Betting with the Bride

Chapter Nineteen

Hunter

Trembling with rage, I lightly shut my eyes, willing myself to relax before I speak. I take slow, steady breaths, developing a soothing pattern. Counting to ten, I wait to speak. When my eyes open again, they soften when Ivory shrinks away from me, scared. "Please get ready, we are leaving," I inform her in a hostile tone.

I'm not disgusted by her, and I'm not angry with her. I'm simply disappointed. She doesn't have enough faith in me to believe that I would do something about this. She thinks I'll be unfazed, that I'll let the criminal by with a warning. It pesters me to no end that she would just brush me aside as if I'm just the peanut gallery. To her, I'm an arrogant man that is fed on a silver spoon! I don't blame her! I forced her into marriage! What else do you expect from me? I'm pathetic. Without another word, I storm out of the room. Not once did she trust I'd take care of the issue. Not once did she believe I had everything under control. How can I keep her safe if she won't allow me to? She's so difficult! Why do I even try?

I know why I try. There's many reasons why I try. Not only is her appearance flawless, but so is her personality. She's feisty, like in the cafe when she served me coffee and had to bite her tongue from retorting with a snide remark; I had to hide my smirk, or she would've blown. She's kind. The same day she served me, she sat with an elderly woman and had a ten minute conversation with the lady about her husband. She's patient, very. Not only can she deal with me, but she can have a tactful argument with a customer at the hotel for half an hour about their suitable service, and she'll win them over. She adores children, not to mention she is amazing with them. The way she handles the boy in the day care is so tender and full of love. She won't admit it, but she wants children, but doesn't want to see them get hurt. She is so nurturing towards her mother. Yes, they fight occasionally, but she aspires to be like her mother. Ivory is beautiful, but I didn't begin to love her because of her image.

I began to love her for the small acts she'd unintentionally perform. Her mien when she would concentrate on her work. Her eyebrows would furrow, her cheeks would hold a rose tint, her eyes would narrow in on her goal, and she would persevere until the job was completed. The way she'd blush like a hormonal teenager was so reverable. I've never seen a grown woman blush, but if I would compliment her in any way or simply smirk at her, a perfect, pale pink would color her cheeks wonderfully. And the way she bites her bottom lip in frustration or nervousness makes her completely edible. It takes every single ounce of control in my body to not ravish her body with kisses then and there. The way she keeps her calm, and manages to calm me down when I'm out of control is writing on the wall that she is for me, and I am for her. If only she would let herself realize that.

A polite voice shakes me out of my state of remembrance. "Hunter, what are you doing here?" Mrs. Crawford asks from the doorway of the living room. She must've entered while I was day dreaming. She doesn't seem startled or worried that I am in her home. Her hospitable smile is welcoming and sincere, not forced like others'. Cordially, she invites me to sit down while she fetches her daughter. I hadn't known that I was awkwardly standing by the hallway entrance, in a daze.

Ivory resembles her mother in appearances, but not so much in personality. Her mother is more shy and reticent. Ivory will voice her opinion and the truth without caring who will find her rude. Her mother would elegantly offer her opinion with a less demanding side. Ivory will grow loud and argumentative while her mother will remain quiet and provide fact and reason.

I glance up when two women enter the room, one with a jubilant grin, the other with a sorrowful frown. Although makeup strategically conceals the rough bruises, I can't clear the vicious image from my mind. Her perfect, porcelain skin covered in malicious blemishes caused by a beastly animal.