair behind his ear, giving him a sincere smile. “No, thank you, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, and I gave him a nod. “Alright, come here I want to introduce you to some of my close friends,” he said and dragged me to a group of familiar faces. Some of them were celebrities, and some were rich business executives.

I jumped back when a muscular arm wrapped around my waist possessively. I plastered a smile when Henry leaned in and whispered in my ear, “how was my surprise?”

“What surprise?” I asked, trying to calm my nerves.

“Recently, you’ve given your best shots to the paparazzi,” he smirked. “A selfish, manipulative gold digger!” He hissed in my ear. “Tomorrow going to see your face in newspapers with these names?”

I said nothing and swallowed his words like venom.

So much hate!

“Isn’t it enough what you did last night and then again you humiliated me in front of the entire world?” I choked, trying to keep my expression neutral.

Before he could speak anything else. Someone cleared the throat behind us. “I think you two forget you are in a public place. Why don’t you continue your romance in your hotel room?” Henry’s father teased us and broke into a laugh, making me blush hard.

“Dad…” Henry gritted out in annoyance.

“Kidding…” He said and patted Henry’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you, boy. She is perfect for you.”

I caught Henry’s body tensed next to me.

A server approached us with drinks. “No soda?” Henry’s father asked the server. “My son is allergic to soda.”

“Without soda,” the server said and dismissed himself.

Henry was allergic to soda? An idea popped into my head when I heard soda. I knew I was going in the wrong direction, but my husband grated on my nerves and I too wanted a little revenge. What would happen if I gave him soda? A smile pulled my lips. It would give me little peace. I was going to give him the taste of his own medicine.

“Excuse me…” I excused myself and walked over to the counter. I asked the bartender to make a drink that contained soda. “Thank you,” I said and walked back to my husband. “Honey.” I smiled and laid my hand on Henry’s shoulder. He turned to me with his sign sneer. “Let me start our reception party with this drink. Here…” I gave him his glass and kept mine.

He hesitated a moment before wrapping his long fingers around the glass. He glanced at me curiously. “What is it?” He whispered, almost hissing.

“Drink,” I smiled. “Didn’t you want us to pretend to be a lovey-dovey couple in front of your father?”

“What-the-fuck-ever!” He mouthed and brought the glass to his lips.

Hell yes!

He downed the content. The first few minutes, he seemed normal, but suddenly, his face reddened and he breathed faster. He closed his eyes, swallowing, as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Was that soda?” He asked, clenching his jaw harder and balling his hands into fists.

He finds that!

I smiled, and his eyes narrowed in the slit. “You…” He gritted out and advanced on me. But before he could reach for me his eyes sockets rolled behind his eyelids and the next second his body collapsed on the floor, flat.

And panic hit me hard in my chest.

“Henry…!” His father called out, rushing to us. He kneeled next to his son. “Jesus, Henry. Did he consume soda?” He glanced around and heavy guilt settled my chest. “Someone please call a doctor,” he shouted desperately.

I reached out to my husband, watching him, horrified. I had no idea what I should do, so without thinking twice, I held his hand and started to rub it.

“Alice, rub his chest,” his father said. Without another thought, I unbuttoned his shirt and rubbed his chest.

Since when did I have a cruel heart? I didn’t know when the tear ran down my cheeks. I was feeling extremely guilty. I rubbed his chest faster to yank him back to life. I wanted him back. I wanted him perfectly fine. I wanted him the same. My heart was hammering in my chest and my body was shuddering in anxiety.