Lily's POV
As I stood in front of the mirror, the dress shimmering against my skin, I could feel the weight of the dress on my shoulders, the sequins and lace pressing into my skin like tiny shards of glass. I felt trapped, suffocated, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as I fought to keep myself together.
This wasn't me. This wasn't my life. I was supposed to be with my mother, pursuing my dreams, not playing some caricature of a happy bride. But that had all been taken from me when I was forced to take this decision, when my autonomy and my voice were stripped away.
I knew I couldn't stay here and so, as I stood there, smoothing out the fabric of the gown, I made a decision, whatever chance I got to get out of this place...I would grab it with everything inside of me.
I had already put the dress on but I was struggling with the zipper, I wriggled and twisted, trying to grasp the zipper of the dress in my fingers, but it was no use. The dress was too tight, the zipper too high up my back for me to reach.
I cursed under my breath, panic beginning to rise in my chest as I realized that I was running out of time. And then, an idea struck me, like a bolt of lightning.
I grabbed a scarf from the closet, wrapping it around my hand, and used it to tug at the zipper, the fabric bunching up in my fist as I pulled with all my might. I was so focused on my task that I didn't hear Chris approach, didn't notice the creak of the door as it opened, the soft padding of his footsteps on the carpet.
And then, his hands were on my back, his fingers brushing against my skin as he slid the zipper up with a slow, deliberate movement.
I stiffened at his touch, my body going rigid with tension as I struggled to keep myself under control.
"There," he murmured, his breath hot against my neck as he smoothed the fabric of the dress over my shoulders.
His voice was low and insistent, his fingers still lingering on my shoulders as he spoke. "Why do you look so scared? Just because I'm your pretend husband doesn't mean I can't help you zip your dress....watching you struggle was hurting my eyes...you were looking so helpless,"
What the hell did he just say?! Was he....watching me?!!
"Select out other outfits," he ordered, his eyes boring into mine in the mirror. "We'll be taking a lot of pictures today. And I want us to look perfect in every single one of them."
I nodded, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead as I turned to face him, my eyes downcast as I tried to hide the fear that was bubbling up inside me.
"Yes, I will," I whispered, my voice barely audible as I stepped away from him.
"Lily relax I'm not going to eat you," he rolled his eyes with a very unnoticeable smile on his face as he began to undress.
His strong, muscular body coming into view, I found myself unable to look away. He was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen. His dark hair was swept back from his face, his chiseled jawline and piercing blue eyes lending him an air of raw masculinity that was almost overwhelming. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, my eyes taking in the sight of him, my mind reeling as I struggled to process the sheer intensity of his presence.
I watched, mesmerized, as he stripped off his shirt, his toned abs and powerful arms flexing as he moved, the fabric falling to the floor at his feet.
His fingers moved to the button of his pants, his hands deftly undoing the fastenings with a single motion, the pants sliding down his legs to pool at his feet.
As his pants dropped to the floor, the last vestiges of my resistance crumbled away, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks.
Why...how am I standing here staring...why did he have complete and utter control over me. Turn Lily turn! I yelled at myself and so, with a deep breath, I turned away, my eyes fixed on the window as I struggled to maintain my composure.
"You were staring," he said emotionless. "Why were you staring? Why did you look away?" He showered me with questions.
"I....Im sorry....I....I didn't know you were going to change too," I said without looking back.
"You should have told me to excuse you," I told him.
"Why? You didn't tell me to excuse you, I made that decision myself so why should I tell you...if you don't want to leave you can stay....if I didn't want to leave I could have stayed too and you and I both know there was nothing you could do about that situation," his voice rang in my ears.
"I...I'll excuse you now," I stuttered as I walked out of the room embarrassed. I descended the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. I knew I had no choice but to follow the script that had been laid out for me. I was expected to play the part of a doting wife, to smile and laugh and act as if this were all a grand, romantic adventure.
But inside, I was raging, my heart beating fast with anger and defiance. I felt like a puppet on a string, forced to dance to a tune that wasn't my own. And yet, I knew that any show of defiance would only make things worse.
I stood at the bottom of the stairs, as I waited, my gaze drifted to the photographers, they had already set everything up, their cameras flashing and clicking as they waited for the show to begin. I could feel their eyes on me, scrutinizing every inch of my appearance, searching for any sign of imperfection.
And then, finally, I saw him. My eyes drifted over his form, taking in his broad shoulders and chiseled jawline, the muscles of his arms and chest bulging beneath the fabric of his shirt. My cheeks heated up when I remembered how he took of his shirt. Put yourself together Lily..I whispered to myself.
He was handsome, yes, but that was all he was to me. A good-looking stranger that I had been forced to marry, a man who I knew nothing about beyond his name and his family's wealth.
"You're staring again," he said, his voice cold and commanding as he looked down at me. "Don't you know it's impolite to stare?"
I dropped my gaze, feeling a flush of embarrassment at his rebuke. But inside, I was seething, my anger growing with each passing second. How dare he treat me like this? How dare he act as if I were the one in the wrong?
But I knew better than to voice my defiance. Instead, I forced a weak smile, my eyes trained on the floor as I waited for the photographers to begin. I sighed inwardly...there was no way out of this.