Page 122 of Dex

“I’ve got just the thing for it,” he says, then disappears.I frown.He’s been acting strangely ever since I got mugged.Overly tender and concerned, to the point that it leaves me feeling flustered sometimes.

“Here.”He reappears, holding a bright blue Tiffany box.

“What’s that?”I peer at it, then at him.

“Open it.”I step closer, heart in my throat, because while fussing over me is one thing, buying me jewellery, Tiffany & Co jewellery, says something else.I tentatively open the box and gasp in complete shock.Inside are a pair of the most beautiful emerald-cut drop earrings and a fine platinum chain with a single emerald pendant.It’s simple and elegant, just how I like it.

I gape up at him.“Dexter ...”

“Do you like them?”

I nod, overcome with emotion.“How did you know that I was going to wear this?”But then I remember.He asked me last week what I was going to wear to the gala, when he told me we had to make an impression and make people believe we were madly in love.“You ...you didn’t have to,” I manage to choke out.”

“I wanted to.”

“Thank you.”I’m beyond touched by his thoughtfulness.

“It’s nothing.”

I hate how quickly and casually he says it.“It’s not nothing.This … is … everything.”Our gazes lock and we stay like that for a beat.Words rise up, on the tip of my tongue.Things that well up from deep within me.

“Let’s get ready and make a splash,” he says, pushing away from the door and leaving.

I take my time getting dressed.

With my makeup done, and my hair up, I slip on the necklace and earrings.When I step out of my bedroom, Dexter is already waiting.Standing outside my door like some kind of sentinel.

Except he’s not.

He’s my husband.

And he looks breathtakingly handsome in a tuxedo.

His gaze drags over me, dropping to my neck, my ears, then all the way down, and back up again.“You look … devastatingly beautiful.Almost regal,” he murmurs.

“Thank you.You look devastatingly, unforgettably, handsome.Like you’re about to break a million hearts.”

“The only heart I ever think about, is yours.”

His words hit me hard, like a secret he didn’t mean to say out loud.I don’t dare to breathe, but time slows down and in this precious moment all I’m aware of is his voice, his eyes, and the way those words imprint themselves on me like a promise I need him to make.Listening to him almost like he’s rambling to himself, I see admiration as he slowly takes me in from head to toe, then back up again.This man is swallowing me with his eyes.

“You’re made for this life, Daniela.”

Don’t fall for it.

I have to remind myself that he’s playing a part, and this is the rehearsal.

“A pretend wife?”I say, with some difficulty.Because nothing feels fake anymore.

He fixes me with a heated stare and something in my belly does somersaults.I think he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t.It hasn’t been easy being around him, but we’ve gotten into a routine.We keep our conversations neutral, not venturing into those areas which might lead us to talk about our feelings.We sometimes eat together.Once or twice he’s come home late after meetings.The weekdays are easier to navigate.

The weekends not so much.

We try to stay out of each other’s way, but the simmering tension between us amplifies a hundredfold during these times.I go to bed feeling aroused, and I’ve lain in bed wondering if he’s aroused and thinking of me, the way I’ve been thinking of him.

This is how the past few weeks have been like, ever since we started to live together.There are days when I don’t think I can survive a year like this.

Now this.We’re both dressed up and looking our best and tonight we’ll have to put on a show for everyone.

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