In the streaming sunlight, he stood.
Standing against the towering glass windows in a white towel tucked around his waist.
His biceps flexed over his torso as he drenched droplets of water that ran down his healing bruises with a medium-sized white towel.
My mouth watered at his defined muscles, well-sculptured abdomen, and the cherry flavor floating from his recent shampoo.
Seeing him almost in nothing was the first time this week since he made sure we didn't cross paths for the past few days.
He appeared at past midnight for his naps and disappeared at past midday in a continuous circle for the whole of last week.
It wasn't decent to abandon one's guest in a strange neighborhood, but Dwain Horton did an added surplus and was always moody and nasty when confronted about it.
Tied up in a four-wall condo this long with nothing enthusiastic to do in the epitome of boredom, most days; I took a long stress-relieving bath, held my hair in a high ponytail, didn't wear makeup, and flung a sundress over my head.
One which matched the highest heels in my closet and complimented my deception.
Some virtues that urged me to be above the world and look at the happenings from another perspective didn't fail to overpower me.
With the blink of an eyebrow and a shift in eye focus from my thoughts to my husband, or better still, my roommate, his baby hair ran to his cut brows, brushing his eyes in soft and curling spirals.
His rhyming movements paused at the instant his sea-blue eyes caught up with mine, taking a graceful glance at me.
This was his first eye contact with me in the span of a few days after our traumatic argument.
I couldn't dare to hold those eyes which were void of any emotion in mine.
I wished for one thing whenever Dwain was around; a time machine that could bring me back to my normal life, one which seemed promising no matter the stakes.
"We are going out."
His voice was stern.
His lips hardened into a thin line as his eyes swirled to his last activity.
Finally, he addressed me.
What took him so long to talk to me?
I'd waited for numerous days for him to say something to me, but he didn't.
In a quest to trap the expression on his face, my sight wandered to his tanned skin.
Did he realize the extent to which his silence broke me on many levels?
Did he take note of my heavy eyes?
"Instead of staring at me, get dressed, and save time." He walked out of me and retired to his closet. "You have to accompany me."
I placed my feet on the rug, slid into my flip-flops, and covered my exposed arms with my bathrobe.
My throat went dry real fast, no words on my tongue.
Yet, weird noises escaped my throat and liberated a handful of thought-out words. . . shaking ones.
"Where to? I. . . I should know right?"
He was yet to respond to my questions when his muscles flexed at the closeness of his white shirt to his torso as he choked his broad shoulders and bulging arms with the fabric.
"We are going where there is money, fame, and a bunch of socialites, " he said after a while, then scrunched his knee to the rug, and laced up his shiny black polished leather shoes.
"Wear something of class. I will pick you up at quarter past. . ." he stole a glance at his wristwatch and stood on his feet, "four."
Then, he fixed a blue bowtie around his neck and snatched a blue jacket from a hanger.
Halting at the door, he twirled on his heels. "Be on time, " he cocked a brow at me and straighten his blue pants while walking out of me.
He had given me just fifteen minutes to get dressed.
How was it possible?
Dwain's footsteps echoed at the door after five in the evening and I stood on my silver heels, flipping my voluminous hair to my back, exposing the little diamonds he'd gifted me the night of the family brunch.
Down to my back, my gown was open, also, my shoulders were exposed, and the border of the thin lace fabric fitted a little above my cleavage.
I'd picked a cream-white mermaid gown that hugged my knees together.
With a throat noise, he made his entry. "Let's go."
With him at the wheel and I by his side, we rode in his newest Mercedes Benz as a pin-dropping silence hunched in between us.
Why did he show up late?
Didn't he say he will show up at quarter past four?
I rolled my eyes to the dark windows of the car and watched things pass by in a blur, getting lost in my thoughts.
The weekend saga had brought a cell of solitude, a frustrating silence amongst us ever since we last spoke as civil humans.
