Chapter Two
Pillow Talk
I STORMED INTO MY ROOM with the kind of rage a bull has when something is being waved in front of it. I didn't want to be near anybody for the rest of the night. It was infuriating how I had made specific conditions about having my own room and all, and then the plans just change because something happened. I'm supposed to have at least three more nights in here, yet I'm only given one.
I pulled off my leather pants and threw them across the room, onto the expensive black heels and jewelry. Buddy raised his head from his bed he only sleeps in when I'm in a bad mood, which has been often. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV with a growl and threw back the covers of the recently made bed, causing several pillows to fly across the room. That's when I noticed a tray sitting on my bedside, waiting for me. My eyes brightened a little, only to become dull and defeated once more when I saw a simple salad and a glass of water on the tray.
Screw it, I'd rather die.
I was tempted to slip out the window and take my motorcycle-something I still have because I put up one hell of a fight for-and take it to the nearest fast-food joint. I wanted something super greasy, salty, and a milkshake that has enough calories for a week. All they've been feeding me here has been healthy, perfectly portioned meals. Occasionally I'd get some comfort food, such as pancakes or turkey with gravy. I think Matthew must have ordered his staff to feed me really well in order to keep me healthy and kicking for as long as humanly possible. Little does he know all of the years of heavy drinking and drugs probably knocked a decade off my life.
My anger began to die down some after my favorite shows began coming on. But the fire burned inside of me right away when my bedroom door opened and Matthew stepped in. I immediately reached over and grabbed a pillow when he closed the door behind him, throwing the thing at him as hard as I could. I would have hit in right in the face, but he dodged the thing effortlessly.
"Get out. I still have one night to myself," I grumbled, snuggling deeper under the covers.
Matthew wasn't fazed by my anger. "You know, when we're married, you won't be able to lock yourself in your room. We're going to actually have to talk things through." He gave me a look of horror before coming closer.
"Until then..." I gripped another pillow.
"I came to talk. I know you're upset..."
"You think? You sprang a whole bunch of stuff on me in there! It's crap how I have no control of anything, including what I eat." To prove my point, I lifted the lid of my tray to display the pile of lettuce.
He seemed surprised by my outburst. "Salads are good for you."
"Not for my attitude. I haven't had a cheese burger in weeks." I let the lid of the tray drop on top of the tray. I knew I was being kind of dramatic here, yet I continued to huff and glare at him.
Matthew gave me this strange, calculative look. "I am sorry for springing everything on you. You've been in here the whole time and I didn't want to upset you any further." He then unbuttoned his suit jacket and slid it off, making me nearly leap out of bed.
"What're you doing?" I demanded harshly, prepared to jump up at any moment.
He bent down and untied his shoes, sliding them off as well. "I don't want to wrinkle my jacket, and shoes on the bed are considered rude." He then crawled into bed next to me, lying flat on his back. "This is literally all that will happen the next few days, in case that's why you're panicking."
I stared at him with a puzzled expression. "What?"
He closed his eyes and placed his hands on his stomach, completely going still. "This is all that will happen the next few days," he repeated patronizingly. "While you're sleeping, that is," he added with a teasing grin.
I grabbed a pillow, rolled until I was over him, and pressed it against his face, knowing all it'd do was mess up his perfectly styled hair. I actually found myself laughing menacingly. If he could have a sick sense of humor, so can I.
He was still for about a minute, causing me to actually be a little concerned. If I killed him, that'd probably cause a lot of problems here. When I lifted the pillow off his face, he was giving me a scowl. "You do know it is bad luck to kill the groom before the wedding, right?" He then looked at me, up and down, causing the smile to return. "Are you not wearing pants?"
I rolled off him and pulled the covers over my legs. "The leather pants were making my legs raw."
"I admit, I am looking forward to marrying you. You continue to surprise me." He said it was such admiration that I had to look away.
My light-hearted mood sizzled away and I went right back to my dark one. When I'm in a bad mood, my filter kind of malfunctions, leading to my bratty response. "I bet you've said that to all of your wives."
He looked up at me with a puzzled expression, mixed with a bit of heat in his eyes. "Excuse me?"
Shut up, the voice in the back of my head was whispering. I'm pretty sure that voice tries to keep quiet most of the time because it's afraid of me. "Well...You have been married a lot, so I've heard. You've probably felt the same for them, right?" My mouth just wouldn't close.
