Recklessly Bound

Chapter Fourteen

I wear a smile while looking around me. The walls are covered in shades of blue, and what seems like to be rays of light to give it a spiritual theme. The guests are standing around small, tall tables, few of them drinks in hand and the rest clapping.

Ethan holds my hand firmly and places it in the crook of his arm. Tonight, I am the lady on his arm.

"Thank you," he says, nodding at a few people.

"Wow, you two look so beautiful next to each other. It's like the match was made in the heaven," Mary says, approaching us in her pearly white dress. Tonight might be one of the few times anyone would see her with makeup.

"Uh," I laugh nervously, looking up at Ethan through my lashes, wondering what goes through his mind right now.

"Thank you, mom. You've done an excellent job with the venue," he compliments her. Change of subject.

"Oh my Gosh, I know! Who knew I could manage an engagement party and a wedding in less than two weeks, right?" she gushes.

"Hey, you," I hear Angelic's voice before she appears in front of me. She looks beautiful with her hair up in a ponytail and her lavender dress, sashaying toward me. The dress is hugging her hips and holding up her breasts in a perfect way.

"Hey," I grin, letting go of Ethan's arm to hug her.

"Oh, girl, it feels like I haven't seen ya for ten years," she sways me to left and right,

"Same," I sigh as I feel less nervous, knowing at least there is someone in this ballroom who would know how I feel and whom I can steal away to confined in.

"You look beautiful," she says, waving her hand up and down, assessing me.

"Angelic," I hear Mary, "oh my god, I haven't seen you in a while," Mary steals away my best friend and I stand there sheepishly and concerned when I realize I am not alone.

"Let's go meet some people," Ethan says,

Nodding, I let him lead me. For the next half an hour, we walk around, meeting his business associates and friends, those who are mostly close to him. All the while, I couldn't help feeling as if I'm an outsider among his circle. True, he waltzes me around, introducing me to people, but I don't feel like he's really enjoying it much.

"Well, here are the young folks," John says, approaching us. Next, to him, my father is standing, looking rough and tired. My heart wretches, watching the man of my family being oppressed under pressure and painstaking times.

"Hi," we exchange greetings, with me hugging them and Ethan shaking hands. You would think he would be less informal with his father at least, but there is such a stiffness in him that doesn't allow him such flexibilities.

"Some champagne over here," John signals a waiter walking by.

We each grab a glass.

"To you," John says, raising his glass. We all click it and drink, while I watch my father over the rim of my flute.

"Dad, do you wanna dance?" I suggest, hoping to cheer him up,

"Are you sure honey? Your first dance should be with Ethan,"

"No, no, by all means, sir, dance and enjoy the party," Ethan says politely,

"Alright," we hand off our champagne glasses and continue to the dance floor. When we enter, I hear a few cheers.

I allow my father to embrace me and let the music flow us in. We sway for a few seconds. I put my head on his chest.

"Stop overworking yourself, please," I whisper, hoping he would hear.