We lived as strangers who crossed each other's path in solitude, staring in opposite directions, being scared that; one of us might trample on the other's ego.
This situation was a burden.
I woke up every morning to guilt suffocating me in the early hours of the morning since Dwain made it a habit to isolate and abandon me.
Being abandoned to one's self wasn't a situation that I could overcome every day, especially when it felt like a stick was stocked at my throat, threatening to last forever.
Dwain had begun acting like my parents, drilling more holes in my heart and my self-esteem.
Although wet pillows, hunted nights, crazy mood swings plus horrible mental cramps took over my days, I craved for a sea of joy to swallow me, and take me out of such struggle; a struggle which had nothing to do with me but all to do with Elizabeth, the person who looked like me, and who also put me in this situation.
I couldn't blame everything on her anymore, because this situation was partly my fault.
"YOU CAN TAKE YOUR arrogance and your pride in there, 'cause I won't move a muscle unless. . ."
I held a finger at him and sucked in my breath. "Listen to me. . . unless you tell me exactly what's going on and why the heck are we on the other side of a castle in the middle of the evening, waiting for its gates to open?!"
I crossed my arms at my chest and moved my eyes from him.
Did he for a second think of me as some dog that he could drag around with no concrete reason, stupidly obeying him when he couldn't even address me properly?
"C'mon, hold your peace, and let me get some business done." He pressed hard on a few nerves which popped on his forehead. "You like it when I'm mad at you, huh? Now shut that mouth up and let's get inside. . . It's just business."
"It's just business. What else could it be?" I heaved a sigh and fixed the falling straps of my little pouch around my shoulders."Businesses and silence are your best hobbies."
"Of course," he hissed. "Just shut up."
I heaved a sigh. "Whatever!"
He ignored me and pulled the brakes of the car, speeding through the lights of the castle gates which opened up at us.
We drove by an array of fountains, multiple tall trees, and hanging flower gardens, and came to a stop inches from fireworks going on in front of a colorful entrance.
The castle's lawn was over the top and multiple expensive cars came to light as Dwain helped me out of the car.
How wouldn't he act gentlemanly when all eyes were prying on us?
"Tonight, I will meet the man behind this whole Japanese deal, and fun fact, he's American. So. . ."
He held my arm and interlocked it in his, a gorgeous smile playing on his face as he held out a finger from his next hand at my lip and moved it to brush over my nose.
"It's tonight or never to prove those tabloid rumors false, or I will lose the deal. My family and anyone else investing in our company will go bankrupt, losing to their last coins if I mess up."
"What do you want of me?"
My voice shivered under my breath as his thumb ran up and down my jawbone, his lips twitching into a smile.
Why did his touch cause trembles to run down my spine?
How could his fingers be this teasing?
I couldn't be enjoying it, dammit.
I closed my eyes at once but opened them again to see his eyes boring into mine, although his fingers had long lost contact with my face.
"Be my wife, act like a Horton, and make him believe our wedding. Smile at any question which looks personal and stay silent when not given the floor to speak. . . If you can do all of this, then we should be free from each other sooner than six months." He lowered his lips to my ear. "We can't ruin this, it's our last chance."
"But. . ."
He placed two fingers on my lips.
"Mr. Hamilton won't appreciate late coming. It's his wedding anniversary and we must meet him before he changes his mind. C'mon, let's get in."
He fastened his grip on my arm and walked me through the crowded entrance.
Everything about meeting Mr. Hamilton had to be successful.
If it went well, Elizabeth and I would forever be free from this fiasco.
This was good news after a long trend of happenings and I couldn't wait to be free from this contract marriage.
Dwain met with a handful of socialites and advertised his company at any little occasion he had, and thankfully most of them gave promising responses.
He used his popularity to make more connections, while I stood by him like a stick, smiling and sipping a none alcoholic beverage.
How did these rich people cope with each other?
Some were so boastful and disgusting.
"It's a foreign call, so ladies and gentlemen, you will have to accord me some minutes."
