Page 4 of Hale's Pawn
“Don’t grab my daughter to go anywhere when I’m talking to her.” I don’t like her tone.
It’s not only condescending, but it’s also disrespectful. I’m not lower than her, I’m her fucking equal on this Island. I stand tall and straighten my suit, closing the distance between us. “You may scare some other bitches on this Island, but you don’t scare me. This girl is not your daughter anymore after today. She’s going to be my wife and the next time I see your hand touching her in any way, I guess I’ll have to have a word with the same man who threatened me into marrying her. Mind your business when it comes to me and my wife!” I say the last word with both anger and animosity.
I walk back to where Ainslee is standing staring at me. She doesn’t say anything, she just looks at me. “Why didn’t you stop her from doing that?” I ask her.
Ainslee sighs, but she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she fully faces me. “Can you come down a bit closer?” she asks.
I roll my eyes this time and do as she asks, just for shits and giggles. She better not think I won’t bring it up, because I will. I want to know about the random scarring on her back too. Ainslee fixes my bow tie and I take her in. Her face is done up to perfection and what I’m even more astonished about is how Natasha Bishops has managed to slap Ainslee and yet there isn’t a mark on her face. I see the faint redness creeping from Ainslee’s neck and she lets go of me. “Here.” I shove the bouquet at her then I slip my free hand into hers and begin this shitty journey.
AINSLEE
My entire face is on fire, but I don’t show it at all. This is nothing new. My mother has always treated me like this. If I would’ve moved, it would’ve turned into World War 3. I sigh as the warmth of holding Oran’s hand runs through my body. I want to hug him for rescuing me, but I don’t need a knight in shining armor. I don’t need a single soul.
The photographer stands a couple of feet in front of us as he takes some pictures. “Mr. and Mrs. Hale, can you pose for some pictures?” I want to yell at him and tell him I’m a Bishops but right now, nothing sounds great. Oran and I pose like a couple that doesn’t hate each other. If I wasn’t so distraught, I’d compliment Oran on how sexy he looks. The light beard on his face, the way his hair is tapered to perfection. His hair is slicked back, but the front is coiffed to leave a bit of the longer hair in the front in its curly state. He looks like prime rib-eye steak. Ready for the tasting. Oran’s gray eyes land on mine and I hurry to fix my face before he notices what I’m doing. He smirks but says nothing.
Oran eyes me up and down. He lingers on the split for a second. I open my mouth to defend myself but he doesn’t say a word, instead he lets my hand go and moves me in front of him. I know it’s for the pictures, so I don’t complain. I feel Oran’s hand as it slowly glides down my arm giving me goosebumps. He doesn’t stop until he sneaks his hand into the split. I stand stiff as a board on purpose. Oran doesn’t do much more but wrap his arm around my thigh. “Relax, nugget. It’s just for the pictures. I wouldn’t dare jump you like you did me.”
I take a deep breath in and out. “Stop calling me nugget. My name is Ainslee,” I reply.
I feel him shrug. “It’s that or brat since you had daddy pick me for you,” he says harshly. “Safe bet, huh? We’ll see.” There’s an edge to his words, but my mind is hyper focused on the feel of his knuckle brushing up against the side of my pussy every time he caresses my thigh.
“Can you stop doing that? Let go,” I grit through my teeth.
I feel as Oran leans down lower, right by my ear. “You’re my wife, I do as I please with your body. Isn’t that why you chose me? To be safe and boring for you? How safe and bored are you now?”
I shudder at his words. Oran straightens his big body, and on his way up, he grabs my ass. Before I can turn to ask him what he’s doing, my mother walks by and she threatens me with her eyes. The little girl in me runs back inside myself and I turn off my emotions.Don’t ever show your enemies your emotions.
Oran turns me around like we’re freaking ballroom dancing and he tips my chin up with his finger. “You look at me.”
I blink.Huh?
“So are you two going to stand there eye-fucking each other or...?” I turn away from looking at Oran and come face to face with Jagger.
