Page 43 of Papers Don't Lie

Her gaze finally rises and collides with mine, her green eyes burning red for what I assume is the lack of sleep. She swallows, shrugging. “Because I chose it.”

I shake my head. “Nonsense.”

She bites down on her lip, avoiding my eyes. “Is it, though?” Esmeray steps closer to me. “Last night you kept calling me Esmeray, and I thought today that’d change, but it hasn’t.”

I don’t understand where she’s going with this. Why would she be bothered by me calling her by her name? Does she want me to pick out a nickname for her?

“What do you mean? How should I call you if not your name?” I ask, my brows furrowed.

Her eyes drop once again. “Ray.”

Did I… I didn’t even realize I hadn’t called her Ray anymore. It was completely unconscious and surely not meant to hurt her in any way. I guess deep down, I’m still bothered by what she said about me not being able to help everyone, even if she’s not the one to blame.

“You only call me Esmeray when you’re serious and apparently… mad,” she whispers, sucking in a breath afterward.

I’m surprised she noticed that when I didn't myself. “I’m not mad. I simply don’t like fighting with you.”

She nods, staring me directly in the eyes, and if she didn't accuse me of being mad, by her expression, I’d say she’s the one pissed between the two of us.

“Then where’s the purple handkerchief?” She quirks a brow.

I lift the margin of my coat a bit to show her the improvised thin bracelet I made out of it. Her eyes light up as she places her finger on it, twisting it on my wrist.

“It matches my bow, you know?” Esmeray says, continuing on touching it, and implicitly, me.

She moves her finger slowly on my skin, and if I didn’t have a suit on, she’d see the goosebumps that appear just for her. One single look, and she’d find out.

“I know.” I smile, then take her hand and thread it around my waist and arm so she can hold on to me as we walk down the stairs.

“So, are we fine?”

“We have to be,” I tell her, and straighten my back, opening the door for her when we get on the first floor. “After you.” I stretch my hand towards the exit, watching her hesitantly step outside. Esmeray’s dress holds tight to her generous curves, and the cut from her knee to her toes shows off her skinny legs. Her brown hair is loose, free as always, styled with a few elegant curls.

We follow the pavement path to the left side where the cars are parked and get into one. We’re surrounded by trees and a small garden full of flowers, bringing the black house some color.

Kendrick is already in the driver's seat, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

“Mr. and Mrs. Graves.” He nods his head at us before he drives away.

All the way to the event, Esmeray fidgets in her seat, arranging her dress, playing with her hair, and puffing air out of her lungs while she glances outside.

“Your apologies are accepted,” I murmur after I spend some time watching her bite her bottom lip.

Her head snaps to mine, and it takes her a second to register the meaning behind my words. “You didn’t say anything about it last night.” Esmeray’s tone is accusatory, my silence clearly bothering her.

“When I was out of the shower, it was gone. I thought you changed your mind about your apology,” I tell her, and the car comes to a stop.

She shakes her head, and I offer her my hand, knowing we can’t waste time talking. Esmeray takes it, a faint smile on her lips. I already prepared her for what’s going to happen, but that doesn’t mean she’s any less frightened by the idea of having paparazzi everywhere at this event.

As soon as we step out of the vehicle, the paparazzi are already taking pictures of us. This is the first news they've gotten about the Graves family in years. It’s been a while since there’s been any change in our family dynamic or any drama happening around us.

So I know they’re eating this shit up.

“It’s nothing to worry about. Just smile,” I whisper to her ear when I notice her holding her breath.

She does as I say, smiling at pictures like she was born for this while we grow closer and closer. My hand is on her waist and sometimes slips lower, while hers keeps wandering from my chest to my arms or my neck.

The paparazzi are on either side of us, the way to the entrance being covered by a red carpet. My eyes lift to the tall and old building until one of the photographers asks me to go hug her from behind. I do as he says, and when I get behind her,Esmeray’s back turns to stone, her harsh breath falling so loudly that I wonder if the paparazzi hear. My dick grows in my pants, and I’m tempted to get a taste of the soft skin on her neck.

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