Minutes after that call, Dwain got interrupted by another phone call and he withdrew himself from our little crowd, letting a quick kiss fade on my cheeks.
Other businessmen raised their glasses at him and returned to their steamy conversations.
From my little time with them, I realized that most business people had many things in common.
Little things like putting their businesses first before family, because they had some unique vision that no ordinary person could see.
The goal was to make it to the top no matter the circumstances.
Some said there was wisdom in taking multiple risks even when failures might be the outcome of one's choices.
The older guys said it was important to make it to the finish line even at one's lowest, endlessly aiming for success no matter the pitfalls, and low self-esteem.
These wise sayings got me thinking.
Why did I accept engineering when medicine was my vision?
One tiny failure had taken me into a never-ending spiral of depression.
I kept listening as they spoke about perseverance and not quitting at the slightest failure while holding their glasses up for a toast.
A headache threatened my nerves and I sat at a nearby counter.
The interior of the castle flared with popularity, style, and colorful ancient Greece pre-colonial designs.
It was beautiful with its hanging flowers and high ceilings.
It had portraits stationed at strategic angles on the wall which looked like those at the cafe back in Belgium.
At that thought, a ghost's smile played on my lips, and the craving to sink a bite into Belgian fries overpowered me.
Lowering my head to sip more fruit juice from my straw, I spun in my seat, and my eyes lifted a little in search of Dwain, but instead, I locked eyes with Mr. Donovan who wouldn't stop harassing beautiful women.
To his right, a glowing beauty clung to his arm, and to the left, a blonde beauty had her arm sandwiched in his.
The ladies were dressed to kill in pointed black heels and satin royal blue mini gowns, not forgetting the large quantity of makeup they wore.
"We meet again."
He released his arms from them and shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets.
My initial plans stood ground on ignoring him, but when he dismissed the ladies and made himself comfortable at an arm's length from me, my patience slipped out.
"It's often said and retorted times without number that the world is something small. We meet again, more satisfying to know that you carried your charm somewhere else Mr. Donovan."
I pulled my lips into a not-so-satisfying smile, sipping a double quantity of my drink.
His lips slanted weirdly, while his fingers kneaded through his well-trimmed hair.
His locks of hair were pushed to the side and his brown jacket laid loose around his neck while his fragrance was a thousand apples.
He must have spent a real bunch of dollars to keep his fitness and grooming this plausible.
"Sad isn't it? To all the girls I have loved before, my being can say no to them if it takes only a no to have you in my life." He warmed his hands in a rough rub and split his lips to aim his cute dental formula at my face. Then, with slow fingerwork, he circled the brim of his whiskey glass, " I can pay a fortune if it takes a fortune to have you to myself."
"Take your flattering somewhere else if you don't want my husband to deprive you of your third foot."
I hissed, giving him hints of my irritation towards his ridiculous advances. "By the way, what are you doing here?"
I shifted my eyes from him and kept them low on my drink.
The fact that this man had his eyes on my face, investing hard into charming me, could only spark giggles in my subconscious.
It brought time back to when my beauty wasn't a thing that got pointed out by anyone, not to mention the fact that boys of my high school and my next-door neighbors didn't show interest in me; introverted potato, that's how I was referred to.
Funny enough, my parents referred to me as a shapeless potato.
Times changed very fast with my stupid valentine's day wish.
"I got invited by a friend who works for. . . " his fingers graced my shoulders, "are you even listening?"
His touch on my shoulder pulled me out of my reverie, sending cold chills down my spine.
He must have laughed about my daydreaming character.
I gulped. "Something crossed my mind, but now I'm good, go on."
Rounding up with our conversation, music played in the background.
Men swept their lady's arms to the dance floor and danced hand in hand.
The gentility of the classic brought a trend of memories and infinite conflict that reminded me of my dream of doing medicine.
This classic music was used in the early centuries for most of their complex surgeries.
