Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 81: False Hope

Matthew

"Oh, Matthew. I am glad to have caught you," Marishka says as I am on my way out. She hands me an envelope. "This came for you."

I take the envelope from Marishka, frowning slightly as I turn it over in my hands. "It looks like some kind of an invitation," I murmur absently.

Marishka tilts her head, curiosity flashing in her eyes. "An invitation? To what?"

I shrug. "Only one way to find out."

Sliding a finger beneath the seal, I open the envelope and pull out a thick, cream-colored card. The edges are embossed with a silver pattern, elegant and old-fashioned. Our names are printed at the top in calligraphy, followed by a short message:

"You are cordially invited to attend the 50th marriage anniversary party of Charles and Evelyn at the Grand Sky Hotel. Dress in evening wear.

March 17th, Seven PM."

I raise an eyebrow. "Sarah’s parents’ anniversary party. But what’s with the formal invitation? Why not just call us directly?" I muse.

Marishka chuckles. "Well, you know Evelyn and how she is. She likes to show off."

"You are invited too of course," I tell her.

Marishka brightens. "Oh, that’s kind of them to invite me."

I smile at her. "You are family. It’s only natural you would be invited too."

Marishka nods. "I suppose you better go tell Sarah."

I hesitate. "Actually, could you tell her? I was about to head out," I ask. The truth is, I am not ready to face her yet. Not when I am about to burst out of my jeans.

God...I hope Marishka didn’t notice.

Marishka gives me a knowing look, her lips twitching like she’s holding back a smirk.

"Of course, Matthew," she says smoothly, tucking the envelope under her arm. "I’ll let Sarah know."

I clear my throat, shifting my stance in a way that I hope hides my... predicament. "Thanks."

Marishka lingers for a second longer. "You know," she muses, "it is nice that you have been spending a little more time with Sarah. She seems... happier lately."

I run a hand through my hair, forcing a neutral expression. "Yeah. I guess."

Her smirk deepens. "Well, don’t be out too late."

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, exhaling slowly.

Fresh air, that’s what I need.

I step outside, inhaling the crisp evening air, hoping it will cool the heat running through me.

I walk, my hands shoved deep into my pockets, trying to clear my head. But no matter how much distance I put between myself and that damn bathroom moment, Sarah’s soft sighs and the way her head tilted back under my touch won’t leave my mind.

Dammit. Why am I trying to resist this anyway? It’s not like we haven’t had sex over a hundred times already.

My phone rings in my pocket, so I snatch it out.

Sarah’s name flashes before me.

"Wha-what?" I bark, unable to stop the tremor in my voice.

"Where did you go?" Sarah asks softly.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, trying to steady myself. Her voice alone is enough to mess with my head.

"Just... out," I say.

Sarah hums on the other end. "Out where?"

I huff, rubbing the back of my neck. "Does it matter?"

"It does when you leave so suddenly," she counters. "And when you sound all... flustered."

Damn her. She knows.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Did Marishka tell you about the invitation?"

"She did," Sarah confirms. "You didn’t want to tell me yourself?"

I exhale sharply. "I figured you’d hear about it soon enough."

Sarah is quiet for a beat. Then, in a voice far too sweet, she asks, "Come home, Matthew."

"Sarah..." I start, but I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.

"Matthew," she says my name softly and that alone makes me want to run back.

She is a damn Siren.

I turn, already walking back. "I am coming back, but not because you asked me to," I say, lying to her and myself.

She giggles. "Okay."

Damn her.

~-~

I go up the stairs slowly and pause outside the bedroom, my hand hovering over the doorknob.

What am I doing? What is she doing to me? This push and pull between us is maddening. One minute I’m determined to make her life hell, the next I’m washing her hair and rushing home at her beck and call.

With a deep breath, I push the door open.

Sarah is lying stretched across the bed on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, her bare feet crossed at the ankles and swaying lazily in the air. She’s wearing her sheer nightgown, the hem riding up just enough to reveal the curve of her thighs.

She is looking at the invitation card, her fingertips tracing the embossed silver pattern as she studies it with an intensity that makes me wonder what she’s really thinking about.

Her hair falls in damp waves around her shoulders, still carrying the faint scent of that citrus shampoo. The memory of it sliding between my fingers hits me like a physical force.

She looks up at my entrance, her eyes meeting mine.

"You came back quickly," she says simply, her lips curving into a small smile.

I clear my throat, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth is. "I said I would."

"So," she says, tapping the card with a fingernail. "The big anniversary party. Mom’s been planning this for months."

I step further into the room, keeping a safe distance from the bed. "Fifty years is a long time."

Sarah nods, her expression thoughtful. "It is. Hmm...I am going to need a dress to wear."

"You have plenty of dresses," I say, staring at her body again.

She looks at me, her eyes dark. "None that will be good enough, according to my mother. She always complains that nothing looks good on me since I didn’t inherit all of her beauty."

My jaw tightens. "That’s bullshit."

Sarah lets out a soft laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. "Is it?" free𝑤ebnovel.com

I step closer, ignoring the warning bells in my head that tell me to keep my distance. "Yeah, it is," I say firmly. "Your mother is full of shit, Sarah."

She exhales, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. "Maybe. But she is not completely wrong. I mean, I am not what you would call classically beautiful."

I stare at her, my frustration mounting. "What the hell does that even mean?"

Sarah turns her head to look at me, something unreadable in her eyes. "You know what I mean, Matthew. I don’t have my mother’s perfect bone structure, her sharp features, her...presence."

She waves a hand vaguely, then lets it fall onto the bed. "People don’t turn their heads when I walk into a room. And besides, why are you arguing with me anyway? You said I was not pretty either, remember? Not beautiful like Amanda."

My whole body goes rigid.

I did say that, didn’t I?

"I said that out of anger," I murmur.

She shrugs, still staring at the ceiling. "Doesn’t make it any less true."

I cross the room and hover over her. "It does, actually. It makes it completely untrue."

Sarah looks at me with surprise. "What are you doing? Why are you—"

"I’ve been trying to control myself since I’ve seen you soaking in that damn tub," I say, gritting my teeth. "Now, why would I want you so much if you were not pretty?"

Her eyes widen slightly, lips parting. "Matt—"

"You’re not pretty, Sarah," I say, voice low as I lean closer. "You’re fucking breathtaking."

She blinks rapidly. "You don’t have to—"

"I’m not saying it to make you feel better." My hands press into the mattress on either side of her, creating a cage.

Sarah’s breathing quickens, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that makes it hard for me to focus. "You shouldn’t say things like that," she whispers, but she doesn’t move away. If anything, she arches slightly toward me.

"Why not?"

"Because..." She swallows hard. "Because it will give me false hope."

I lean closer, my breath brushing against her ear as I whisper, "Maybe that’s my plan. Giving you hope and then taking it away."

Her body stiffens beneath me, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she meets my gaze, those eyes of hers both guarded and daring all at once. There’s a challenge in them.

"That I can believe. But I won’t dare hope. Not with you," she breathes.

"Because you’re afraid of me?" I ask, studying the way her pulse flutters at the base of her throat.

"Because I’m smart," she counters, though her voice lacks conviction. "You’re just...bored."

I laugh. "Is that what you think this is?"

Sarah’s fingers twist in the bedsheets. "What else could it be? You like to use my body when you want it. When you feel the need."

"Do you want me to leave you alone tonight, then?" I ask.

Please say no.

She bites her lip. "No..."

Oh, thank god.