Matthew sat up a little taller with a calm and rational expression. He didn't look like he was about to light into me, but he did look like he was about to give me a long and well-thought-out lecture. I'd rather have him shout at me. "You shouldn't believe in rumors you've heard, Anna. People like to spread rumors about me being married over a dozen times, which is definitely a lie. I've been married three times. Well, four, if you count one time over a century and a half ago when I woke up married to this one woman in China." He flashed an uneasy smile at me. "That marriage was annulled that night."
Four times? Sure, it was less than I thought it'd be, but it was still four more times than I've been married. "That's quite a few," I murmured, trying to still stand by my accusations.
"Sweetheart, it's no secret that I've been on this planet a rather long time. If you think about it, I've been around for dozens of lifetimes, which means I've not even married once per lifetime. I'm even counting my first wife when I was human."
That sparked a question in me. What were those women like? If Matthew was as old as he portrays himself to be, why did those women catch his eye? "What was your first wife like?"
He narrowed his eyes at me, suspicious of my question. "Why do you want to know?"
"Call me curious. You know about my exes, I'm sure. I want to know about your past. I'll tell you about anything from my past if you share yours," I offered because I knew he basically researched everything about me anyway after I agreed to work for him; his background checks on all employees are extremely detailed, especially for assassins, I guess.
To my surprise, this offer caught his interest. "Deal."
I held out my hand and shook his to be sarcastic. "Tell me about your first wife when you were human."
Matthew's smile changed just a little. It was as if every horrific memory was being relieved. He kept a smile on his face, but I could tell it was forced. "Her name was Matilda. She had strawberry blonde hair and dozens of freckles on her face. She was the most gentle and kind person I've ever encountered, even now." He glanced at me as if I might have been offended by it.
I held up my hands. "Pft, I know I'm not gentle or kind. No secret there.
His lips twitched at that. "She absolutely loved being outside, to the point of always having some sort of sunburn on her cheeks. She had a garden and would spend hours out there digging in the dirt. She'd come home with dirt all over her dress and up to her elbows. She hated any sort of conflict and would go out to the garden any time we got into a heated discussion, which was often because I was a bit of a hot head then."
"She sounds like my total opposite," I replied, surprised by this.
"In a way, she was. She was a peacemaker and refused to fight about anything. She was also quiet all the time. Always thinking, never speaking. We were compatible then because I'd lose my temper and she would know exactly what to say to calm me down. It was her gentleness that made her vulnerable in the end. I doubt she even tried to fight."
We were both quiet for a minute or two. I wasn't sure what to say. Unlike his first wife, I'm crappy at knowing the right thing to say. I tend to just blurt out whatever was one my mind, which was currently a bag of potato chips, thanks to my healthy eating. "Sounds like you really loved her," I finally said. "You probably really miss her."
He looked back at me with those rare green eyes of his. "I did love her, when I was human. But she's no longer a part of my life anymore; she was a part of my human life. Thinking of her is like thinking of the wife of another man. I can't miss something that was a part of someone else's life."
In a way, I understood that. Maybe it's because I've gone through so many transitions in my life?
"Tell me about your boyfriend before David."
I was torn out of my deep thoughts of other lives and stared blankly at Matthew. "Huh? Oh, um, I guess that'd be Sawyer." I tried to remember that part of my life, which was something kind of wanted to never remember again. "Totally hot. He was one of those guys that was hot and knew it, so he used his looks as a weapon. He had that whole stubble thing going with messy hair and bedroom eyes."
"I'm regretting this deal," Matthew admitted.
I went on, even though Matthew was looking uncomfortable. "Sawyer loved partying and having a good time more than me. We just hit it off right when we met. He was exciting and unpredictable, yet he also let me live with him for a while. I think he's the only guy I've broken up with that it actually kind of burned."
He nodded, showing he was actually listening to me. "Why did you two breakup?"
"He cheated."
"Bastard."
My lips twitched at that. "Yeah, he was... Tell me about your second wife. When did you two marry?"
Matthew gave a sigh of frustration, though I had a feeling it had to do more with his second wife than the actual question. "Her name was Mary. She was quiet the handful. I married her a century after I was turned."
"Why did you marry her?"
He shrugged. "Morals were extremely high then, and I was lonely. It was either marry someone or end up alone. I married Mary a week after stumbling onto her family's farm. They approved of me, and Mary was crazy in love with me."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure she was."
"She demanded I turned her every single night."
I stared at him blankly. "She knew you were a vampire?"
