Julieta
Vincent in a suit is one thing, but a tux is a whole other level of hotness. This night is going to be pure torture. My whole body has been buzzing with sexual need for over a week now. It doesn’t matter if I try and find the relief I need myself, I can't. Oh, I can get there. All I have to do is think about that shower with Vincent and I’m there, but the orgasm is nowhere near being on the level as the one he gave me.
Why can’t I be one of those cool girls that can just disconnect? Why do I have to attach emotion to it? People have sex all the time just to get off. Nothing more or less. Vincent seems like a great guy. We could be friends. Even as these thoughts play through my mind, I know how stupid they are. My heart would be gone to him in seconds. I think he might have some of it already or I wouldn’t be acting the way I have been lately.
It doesn't help that I’m all dolled up and feel damn sexy. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I couldn’t get over how good I looked, considering I didn’t have a full makeover. We went with some light touches to play up my natural features. The hair and makeup girls knew what they were doing. So did the woman who picked my dress. Then again, I guess that’s why they get paid the big money. I heard one of the women say that Vincent wanted me to still look like me. That shouldn’t have given me warm fuzzies, but it did. No matter how hard I try to keep him out of my emotions, he is always there.
“Stay close,” Vincent whispers into my ear as we enter a fancy hotel lobby, heading toward one of the ballrooms. His hand is on my hip. I feel his fingers flex, his hold on me tightening. He’s always so possessive. It confuses me.
If I thought I was shocked when I saw myself all dolled up, I don’t know what to call the look on Vincent’s face when he saw me step out of our bedroom. It was a mixture of anger and lust. Again, it only confused me more about what was going on between us. When I signed on the dotted line to be his wife, I thought this would be simple, but it’s been anything but.
I try not to fidget as we move through the giant ballroom. Vincent seems to draw a lot of attention. People glance at him and then me. I know people are curious. There have been a few articles run about our marriage, and some quotes that Vincent had given about us. But this is the first time we’ve actually gone to a function together.
“When you know you, you know. My father always told me that, and I thought he was crazy. That was until my Jules knocked me right on my ass,” Vincent said in one of the articles. The memory brings a smile to my face.
Each one of his comments was sweet, but they still hurt. It made me long for things that can’t or won’t ever be real. This is all a show. One that everyone is buying. They all keep eating it up. I need to keep reminding myself of that. I’ve done a better job of it as of late, but I still slip up once in a while. I begin to feel Vincent's irritation grow with each step we take. He even dodges a few people who try to stop and speak to us.
“You okay?” I lean into him a touch. As hurt as I might be about something, knowing Vincent is getting so worked up bothers me. A need to soothe him comes over me. Not really that shocking. When it comes to him, my body has a mind of its own. It’s one of the main reasons I’ve been trying to put some distance between us. My body can’t be trusted around him.
“They're staring at you.”
“I don’t care.” I shrug.
“I don’t fucking like it,” he practically growls. The sound rumbles from his body into mine, lighting a spark of desire inside of me. So not the time. I’m already on edge from keeping my distance from him.
“Isn’t this the whole point of what we’re doing?” Vincent stops walking at my question and turns to stare down at me. His face grows soft.
“No, that wasn’t the point. Not at all.” He lifts his hand that’s not still gripping my hip in a firm hold and gently runs his fingers down my jaw. I lean into his touch. I tell myself it’s for appearances. That I’m to act like a real wife in public at all times. It’s far too easy for me to play the role.
“What are you saying, Vincent? I want you to be very clear with me.”
“We shouldn’t do this here.”
“Right.” I tilt my head away from his touch. “Have to make sure we keep up those appearances.”
“Fuck appearances,” he barks loud enough that anyone close by could definitely hear him. “My control is rather lacking when it comes to anything to do with you.” His eyes slip down from mine to my body. The spark he’s already lit is growing quickly. The throb between my thighs is becoming unbearable.
“Is everything okay, Vincent?” a soft, familiar voice asks, breaking me from whatever lust-filled haze I was in. The female voice shouldn’t be familiar, but unfortunately, it’s burned into my brain.
I haven't seen or heard a thing about Lauren since that day she arrived at Vincent’s house. I don’t know why she up and disappeared. I hadn’t mentioned to Vincent what had happened, but in my mind, I was thinking he fired her because he had me to fill the slot. He just hadn’t realized beforehand that I wasn't going to fill all the roles. I’d shut that down as best as I could.
When Vincent turns his head, I step back from him and shift out of his hold. “Why are you here?” he asks as he tries to shift back closer to me.
“Really?” Lauren hisses. She is all dolled up for the event, not looking like an assistant at all. We’re so different in appearance. I thought men had certain types and they stuck to them, but what do I know?
“I’m going to use the ladies’ room,” I say, wanting as far away from this situation as I can get.
“I’ll walk you,” Vincent tries to insist. I shake my head no as I keep backing farther away from both of them.
I can’t do this. I’m not sure why I ever thought I could. This is all too tempting to the girl who never had a family of her own but always longed for one. It’s why I kept people at bay, knowing I would be easily sucked in. I let my guard down with Vincent. It was stupid that I ever thought I wouldn’t end up getting hurt. We've barely been married, and I’m already attached.
“I need a moment.” I put my hands out to make it clear I’m going alone. Vincent’s eyes narrow on me, and I know he’s about to object when Lauren grabs his arm. The second his eyes drop from me, I turn and make my escape, knowing there is no going back now.