Page 34 of Hate You Forever (Hate 1)

“Glad we cleared that up. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to what you rudely interrupted.”

“Uh, yeah sure. I’ll be outside if you need anything. This is my number, just in case.” He hands me a sleek black business card that looks way too professional for a bodyguard. His stare hardens as he turns around to leave, like he’s putting his mask back on. Before he makes it outside, he walks past the mirror hanging in the hallway. “What the hell?” He leans closer to the mirror, inspecting the bandaid.

“It’s the only one I had,” I lie. “Honestly, it looks pretty good on you.” I start laughing, not able to take how mortified he looks. He goes to peel it off, but I put my hands up. “No, stop. Leave it. It will continue to bleed otherwise.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but leaves it alone before pulling the door open. The moment he steps outside, I lock my door, leaning against it. Not like that will help much, considering he has a damn key.

This marriage is going to be an absolute disaster, I can already tell. Hopefully, the less we have to see each other, the better—otherwise one of us will end up dead. I know I’m just his fake wife, but the fact that he couldn’t be bothered to even drop the ring off or pick it out himself is a clear indication of how this next year is going to go.

It would make things a lot easier if I could take the high road and be civilized, but something about this man drives me insane. He’s so easy to infuriate, but he does the exact same thing to me. I feel like I become so childish when I’m around him, stooping to low levels just to get under his skin, but I know he’s doing it right back.

Marnix Taylor might just be the death of me. If he continues to pull bullshit stunts like this, I’ll hit back ten times harder. His-ever growing ego needs to get knocked down a few pegs.

He might think he’s in control, but I’m about to wreak havoc on everything he knows.

* * *

I have gone certifiably insane.That’s the only explanation for why the hell I agreed to this. I’m surrounded by gorgeous dresses covered in lace, tulle, and jewels, but none of this is right. It’s pressured and rushed, like I’m picking something that really doesn’t express who I am.

Probably because this isn’t a real marriage.

I’m honestly surprised Marnix didn’t pick out my dress for me, since he seems to like being the one in control of my choices. He set up appointments at three different dress shops, hoping that one of them will have a dress that will appease me. His words, not mine.

I was able to find a dress for our engagement party, one that I’m not sure he’ll approve of, but what’s new? I feel confident, sexy, and incredible in it. If he doesn’t like it, he can go fuck himself. I might be a little deviant, because I can’t wait for the look on his face when he sees me in it. I can already imagine that vein in his forehead popping out when I waltz around in front of everyone.

Right now, I’m at store number three and it’s not looking promising for a wedding dress. Lya and Lainey came along for this train wreck, but they’ve been extremely patient with me. I don’t think it helps that I don’t love shopping in the first place, and I still have no clue of what any of these bridal dress terms mean.

Rush picked me up at my apartment this morning, and he’s been driving us around to each place. I kept calling him Rushton, but for some odd reason it felt way too formal for him. I can’t explain it. Maybe it was because I attacked him half naked, and there’s nothing quite like rubbing your naked pussy on a man to make you more familiar with them, but I feel a sense of comfort around him. I don’t even know the guy, but I can just sense something good about him. So Rush it is. He hasn’t said anything about me calling him Rush, so I don’t think he minds.

He came into the first two bridal shops, staying close by like someone might be hiding in the mass of dresses. His eyes almost bugged out of his head when he saw me in the dress I picked for the engagement party. His dark eyes slowly roamed up and down my body, hunger in his stare. He gulped and told me it was a beautiful dress, but I know he was freaking out internally about what Marnix would say.

This time, he decided to wait in the lobby where he’s still close enough to protect me, but where he doesn’t have to see the dresses I pick. Probably so he won’t have to lie if Marnix asks him about it.

“Alright, what about this one?” The saleswoman comes over with a stunning fitted dress that has a deep neckline and open back. The pure white silk would look nice against my tan skin, but it’s not what I’m imagining. It doesn’t wow me like I want it to.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur not very enthusiastically. It’s a stunning dress, just not for me. However, this poor saleswoman has pulled so many dresses that I feel like I owe it to her to put it on.

“Do you want to try it on? If you don’t like it, you don’t have to,” Lya says from beside me. Thankfully, she’s been the one to keep me grounded today. She has no problem rejecting dresses she knows I won’t like.

“No, I’ll try it on. It could be the one, you never know.” Honestly, I’m over this, but I have to find something fast, considering Marnix is ready to get married at the speed of light.

“Tara, pick what you feel comfortable in. This is your day,” Lainey tells me, seeing the exhaustion written all over my face. She turns to the woman helping us. “Do you guys have anything more vibrant? Something more fun?” This place has a lot of different types of dresses, including stunning black ones, short ones, even a rainbow one. They might be the best bet to have something that fits my style and heritage, but they haven’t given me anything other than basic white dresses.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I was told to only bring you traditional white dresses.” Her voice is timid, as she looks between all three of us.

“What?” Lya, Lainey, and I screech in unison.

“Mr. Taylor gave instructions to only bring you white wedding dresses that aren’t too revealing and which hug your frame nicely.”

And just when I was surprised he’d actually let me pick out my own dress... That motherfucker.

“I understand what Mr. Taylor said, but he’s not the one wearing the dress. If you bring me something different, I’ll make sure you’re heavily rewarded for it later. I’ll even tell Mr. Taylor you were adamant about me not trying on anything different. He knows I can be pretty demanding; he won’t blame you.” I hate to pressure the lady, but this shit is boring when I know they have a wide variety of dresses that might fit me better.

“Mr. Taylor... He said to call him if—” I cut her off by raising my hand.

“It will be okay. It’s a fun game we like to play, where he sees if I’ll listen to him—if I don’t, I get punished when I get home.” She gasps, clutching her chest, probably thinking I mean something else, so I clarify. “You know, like a kinky punishment.” I shoot her a wink, letting her imagine what Marnix and I do in the bedroom. I mean, I’m not above getting freaky in the bedroom—hell, I love it. It just won’t be happening with my dear husband.

“Oh, so like, he’ll spank you?” Her face turns red with embarrassment. Poor woman looks like she’s about to have a heart attack.

---