Matthew chuckled. "Of course she knew. It's difficult to explain why you can't open the drapes during the day without tell them you're a vampire, sweetheart."
I wanted to smack him, but I resisted that urge. Sometimes he makes me sound like the biggest idiot. "Well, then she was crazy," I replied bitterly.
Matthew nodded. "She even went as far as withholding certain things. She threatened to kill herself numerous times, thinking it'd change my mind. She wanted an eternity with me, and I couldn't stand her in the year we were together."
"What happened?"
He looked away from me and stared at the TV as if it suddenly caught his interest. "I told her about how to become a vampire one night when I drank too much. I drank a lot back then as a newborn vampire because it seemed to ease the cravings. One day she tried to take some of my blood to turn herself as I slept. I woke up before she could get so much as a drop and lost my temper. Drained her instantly."
I should have been more surprised by this than I actually was. But I wasn't. I've seen what vampires are capable of. "You should have just let her go if you hated her."
"I was lonely and I needed a blood source. Try spending a century alone and living off of a limited blood supply when there was basically nothing back then."
My brow raised high at that. "Nothing? How old are you?"
Matthew gave me a smirk. "It's my turn now. Why David?"
My expression fell and I looked down at my hands. "I thought he was never to be spoken of again?"
"This will be the exception. I'll tell you my age if you tell me why you started dating David."
This was the strangest twist I've had all night. I tell my future husband why I dated the guy he killed, and then he'll tell me how old he is. Yeah, that sounds totally normal. "David wasn't really my type, honestly. It had been a while since I had, um, been with someone. I was lonely." The second that word slipped out Matthew gave me this look of empathy. I hated it. It wasn't because it was Matthew who has gone through the same feelings, but because I ever had them in the first place. I'm Joanna Garth and I was born to be a loner.
"It's an awful feeling, isn't it?" he murmured, leaning his head back against the pillow.
"How old are you?"
"Why wasn't David your type? What is your type?"
"That wasn't the agreement."
He sighed and closed his eyes. "You gave me little information. Just answer those two questions and I'll tell you."
Damn curiosity. "David was too...simple. I didn't have feelings towards him in the beginning because I always saw him as this nice guy with a simple life and a simple personality. He didn't like much, you know? He didn't like things too adventurous and he didn't like certain jokes because he was just too good. Too perfect, and I don't like perfection." It hurt to say all of it, but it was true. David was way too good for me in more ways than one.
I swear Matthew seemed pleased with my response.
"My type," I began, knowing this was about to bring down his mood some. "My type is rugged. Really manly men. I once had a thing for the Downy paper towel guy because he was just so manly. I like ripped jeans, stubble, messy hair, and dark bedroom eyes. That's my type." It's also the type that has screwed up my life a few times.
It was kind of funny to talk about my type with Matthew sitting next to me in an expensive tailored suit and tie with a smooth and flawless face as well as perfectly shaped hair. He was the exact opposite of my type, yet here I was with his engagement ring on my finger in his house. "...Interesting," he murmured, though I could almost hear the hint of disappointment.
"Now tell me your age."
Matthew moved carefully towards me, sitting several inches away from me. He looked me directly in the eyes with a serious expression painted on his face. "You have to swear to me that this conversation will never be repeated nor will you tell anyone this. Very few know of my true age."
My eyes widened and my curiosity grew. Every time I had asked him his age before he would tell me he was "really old" and say he didn't want to tell anyone his age because not knowing it was more intimidating. I braced myself for the answer to the question I've had since I first met him. How old is Matthew Foster? "I promise," I replied with my right hand raised for dramatics.
He scanned my face as if to look for something before actually speaking. "I was born in the year 1102."
I leaned forward, wondering if maybe I had blacked out and missed the first part of the date. Did he say 1102 or 1802? Because there's a pretty big difference there. "Huh?"
He knew I wasn't processing this well, so he tried to explain further. "I'm nine hundred and eight years old."
"Holy shit." The words just kind of spilled out. I was so far off, it was laughable. "I-I thought maybe you were two hundred, at least. Nine hundred? Like, nearly a thousand?"
His eyes roamed over my face again and again as if he were concerned I'd blow up and my brain would burst into chunks or something. "I said I was old, Anna."
"But not that old! You're older than America! You're older than, like, a lot of kings of England!"
"Yes, I am. Do you now understand my affection towards you?"
My brain was on overload as it was, but that threw me off even further. "Huh?"
