Chapter 81 Eighty One
OWEN WINTERS
Two weeks.
I'd be married in two weeks?
That fucker set the wedding in two weeks!
Rage came rushing through me, threatening to spill, but I held myself. My anger was visible and I could tell Amy sensed it too.
“You're getting married in two weeks,” father repeated, irritating me all the more. He knew that I knew he wanted to prove me wrong, to put me in my place and to hell, to show me who was really in charge.
I was making plans on how I wouldn't get married to Lyon's daughter, Lucille, but that man — my father moved the date upwards.
“I heard you the first time,” I gritted my teeth, every word dripped with seething rage. An anger I could no longer contain.
“So for the rest of the week, you'll be tasked with assisting her, getting to know her better… and even fall in love.” The last part made me nauseous.
Lucille Gates wasn't a bad fit, but she wasn't my type. She was too clumsy, awkward and most times unbearable. Father knew I never liked her, and that bastard, Mr Lyon used our one night stand as an advantage. He was smart, I'd give him that.
Father knew I was into only one woman. Why did he always make things difficult for me? I hissed. “And if I don't do it?” I asked, trying to weigh the chances.
“Then consider yourself unfit for an heir. I know about the Russians and our ally, I let you handle it, but you disappoint me,” he said, his voice calm and less stressed.
I scoffed, releasing some steam as my other arm played with the water in the pool. “I knew what to do, your board members are dumb, that's the problem…” I glanced at Amy, her head was bent while she played with the water melancholically, listening to our conversation.
I shrugged.
“And who would you replace me with, father? Do you also have another child elsewhere?” I accused, waiting to hear an answer, but the old man just cackled.
“Does it matter? We both know you won't go down without a fight, and trust me when I say that I'm ready. Your meeting with her starts tomorrow.”
Beep.
That bastard hung up.
I growled raising my hand to smash the phone when a little whimper caught my attention.
Was she crying?
“Amy…”
“You do what your father wants. If you don't get married to her, you lose your rights… you've gone too far to back down because of me,” she muttered swimming towards me.
Amy held my waist and smiled, her big brown like eyes glassy.
“I'll be fine,” she whispered into my ears, kissing my neck.
Her voice sounded so persuasive, determined but yet helpless. That wasn't the Amy I knew. She was like her father, defiant, strong and capable. I scoffed.
“Don't you love me, Amelia?” I asked, my eyes darkening. She sighed, staring into my eyes.
“I do. Really,” she answered, her hands still wrapped around my waist.
Strands of hair stuck to her face as the moonlight shone brightly down at us.
“Do you?” I questioned sarcastically, and she nodded.
I pulled her face closer to mine, and smashed my lips on hers, sliding my tongue into her mouth. She shut her eyes as our kiss deepened. As it got passionate. My heartbeat increased, and my chest was heaving. She tightened her grip on my waist pulling me closer to her, wanting our bodies to merge.
But I needed to stop.
I had to.
I pulled her away and stared at her face, she was trying to catch her breath. “If you love me, then don't sound like a hopeless coward. I give you my word. I won't get married to her,” I muttered under my breath, trailing my finger from her hair down to the edge of her lips.
“Let's call it a night, yes?” She nodded and I kissed her hair before leaving the water.
Spending an entire two weeks with someone I barely knew was very much revolting.
I sat on a seat waiting for her ‘enchanting entrance’ as father called it.
This was just day one and I was itching to go home to Amy. The whole reason I agreed to this was to find something on her… anything that would make me cancel the wedding.
I heard footsteps and I knew exactly who it was. Lucille Gates.
Glancing up, I watched as she stepped into the building approaching me with that slow movement as though she were stuck in a microwave.
She dyed her hair blonde and her pink dress hugged her body exposing cleavages and thighs.
“You looked up as soon as I stepped in, Mr Winters,” she observed standing in front of me. I stood and kissed her fingers, drawing a seat so she could sit.
“I can tell people based on their footsteps. It's a thing I learned out of boredom… and call me Owen,” I said, calling the waiter.
Lucille smiled brightly, although I knew like me, she didn't want to be here.
“What would you like?” I asked and she hesitated for a bit so I added.
“Your father mustn't know. It's on me.” She smiled and ordered something sweet.
Lucille relaxed, probably thinking we were cool. Her father, Lyon Gates dictated her life, told her what to eat, when to sleep and that night we made out, her father saw it as an opportunity.
I asked for spirit as I scrolled through my phone. “Well, since we're here, what should we do?” She asked slightly excited. I smiled at her ignorance.
“Nothing. We both know we don't want this. You don't want a hot guy with serious issues of torturing victims before they die. Am I right?”
Lucille looked at me like I was having a psychological problem and she was right. “I don't know what you're talking about, Mr… Owen,” she said, taking a bite of her food.
I relaxed on my seat, legs and arms crossed. “Do you want this wedding?” I asked and she shut her eyes for a brief moment.
“No,” she answered and that brought my hopes up a little. “Then we'll find a way to stop it. “
“How?” She inquired and I smiled.
“We just have to act like we're good for the two weeks and I'll tell you the plan when the time comes. For now…”
I took a sip of my spirit, inched closer, and locked eyes with her.
“Tell me about that guy you love so much that made you reject a hot guy like me.”