I eye him up and down. Usually, I’d say something mean or rude, but he actually looks good. I can’t pretend like I’ve never once thought about Jagger Hanlon. I have, but in the end, I want to choke him out and I don’t care if he lives. Jagger whistles as he smirks. “Don’t you just look one more inch of a split away from getting fucked.”
“Kiss my ass, Jagger,” I say with enough venom for him to leave me alone.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Ains. I’ll throw you out after, but it’ll be worth it.” I roll my eyes and Jagger laughs. The sound echoes through my body.The fuck?I glare at him for his audacity and slip my hand into Oran’s. He flinches, but probably because he’s not used to it. Whatever. I’m not offended. Oran has a smirk that matches Jagger’s and I don’t have to even wonder why they’re best friends. Oran is quieter than Jagger for sure, but clearly, as I’m learning, he has his moments too.
“Let’s get this shit over with,” Oran states. He holds on to my hand and Jagger moves out of our way. He gives me one last glance over and hums in approval. I look at him, but it seems like I looked too damned long because I know the color of his eyes. I glare at him and look away.
When we walk into a replica of a botanical sphere-shaped garden venue, I look around. The guests are all sitting down at the round tables and I love how they don’t have to stand like at a traditional wedding. It’s beautiful, and as the sun begins to set, it makes me wish that this was for real. I’m so awestruck by this entire moment. I take a deep breath in and release another as I try my best not to cry over what I’m doing. Oran isn’t the problem, everything else is. Me having to marry a man opposite of me in not only skin tone, but ethnicity as well. The Bishops’ are known for mixing races and we’ve kept it going for a long time. It doesn’t matter what ethnicity as long as it’s done and you’re not a pure blood, or for those not from the Island, fully black; doesn’t matter from where. Which is funny considering that we never lose that part of us and we never will. It’s an odd thing to understand and I gave up a long time ago trying to do all that. I sigh as the music plays while we walk down the aisle together. I catch a glimpse of Eli and I almost balk, but Oran doesn’t give me the chance to stop. He doesn’t realize that he just saved Eli’s life again because Eli is sitting right next to my father, Andres Bishops, and at the same table as Markos and Mikonos. My father looks right into my eyes, maintaining eye contact, and I’m not stupid enough to look away first. I continue walking until he blinks, tilts his head a little and nods, looking elsewhere. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. We continue walking. It's a soft nudge but I know what it means.
I sigh, shutting my eyes and I open them back up. I admire the walkway with the lighting. The wedding/reception is together in the same place. This is perfect for us because I want to get this over with as soon as possible. I might need a few drinks to get through the whole thing. Once we make it up to the altar, I hand my bouquet off to Lina, who is still upset because I didn’t bother with the maid of honor status. There’s nothing to fucking honor right now. Lina sort of snatches the bouquet from me as if I did something to piss her off. I don’t pay it any mind and face Oran. It’s like his attractiveness hits me every time I look at him. I blink, trying to shake it off and concentrate, but him staring right into my eyes makes me very self conscious. Why is he looking at me like that? Is that how intense my eyes look because of the color, or is it just him? Oran doesn’t say anything but he grunts, making a hmm sound and my eyes widen. It reminds me of my favorite tv show,The Witcher. This isn’t helping, especially considering the fact that he also resembles him.
“Can you stop looking at me like that?” I mumble as the officiant starts talking.
“Why? Does it make you uncomfortable, Ainslee?” he taunts.
“A little,” I reply.
“Good. Let me do you one better,” he says and moves in closer, not giving us any space. My eyes widen and I know better than to cause a scene, well... I should know better. I move back and Oran pulls me back to him. The officiant clears his throat and I stay put.
Oran doesn’t look anywhere else but at me. It’s too unnerving. I’ve never had someone look at me like this. I feel his hand wrap around my back and his fingers touch the peekaboo skin, but I stiffen because I don’t want him to feel the scars. “Please ...don’t,” I mumble, pleading with him.
“Don’t worry, I’m being safe,” Oran says to me once again. I clamp my mouth shut.
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