Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 84: The Party

Matthew

She doesn’t know I’m watching.

At least, I don’t think she does.

Sarah is standing in front of the mirror, pinning back the last few strands of hair. There’s this crease of concentration between her brows, the kind that makes me want to walk over and smooth it out with my thumb.

But I don’t.

Instead, I lean against the doorframe of her room, arms crossed, and watch. She hasn’t put the dress on yet, the green one, but even in the robe she’s wearing, she’s already glowing. There’s something about the way she moves when she thinks no one’s looking. Softer. Freer.

She turns a little and sees me. Her lips curl into a small smile.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asks, voice light.

"Just got here," I lie.

She raises a brow. "Yeah, right." She bends down to pick something up from her dresser.

My eyes catch on the silver hairpin in her hand. The one I gave her on our honeymoon.

She holds it gently, brushing her thumb over the curve of the metal like it’s something precious. And then she lifts it to her hair and pins it in place with practiced ease.

"You are wearing that thing?" I ask.

Sarah glances at me in the mirror, smiling. "Of course. I love it."

And I love seeing it in her hair even though I don’t want to admit it.

She turns slightly, adjusting the angle in the mirror, fingers brushing over the hairpin like it’s a part of her.

My throat feels tight.

I watch as she reaches for the belt of her robe, her fingers slowly untying it. The robe slips from her shoulders, pooling around her feet. She stands before me in nothing but her lace underwear. My breath catches in my throat.

I watch her as she steps into the green dress carefully, pulling it up over her hips with practiced grace.

"Can you zip me up?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder, her voice soft in the quiet room.

I hesitate only for a moment before crossing to her. My fingers brush against her bare back as I take hold of the zipper, and I feel her shiver slightly under my touch. I draw the zipper up slowly.

The dress is perfect. It’s sophisticated and tasteful. Exactly the kind of thing that would impress her mother.

"How do I look?" Sarah asks, turning to face me fully, her hands smoothing down the fabric.

I can’t speak right away.

She looks... breathtaking. The kind of beautiful that punches the air out of your lungs and then has the nerve to ask if you’re okay.

How the hell did I ever think she was plain?

I swallow hard. "You look..."

My voice cracks, so I clear my throat and try again. "You look pretty."

She brightens. "Thank you. I still feel kind of silly in this dress. It’s so...over the top."

"It’s not. It looks perfect on you," I growl. I have the intense urge to rip it off her body, but I ignore it.

Control Matthew...control.

She tilts her head, that soft smile still playing on her lips. "You really think so?"

I nod, jaw tight. "Yeah. I do. Now let’s go," I say, grabbing my jacket.

Marishka comes out to the living room to meet us. She is wearing a silver dress. "Gosh, I feel so odd wearing a dress so fancy," she says, laughing nervously.

I turn to look at Marishka, offering a reassuring smile. "You look great," I say.

Sarah turns as well, a soft smile on her lips. "You look beautiful, Marishka," she says, her tone warm, genuine.

Marishka seems to brighten a little, her shoulders relaxing. "Thank you, both. I’m not really used to this kind of thing."

Sarah laughs lightly, adjusting her clutch. "I know. But you’ll be fine. Maybe you will catch someone’s eyes and find someone you can date."

Marishka chuckles. "At my age? Oh dear god, no."

~-~

I pull up to the curb at the Grand Sky Hotel, handing my keys to a young valet who nods respectfully. Sarah sits beside me, her fingers fidgeting with the clasp of her clutch, a nervous habit I’ve noticed since I met her.

"Ready?" I ask.

She takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling beneath the emerald fabric of her dress. "As I’ll ever be."

I step out and circle around to open her door. When she emerges, the green dress catches the light, making her skin glow.

"Your mother will approve," I murmur as I offer her my arm.

Sarah’s lips quirk into a half-smile. "Yeah, we will see."

We enter the hotel lobby, a huge space with marble floors and crystal chandeliers. A sign with elegant calligraphy directs guests to the "Golden Anniversary Celebration" in the Grand Ballroom.

Sarah’s grip on my arm tightens as we approach the ballroom doors.

And there they are, standing at the entrance like royalty receiving their subjects. Charles, tall and distinguished in his tuxedo, silver hair perfectly groomed.

And Evelyn, resplendent in a champagne-colored gown that probably cost more than some people’s cars, her blonde hair arranged in an elegant updo, diamonds glittering at her throat and ears.

I nearly roll my eyes at her flashiness.

"Sarah, darling," Evelyn says, air-kissing both of Sarah’s cheeks. "You made it. And that dress..." She pauses, tilting her head slightly.

"...Finally, you’re wearing something age-appropriate," Evelyn says with a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Sarah’s hand clenches slightly around my arm.

"Good evening, Evelyn," I say, keeping my tone cool. I don’t smile.

Evelyn gives Marishka a fleeting glance. Barely polite. "Marishka," she says. "You came."

"Thank you for the invite, Evelyn," Marishka says politely but I can feel the tension radiating off her.

Strange...Marishka is Sarah’s nanny. The woman practically raised her and yet, Evelyn looked at her with contempt.

"Your father’s been dying to see you," Evelyn adds with a faint wave toward Charles.

Charles strides toward her and pulls her into a warm hug. "Sweetheart, you look gorgeous."

"Thanks, Daddy," Sarah murmurs.

He looks at Marishka. "Ah, Mari...you look beautiful as well.

I see Evelyn tense beside him as she smiles tightly.

"Thank you," Mariska says. "I am happy to be here to share your special occasion tonight."

Charles waves his hand in dismissal. "Of course you will be here. You are family."

Evelyn shifts her gaze back to me. "Matthew, you clean up quite well. What a nice suit."

I nod, offering a thin smile in return. "Thanks, Evelyn. Sarah picked out for me."

"Oh, did she?" she quirked up an eyebrow.

"Sarah, Matthew. I want you to meet a dear old friend of mine. He just flew all the way from Brazil just to visit us," Charles says.

Charles waves over to a man who’s making his way toward us, dressed in an immaculate black suit. His smile is wide, but there’s something calculating in his eyes like he’s already assessing everyone around him.

"Matthew, Sarah, this is Rodrigo," Charles introduces him with a flourish, a hand placed proudly on the man’s shoulder. "Rodrigo, you remember my daughter Sarah? And this is her husband, Matthew."

Rodrigo extends his hand to me first, his grip firm, almost too firm. "It’s a pleasure, Matthew. I’ve heard so much about you," he says with a thick accent.

He smiles at Sarah. "Ah, Sarah. You are all grown up."

I feel her tense and her hand trembles slightly.

"I...um...have we met before?" she asks.

"Why yes," Rodrigo replies. "But, of course, it has been decades since I last saw you. You were maybe...eight or nine?"Sarah’s smile freezes on her face. "I... I don’t recall meeting you."

Rodrigo laughs, the sound rich and confident. "Ah, well, you were very young. I was doing business with your father in those days." His eyes linger on her face for a moment too long. "You have grown into quite an attractive woman."

Something about his tone makes my skin crawl.

I instinctively step closer to Sarah, my hand finding its place gently on the small of her back.

She stands rigidly beside me, her posture tense, as if she’s afraid to make even the slightest movement.

What is her problem?