Chapter 19 A bomb and a marriage
CHAPTER 19: A bomb and a marriage
Silas
Chauncey didn't seem surprised at my admission. He was calm. So calm that you could almost believe that he had been expecting it.
He folded his arms across his chest.
“Why do I feel like I know what the problem is?” He breathed.
“What?”
“So,” he said audibly, “you going to tell me what kind of problem makes you look like that on your wedding night, or should I start guessing wildly?”
I was suddenly not so sure about revealing to Chauncey the battle that Vera had ignited in my mind…and body.
I dragged a hand down my face and leaned against the staircase banister, the wood cool beneath my palm.
“You know, even with your silence, I don't need to use my genius to know the answer to a question,” he said. “Vera. Your new wife.”
I exhaled deeply, shutting my eyes. “I think I may have miscalculated.”
His brows lifted. “That's not a word the great Silas Rutherford uses unless shit's about to hit the fan. Something wrong?”
“It hasn’t gone wrong,” I said. “Not yet.”
He tilted his head. “That wasn’t reassuring,” he clicked his tongue. “But at least you do admit that it has to do with your new missus.”
A faint smirk played on his lips, the way it always did when something clicked into place.
“Right,” he muttered. “That’s my answer.”
“It’s not—” I started, then stopped myself.
Chauncey arched a dark brow.
“Have you seen yourself? Clearly, you’re affected by something…by her.”
“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “That’s not what this is.”
I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second.
Yes. I was affected by her. Ever since that kiss, my mind has been messed up, befuddled by thoughts of her.
Wearing my clothes…lying in my bed, was definitely not helping.
Vera was undoubtedly a very beautiful woman. Soft, feminine and desirable. I'd been with countless beautiful and attractive women, some more stunning than my new bride. But I couldn't understand why I couldn't shake her from my mind.
“Well, hell,” Chauncey muttered. “That bad, huh?”
I snapped out of my thoughts, my gaze flicking to him.
“It’s not about her,” I said sharply.
He scoffed. “Brother, you look like you just purchased a ticking timebomb. And I know a bomb and a marriage are two different things, but in this case, it's just fitting.”
“You’re reading into things that aren’t there.”
“No,” he said, just as firm. “I’m reading what you’re not saying. You’ve been married for all of six hours and you already look like you’re arguing with yourself in your head.”
“This marriage is a strategy,” I snapped. “A controlled variable.”
“And yet,” he said mildly, “you look anything but in control.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know I hate to say I told you so, but I did.”
My jaw tightened. “Watch it.”
“She’s getting under your skin, isn't she?” he asked. “And before you deny it…don’t. I know you too well.”
“She’s pregnant,” I shot back. “And new to all of this. That creates complications. Nothing more.”
He laughed, short and sharp. “We both know this has nothing to do with her pregnancy. Get off the nonsense, Silas,” he deadpanned. “And…complications don’t make you look shaken.”
I stepped closer. “You’re pushing.”
“Because you’re lying,” he said. “Not to me. To yourself.”
I shot him a glare. “Don’t you dare start analyzing me like I’m one of your fucking paintings.”
He ignored that.
Silence stretched between us.
Then he said it.
“Is it—is it because she reminds you of Simone?”
“Don’t,” I said, my voice dropping to something lethal. “Ever bring her into this.”
His expression sobered. “I’m not trying to reopen old wounds—”
“You already have,” I cut in coldly.
He dragged his hand through his hair, frustrated. “For heaven's sake, She died,” he all but yelled. “She didn’t disappear. It's been five years, Silas. You shouldn't get so triggered by the mention of her name.”
I saw red.
“You don't get to tell me how to feel. And this has nothing to do with Simone,” I snapped. “Nothing.”
He studied me for a long moment. “You said that like you were reciting it.”
Anger flared hot and sharp. “Enough.”
“You think I don’t see it?” he pressed. “Vera is a spitting resemblance of her. She looks at you like she doesn’t know whether to trust you or fear you. Simone used to look at you like that too.”
“That’s enough,” I said again, louder now.
His eyes flicked with regret, but he held my gaze. “I respect that it's still a sore topic for you, but you don’t get to—”
“That's enough, Chaunce,” I snapped. “I said don’t drag her into this.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong,” he pressed. “Tell me Vera doesn’t touch something you thought you buried with Simone.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and volatile.
I loved Simone. She was the first and only woman I had ever loved. She meant so much to me.
But Vera, she was only a means to an end. A variable that I couldn't allow to affect me.
There was neither comparison nor similarity between the two.
I turned away. “Vera is nothing like Simone. There's no comparison between them. Nothing.”
But why does something inside me call me a liar?
Chauncey exhaled slowly. “You say that like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
I faced him again, anger flaring. “Nothing is going to change,” I said flatly. “Nothing is going to happen between me and Vera. This marriage is contained, contractual, and temporary.”
“You’re sharing a bed,” he pointed out.
“That’s not contained.”
“It is,” I shot back. “This is purely business. I know the line that mustn't be crossed.”
He shook his head, sadly. “You’re not made of stone, brother. You never were. You just learned how to pretend.”
“That’s enough,” I warned.
He stepped closer instead.
“I’m saying this because I’m your brother. You’re already married. The deed is already done. But you can make the most of it. Vera seems like a good person. Maybe…just maybe…you should consider giving it a real chance.”
I laughed then, sharp and humorless. “Is this one of your jokes? A real chance? You think this is a romance?”
“I think you’re afraid,” he shrugged, simply.
The words landed harder than I expected.
“This union,” I said coldly, “is a business strategy. Nothing more. Two years. That’s it. After that, it ends cleanly.”
“And if it doesn’t?” he asked. “You’re already affected by her.”
I'm not affected by her.
And I'm definitely not attracted to her.
I moved past him. “It will,” I said. “And I suggest you stop talking nonsense, Chaunce. Stick to painting, and your lame jokes…you're much better at it.”
“Silas—”
I didn’t stop.
I walked up the stairs, taking them two at a time, before he could say another word, before he could peel back anything else I’d spent years sealing shut.
I went back into the bedroom and without a glance at the bed, went straight into the bathroom.
The shower was scalding, the water beating down on me like penance. I needed to burn whatever this was, out of my system.
I stood beneath the spray until my skin burned. My thoughts didn't slow nor burn out, but blurred into something dull and manageable.
I told myself the same things over and over again.
I was in control. This was controlled. This was temporary. This was nothing.
When I finally stepped out, hair damp and sweatpants hung low on my hip, the room was quiet.
Vera lay curled beneath the covers, her dark hair spilled across the pillow, her breathing slow and even.
I didn’t look at her for long. I refused to.
Hit by an overwhelming sense of lethargy, I slid into bed carefully, keeping a huge distance between us. I stared up at the ceiling as I waited for sleep to come.
I was almost about to doze off, when it happened.
Without warning, Vera shifted.
In her sleep, she turned suddenly and flung herself around me, her leg flung over me, her arm wrapping across my chest, her body pressing warm and instinctive against my side.
My body reacted before my mind caught on.