Endless Love by Bianca Borell
Chapter Twenty-Eight
BRIA
In a haze, we pack our luggage and grab two sandwiches from the bakery on the corner. All the while, Damien sticks to me as if he needs to reassure himself that I’m still here, still loving him. His quietness persists, and I sigh. Not everything is back on track. Something is off.
We reach the jet, embark, greet everyone, and the plane takes off. I can’t keep thinking about what’s wrong with him anymore as our mothers separate us the moment we enter to discuss the wedding. I keep seeking his gaze, but his face is cocked toward the window, avoiding my gaze. It disconcerts me.
“Honey, there are a few details we would like to discuss. It’s your wedding, and we want it to be perfect for the two of you.”
“But you’re far better than I am with such things.” I sigh. I have other things on my mind right now.
“Bria, we’ll make it easy on you. I promise.”
I’m sure my mother and I have two different definitions of “easy,” but I still nod and rest my face in my palm.
“I imagine a white pavilion with elegant drapery and crystal-cut chandeliers overhead. White decorations and flowers, bunches of bright white roses, also hydrangeas and orchids. Everything should be white and, on every table, a big, white candle, vintage lace tops and chair covers.”
“That will look fantastic. Elegant, but still glamorous. I love your idea.”
I visualize it to myself, us taking our first dance as Mr. and Mrs. du Sky. Sweet, scented white roses and dim candlelight surrounding us. I hope they’re done when another round of questions follows, and I growl on the inside.
“The cake also white with two different fillings, one-half chocolate, the other vanilla cream and raspberry.”
“I thought you would like to test it.” I refrain from telling them I know how it will taste. We have ordered our cakes from the same bakery since I was a child.
“I trust you two.”
“And the venue?” Now, they just want to irritate me.
“Likewise.”
“Music.”
“I guess you’ll hire the best you can get.” I offer a fake, bright smile, and their faces turn to slight irritation.
“Bria. Have you any idea how many little things one has to cover for a wedding?”
“I’m sorry I am being difficult, but you have Sarah, she knows what I wish for.” I am more excited for the whole after-wedding life, but I guess I can’t escape the ceremony.
I want the man, the life with the man. The ceremony is a means to an end. They keep trying to win my interest over, but it doesn’t work. I plead with my eyes for Sarah to help me out, and she takes over the discussion. I’m too deep in thought, so I feign sleep. When we land, I breathe out.
We depart and agree on a Sunday lunch. As Damien drives us home, I let the familiarity of the city warm me. There’s no place like home. Every place on earth has its magic, but one always finds their way back to their roots.
“We talked about the wedding.” I try to gain his attention, and he crooks his head to me.
“How are things progressing?”
“Nothing to worry about.”
He nods, and the sentiment that something is off with him lingers. We drive to our penthouse in silence. I slump my bag on the floor, stomp in front of him, and question him.
“What’s wrong?” He massages his temples, inhales a lungful of air, sees through me, and deadpans.
“Nothing.”
I huff and raise my hands in the air.
“Damien, you’re distant.”
“I’m distant?” He shoots right back, pointing at himself. I turn on my heel and stomp away. “Back to square one again?” he counters to my back. I wave him off.
I pause and say over my shoulder, “Actually, we’re on square zero at this moment.”
“Fine. But you realize we’re getting married in a few weeks?”
“This should be interesting,” I say and slam the door behind me.
If he wants to irritate me, I’ll give him a show. A few minutes later, he peeks inside. If I weren’t mad at him, I’d definitely laugh right now.
“I’ll run a bath.”
“I’ll come in a moment.”
“Who said you can join me?”
“You’re not serious? Are you punishing me with no sex now?”
I let him stand there with an open mouth, and I remember we planned a day without wearing clothes. Today is just as good as any other.
After my bath, I parade naked through the kitchen. Damien sits on the couch, working on his laptop. I pour myself a glass of orange juice, and he turns his head in my direction. He blinks and blinks some more, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Is this a peace offering?” I roll my eyes in my head.
“No, I just remembered we planned a day with no clothes.”
“And you start it along with the sex-free diet. Cruel.”
“Are you working?”
He stretches and pins me with a heated stare, “If you stay here, I’d say no, I’m not working. I’m dying of sexual frustration.”
“Get back to work, don’t let me disturb you.”
I’m right in front of him, sliding on the plush armchair, crossing my legs, and letting my breasts bounce with every movement, scrolling through my phone, goading him. I counted on what would happen. He bolts to me, cages me between his arms, wrapped in a body-fitted gray shirt hugging his muscled forearms, his fingers gripping the armrest.
His warm breath caresses my skin. He stares at me like I’m his dessert and makes it clear he’d eat me until the last bite.
“Not so brave anymore?” Damien chuckles, and I lift my gaze to meet his.
“You may look, but you can’t touch.”
“Is that so?”
“I have a solution. Curious?”
“Yes,” he says in that deep, rough voice that has a direct link to my desire, and I clench my legs. He dips his head until our noses touch, “I’ll respect your wish if you’re not wet.”
“And what happens if I am?” I taunt while his hot breath is on my lips, playing havoc with my senses.
“I will fuck all the bullshit out of your system.”
“How would you find out if I’m wet if you can’t touch me?”
He smiles, pretty self-assured, while I am still contemplating how this goes.
“Because I know you, and I bet the moment you open these exquisite legs of yours, there will be glistening wetness between them.”
“I can open them, but will you tell me what’s wrong with you?” Please say yes.
“No,” he answers, deflating me.
“Fine, then I won’t open them.”
I press my hands against his chest and push him off, storming back to our bedroom. If he doesn’t want it the easy way, there’s only one way left, him going mad and either chasing me or waiting for me fuming. Something will work, it has to.
I put on a pair of worn jeans, a casual sweatshirt, and chose a pair of sneakers and pack a sports bag where I put my swimsuit, a towel, a brush, mascara, shower gel, and my shampoo. I pause at the door, watching him seated on the couch with the laptop in front of him. I shut the door behind me and rush to the elevator.
With my thumb on the engine start button, I realize my mistake. He would just have to track his car to find me. I hop out, deciding I won’t make it easy for him. He wants me to stop protecting him. Well, he should stop being secretive. Fair game.
I step out of the building, and my phone rings, but I switch it to silent. Let’s see if he likes it. I take my time, swimming, indulging myself with a spa treatment for another two hours. I also have a manicure and pedicure. By the time I leave the spa, it’s dinner time. I stop when I inhale the mouth-watering smell of homemade dough out of the oven.
I check my phone. Ten missed calls and five texts, all from Damien. I already know what every one of them says. I pay and go back home.
