The Marriage Contract (PUBLISHED!)

Chapter Six

            His lips were hot against my ear, as his arm wrapped over my back- pressing me so tight against his chest- I could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat against mine.

"Don't over react," he whispered, staring intently at me. "Just smile. The paparazzi are under the fallacy that we've eloped, so we've got to keep up our act, sweetheart. Understand? So smile a pretty smile, because for the next twelve months, you're Mrs. Bellevue."

My arms lay limp at my sides, as a cold chill swept down my neck, causing me to shiver. James's honey brown eyes sparkled against the ceiling light, as he lifted his brows, waiting for my next move. A bitter taste lingered in my tongue, like that of old prunes, as I swallowed a breath, flashing him a stiff smile.

We broke apart, as he took a step back, turning his head towards the crowd of paparazzi that were snapping pictures from the open square window.

"Hey James, look this way!" a dark skinned man shouted, shoving a photographer to the side. "Does your father know about this marriage?"

"Yeah, tell us!" yelled another paparazzi, whose double chin shook as he spoke. "Why her?"

I shielded a hand over my brows, for the flash of light from their cameras stung my eyes. James gave the paparazzi another winning smile, walking towards me, and placing his hand in mind.

"Because she cares about me," he told them. "Not my money. A girl like that is hard to find these days. And besides, I need someone who can put up with me."

The paparazzi laughed like a chorus of clowns, continuing to flash their cameras at us as though we were movie stars.

But as James walked us to a nearby table, towards our marriage certificate, I felt more like a prostitute than a star. Though I was only marrying him to save the shelter, I couldn't help but feel that I was selling myself away.

I glanced to the side, searching for the Priest, because I needed someone, anyone, to talk to. To tell me that I shouldn't sign that piece of paper, because it would mean that I was making a joke of my life. But the Priest had disappeared, and an image of Rosefield shelter being bulldozed to the ground flashed over my mind, reminding me why I was marrying him.

"Don't over think," James whispered- his face an inch away from mine. "Just sign it."

I leaned an arm over the wooden table, my palms beginning to burn from how tightly I was clenching the wood, as I stared at the marriage certificate.

Picking up the pen beside the white paper, I tried to still my hand from quivering, as I signed my name at the bottom of the sheet.

"Perfect," said James. "See how easy that was?"

I didn't reply, but as his hand reached towards mine to take out the pen that I was clutching in my palm, I could feel his body stiffen.

A tear drop had fallen from my cheek, to his fore hand, soaking like a puddle against his porcelain skin. The clock on the wall must have stopped turning, for time felt immobile, as his warm palm squeezed over mine. In that moment, we turned our head, staring at each other, as though giving a kind of silent comfort. The shouts of the paparazzi had become a light buzzing noise, and the only sound that resonated between us, was the rush of light wind passing through.

He tilted his head, bringing his thumb towards my face, as though ready to wipe off the fallen tear.

But as I realized what was happening, I gasped, pulling myself away from him, and suddenly, time continued once more.