Page 15 of The Night Runs Red

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence between us.

Rion leaned back in his chair, draping an arm across the one beside him. “As I stated last night, our marriage will be different than you might have expected.”

“Yes, you made that clear,” I said, staring down at the food on my plate.

He ignored my comment, pushing forward as if I’d never said anything. “I will not ask you to adhere to anything I will not ask of myself. I do not care what relationships or entanglements you seek if they are not made public. We must always maintain a flawless image, or the tenuous peace our families have painstakingly curated will crumble in moments. Maintaining this is critical, Calia. Do you understand that?”

My fists ached, and I wanted to clench them and relieve the tension, but I didn’t want him to know just how much his indifference bothered me. It was a feeling I was all too used to, and most of the time, I could shrug it off. But somehow, this was different. His aversion to being with me was starting to crack my strong façade.

I’d spent years building back my confidence after watching it be torn apart by people who didn’t understand the consequences of their actions. From an early age, I was forced to realize how cruel the words of others could be and the damage they could inflictt. Most mornings, I dreaded waking up to don my school uniform, loathing the way classmates would snicker behind my back at the dimples along the back of my legs. Or how they would point out how different I looked from the others with my flaming locks. Money and status didn’t matter. If anything, in my case, it made the situation worse.

But the whispering became unbearably loud in my mind, a constant loop of insults which began in their voices, but ended in my own.

The fact Rion was already unraveling the confidence I’d worked so hard for when I’d spent less than twenty-four hours with him was a low blow. I should be stronger. I should let his words roll off my back and pay him no mind. If he didn’t like me, then that was his problem. Not mine.

But the word ‘should’ was where dreams went to die. It was a dangerous complication that prevented me from standing up to the worst voice living freely in my mind.

Which was why I forced myself to keep my mouth shut—for fear of spilling out each dark insecurity plaguing me. Silently, I nodded.

Apparently, that wasn’t good enough for my husband. “Use your words, Calia.”

“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat and averting my gaze. “I understand.”

He watched me, waiting for any hint of a lie to cross my features. I should’ve spoken up and told him what I thought of his treatment. If we had any hope of making this work or being cordial, we had to be honest with each other. But I couldn’t bring myself to hear his rejection. It was painful enough to have the thoughts racing through my mind; I didn’t need to hear them confirmed aloud.

“This is not about you,” he said quietly, peering down at the table where his fingers drew circles along the woodgrain. “You are a beautiful woman, Calia. Absolutely breathtaking, if I’m honest. However, you and I are not the same. We would not be compatible in any capacity other than acquaintances—friends at best—but never lovers.”

It was like he reached into my mind and plucked my thoughts from where I’d hidden them, and I hated it with every fiber of my being. His compliments didn’t soften the blow, as I was sure he thought they would. Because my mind twisted his words into something they weren’t.

“Of course,” I said, offering him a brittle smile to attempt to mask the hurt as I sipped my now-cold coffee. The food on my plate was suddenly unappealing, and I pushed it away as I had so many times before when the sting of rejection washed over me.

His brows furrowed, looking between me and the plate. “Is there something wrong with your meal?”

“No, of course not. I’m just not hungry anymore.” I forced a laugh, feeling it rattle against the hollow pit in my chest. “I guess my eyes were bigger than my stomach.”

Rion didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push the subject. “Our first appearance is minor, but it will be a test all the same—a way to see if we can pull off this ruse. At the end of the month, the mayor is holding a small charity gala at his penthouse. An invitation has been extended to us, given the excitement around our nuptials. My uncle will be there, as well as your father, so we cannot afford to slip up.”

My back straightened at the mention of my father. If he was going to be there, perhaps my aunt would be, too. “Do you know if any of my other family will be in attendance?”

“I do not.” I raised my brows, waiting to see if he would offer to find out, but nothing came. “You will need to look your best. I have already arranged an appointment for you to be fitted for something proper.”

“What’s wrong with the outfits your mother picked out? Or any of the gowns hanging in my closet?” It was filled to the brim with clothing I never would wear. At least, not if I could help it. The wardrobe was devoid of color, filled with whites and creams, a disaster waiting to happen. I could hardly get through a day without spilling something on myself.

Rion shrugged, a piece of hair falling into his eyes. “Is there anything in there that interests you?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then do not question my generosity. Just say thank you.”

My already thinning patience was fraying further with each second I spent in his company. It was clear he had no tact when it came to speaking to another person. Which was fine as long as he didn’t expect me to give him grace when he offered none in return. “You’re exceedingly arrogant. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

“Many times.”

“And?”

“And I do not care what others think of my conversational skills. I ensure my family, friends, and people have what they need. That is what I care about. And you, being my wife, will never want for anything again while you are with me.”

“Except for pleasant conversation, perhaps.”

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