Page 59 of Sinful Bride

“Where are we going?” Daphne asks me. It’s the first full sentence she’s directed at me since the ceremony.

“We are going to our bridal suite for a little chat.”

I could have said that a bit nicer. Maybe I should have unclenched my teeth before threatening her with what’s coming.

But how can I be “nice” when I want to shake the truth out of her like a ragdoll?

Why aren’t you happy, goddammit?

When the elevator doors open, I scoop her up, ignoring her shocked yelps of protest, and carry her into the suite. Then I toss her on the bed and demand to know what the fuck is going on.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I snarl as I sink into a nearby armchair. “You’re going to talk to me. And I’m going to listen. And then I’m going to fix whatever the fuck is wrong.”

She just blinks at me instead.

Fuck.

I rub a hand over my face and sigh. I am not going to lose my temper on the first day as a married man. “For God’s sake, say something. Anything. You haven’t said a goddamned word since ‘I do.’ You’ve barely looked at me this whole night.”

Finally—fucking finally—she opens her mouth. “I don’t… I don’t know what you want from me, Pasha.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

She shrugs. Her eyes go anywhere but to me. Her feet. Her lap. The ceiling. The floor. “I’ve been doing what I’m supposed to, right? I said the vows. Took the ring. Smiled. Ate cake. So… I don’t know what you want.”

I study her face. “I just want you to be honest with me, Daphne. Really, truly honest with me. None of this ‘whatever makes you happy’ bullshit.” I swallow hard, willing my frustration to take a back seat to my compassion. “What’s wrong?”

She’s silent. But I can be silent, too. Hell, I’ll make us both sit here in silence all damn night if it gets her to fucking talk to me.

Daphne twists the engagement ring on her finger around and around. Finally, after a few more turns, she stills her hands and looks at me.

I was prepared for her anger.

I wasn’t prepared for her despair.

“I’m s-sorry.”

It’s all she chokes out before collapsing into tears. I’m glued to my seat for a few seconds, surprised at this sudden turn, but then I remember I’m her husband now and I scoop her up into my lap.

We’re now both drowning in a sea of tulle and satin, but I don’t care. I just want her to be happy. Truly, deeply happy.

“Daphne…” I tuck her chin under mine. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to make you do all this…” She sucks in a long, shaking breath. “You never wanted any of this. A wife, a baby… none of it. And I never set out to trap you into it, you know? Things just happened, and before I knew it, we’re here.” She sniffles. “I wanted this day—my wedding day—to be with someone who actually wanted to marry me. And I feel so trapped. Because… because I love you. I love you and I’ve always wanted you, but…”

My heart sinks into my stomach. “But…?”

Daphne looks me in the eyes. She’s so tragically beautiful that it physically aches. “But you don’t want me. You’re just really good at pretending. It’s all a show, right? We have to make people believe you really want this. Even when you don’t.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

Because not a fucking word of it is true.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I manage to blurt out.

Daphne slides off my lap and crosses the room. I don’t know if she needs something over there or if she just wants to put some distance between us. Whatever the reason, I’m not okay with it.

“What if Taty didn’t exist?”

---