Matthew's fingers began to wrap around my left hand, causing my arm to spread with goose bumps at his cool touch. He was about to get serious and touchy-feely again, making me extremely uncomfortable, as usual. "I have seen it all and experienced everything there is to experience. I've done the dark path, and I've done the path of good. I've been with many women in my existence, and none of them have made me feel half of what I feel with you."
"Err, Matthew," I began, wishing desperately he'd stop. I hate feelings, especially when someone is explaining theirs.
"I know, I know." His thumb ran across the back of my fingers. "You hate when people talk like this. Frankly, I've never been one to actually talk like this before. But I want you to hear this and understand before we say our vows. You have to know this isn't some sort of whim for me; you're not a fling."
I blinked at him, speechless for once. What was I supposed to say after that? None of the cliché romance movies covered anything like this.
Matthew leaned forward and brushed his lips over mine before planting a firm kiss right next to my eye. "You're quieter than I've ever seen you, it's concerning."
I swallowed loudly and tried to think past his hand holding mine under the covers. "You never said what happened to your third wife."
"Her name was Abigail. I married her in the 1700's and we lasted about three years. We hated each other towards the end, to the point of her trying to stake me in my sleep. Quite the firecracker, that one. Still is, I suppose."
"Still?"
He let out a long sigh. "She was a newly created vampire when I first met her. About ten years turned, I think. We married because we had a lot of attraction and passion towards one another, which was all lovely during the honeymoon faze. Since then she has been a nightmare, constantly trying to get money from me or pretend we're close enough for me to do favors for her. I haven't spoken to her in over a decade."
I nodded as if all of this was normal.
"What are you thinking about right now?"
As per usual, I said whatever was on my mind. "I was just wondering if you reuse the wedding bands each time."
Matthew gave me a disapproving look. "Of course not. Your fingers are bonier than theirs were." He flashed a teasing smile.
"Especially this one, huh?" I raised my right hand and stuck up my middle finger proudly.
Matthew chuckled and brought my left hand to his lips. "You're like an angry kitten sometimes."
"Fierce lion," I corrected as the chills crawled up my arm from his lips.
He rolled his eyes and began to sit up. "I should go. I need to finalize some plans for the honeymoon and the wedding reception."
My blood ran cold and a large lump formed in my throat. Honeymoon? Yes, I knew there would be one and all, but I guess I've just managed to push that out of my head until now. Matthew hasn't told me where it's supposed to be at anyway, so I haven't really thought of it at all.
Matthew stood up and pulled on his suit jacket, only to pause just as he had it partially on. His eyes met mine and there was this knowing look in his eyes I couldn't quite explain. He slowly pulled the jacket the rest of the way on and buttoned it properly. "I want you to know I'm not expecting anything our wedding night."
My brow shot up and my heart pounded a little harder. "Huh?"
He stepped towards my side of the bed and looked down at me with this wisdom old guys usually have in their eyes. Old, just like him. "I don't care if we just spend the night on the couch with a movie playing. My point is, I don't want to force you to do something you don't want to do."
I was close to stating how I didn't want to marry him, but I kept that to myself because I knew he was actually being a gentleman right now. I wasn't used to a gentleman. Hell, back in my days on the street, I about had to make someone bleed every night to keep them off and away from me. Here Matthew was, talking about our honeymoon, saying he basically didn't want to pressure me. "You will want to eventually," I replied with a sharpness in my voice. "People don't make deals to marry someone if they're not getting some."
Matthew's lips twitched at my rude remark. "Well, yes, sometime we will. But I'm patient and I don't want our first time to be something horrible for you. I'm willing to wait for you."
My eyes dropped from his because he was getting too heavy on the emotions again. This wasn't something I was used to. I don't do emotional speeches or gazing into one another's eyes or terms of endearment. That's not me. It will never be me.
"I'll see you tomorrow night. We'll have coffee together before you have your dress fitting." Matthew leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, a move I was growing used to. In fact, I actually tried this time when it came to kissing.
I don't know if it was Matthew being so nice or maybe I was on the brink of starvation with all of the salads, but I felt like I should at least try. I'm supposed to try, according to the contract. I am to give Matthew a chance, and give this marriage all I have. So, awkwardly, I placed my hand on his cheek and moved my lips against his briefly before pulling away.
Matthew's lips, slightly red from my lipstick, pulled to one side and he quickly pressed them to my forehead. "Get some rest."
With that, Matthew walked right out of the room, leaving me with a lot to think about.