"Would you like to have this dance with me?"
He stood on his feet and stretched a hand to me while the other fumbled in buttoning his jacket.
"Maybe some other time." I dropped my glass on the counter and stepped onto the tiles with my heel. "I need to search for my husband."
"Wait," he caught my arm and spun me around to fall in his arms.
My hands were against his chest.
"Is everything okay?"
His eyes questioned mine.
"Yes."
I yanked myself from his warmth but he managed to seize my hand in a firm grip.
"He doesn't make you happy. Does he?"
"It's none of your business."
"Know that most women left him for the same reason, including the one before you. So free yourself from him before it's too late. I will be waiting for your call."
He placed a card on the counter and smiled at me, "think about my proposal."
Then he walked out of the castle.
Including the one before you.
Those words played in my mind even as the guy had taken his leave.
My hand circled my wrist, lessening the throb as I stared into space, a couple of things assaulting me.
This man was gone but his words stole my peace of mind, and I needed answers.
The lady in the picture, did she reject Dwain because of the same reason?
Was the reason related to Dwain's pride and prejudice?
Or was it because of Edward's death?
If not for these reasons, then what was the reason?
Was it related to how he treated Elizabeth?
Did he treat all his girls wickedly?
How could I be sure that Mr. Donovan didn't make stuff up to win me to himself?
Holding my pouch tight and spinning on my heel to walk in the opposite direction, my eyes fell on Dwain.
His hands were tucked in his pants pocket and a frown played on his brows.
His expression hardened the more he spent time staring at my face.
Gosh, did he see me with Mr. Donovan?
My heart pounded in my chest and my lower lip trembled at how he might react if my guess was right.
"I was waiting for you, " he said in an iced tone and plopped his backside on a stool at the counter.
He asked for a glass of whiskey and gulped all of it in one sitting.
"You forgot the visit card." He held it out to me but I didn't move an inch nor did I have words to say as guilt cramped my bones. "Consider his proposal."
"Mr. Horton, finally I see you."
We both snapped out of the tension between us and raised our eyes to the third party who had soon joined us.
A white-bearded man in an expensive Armani suit and a bunch of bodyguards at arm's length on each side.
His smile broke through his glass of whiskey, amusement lighting his mood and making him look younger than many men in our vicinity.
"I had eyes looking out for you but none reported your presence. At one moment, I thought you didn't show up. Now that you are here, let's talk business."
He collected a black suitcase from one of his men, let it rest on the counter, and asked for a privacy panel to be activated which enclosed us at the bar, putting the others out of earshot.
Dwain held the man's extended hand in a firm handshake and the man nodded his head. "Thanks for receiving me."
"It's not a big deal, " the man said and sat down on one of the stools. "It's made clear in newspapers that your company has been losing value lately and you stand no funds for backup, hence, you sorely rely on our deal to keep you on your feet."
Dwain went silent but kept looking into the man's eyes.
"We can't trust our deal into the hands of an irresponsible CEO that's why it's stated in the contract that, the head of the company must be married, a social standard that proves how responsible he or she is. A bullet in my heart was how I received the news regarding your fake wedding, something I didn't expect from Edward's bloodline."
It took time for Dwain's lips to move and from the look of things, he was stranded.
I interrupted.
"Sir, I plead to explain. I can clarify the mix-up and assure you that the rumor is false. Give us one last chance."
"Elisabeth, stay out of this. It's my place to fix."
"Letting your wife speak for your company's interest will be excellent. Let's hear her out first, then you can add lacking bits. I believe that, what a man can do, a woman can do better, I might quote my wife as an example if we get a little spare time but for now, woman, the floor is all yours."
"Thank you, sir."
I glanced at Dwain for approval but disapproval screamed in his facial expressions.
His hand supported his head while his fingers drummed gently at the counter.
I cleared my throat and didn't flicker an eye from the man staring straight into my soul.
"As I said before, the rumor is false."