CHAPTER 3.
Sheila.
I was getting married to Dylan Knight.
It came to me as a shock, considering the fact that I didn't sign the document when I left my father's house the day before yesterday.
But just now, I received a text message from Dylan Knight. It said:
"Good day Sheila. I'm happy you finally changed your mind about this. Today will be our first public appearance together and I will send you a dress to wear for the ball tonight. I'll pick you up at 10pm. Be ready. –Dylan Knight."
I read and reread the message, sure I wasn't the recipient of the message. But what are the chances that he had more than one Sheila saved on his phone and he sent this to the wrong Sheila?
I sighed and decided to wait. It might be a mistake, I was desperately praying for it to be a mistake.
Because if the package gets delivered here, then that means either my father forged my signature or they decided to go along with him without my consent. None of which was acceptable.
Nora glanced at me from the corner of her eye to make sure I was okay. She was aware of the fact that my father had attempted to arrange a marriage for me.
When I told her it was Dylan Knight, she looked appalled but all she said was that I should look him up. She refused to say anything after that, no matter how much I bugged her about it. I didn't remember her words until I got home last night, and that was when I understood the look in her eyes.
Exactly 5 pm, a delivery came in for me and that was when it sunk in that Dylan didn't make a mistake. Fueled with rage, I called my father but his line wasn't reachable. I tried his office line but he wasn't at work either.
I closed my store by 6 and went home, my stomach churning as the minutes flew past. I continued trying my father's cell but it always went straight to voicemail.
By 9:30, Dylan's text came in to let me know that he was on his way and I still hadn't made up my mind if I was going to the ball or not.
I pulled open the package he had sent earlier and the dress took my breath away. It was an emerald green dress with a sweetheart neckline and drooping sleeves. There was a note inside the box that said, "I saw this and was reminded of your eyes."
I put a hand on my mouth to stifle the gasp that escaped from my lips. Tears sprang to my eyes at how romantic he was. Until I remembered that he did this so often he was already used to it.
Dropping the note to the floor, I opened the next box and saw silver strappy heels. Moving on to the next was a silver choker necklace and bracelet, with a pair of earrings.
Deciding that he put too much effort into picking these for me, I decided to wear them. I'll deal with my father tomorrow.
I had barely gotten dressed when I heard the doorbell ring. I almost fainted when I looked through the peephole and saw Dylan standing in front of my door with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
I made my way back into the bedroom and shouted, "Coming." He would wait out there until I was done. Part of me was praying he would get bored and leave while another part wanted him to wait. I guess we'll see which part will win.
The doorbell didn't ring after I responded that I was coming about thirty minutes before I actually opened the door. Imagine my surprise when I saw him there, holding the bouquet as he waited patiently.
He smiled and handed the flowers to me. "Were you wishing I had already left?" He asked as he took in my sighed expression.
I rolled my eyes and collected the flowers, throwing them on my couch as I picked up my clutch, locking the door behind me and followed him to his car.
My eyes widened when I saw the vehicle he brought with him. A limousine. A freaking limousine.
He opened the door for me like a gentleman again and I was already afraid for my poor heart that would soon be trampled upon, because it was already beating loudly.
The partition was drawn between us and the driver and I watched him in silence as he poured two flutes of champagne and handed me one.
"Thanks," I told him as I reached forward to take the glass from his hands. Our fingers brushed and I couldn't ignore the spark that shot through me.
I looked at him in shock and his eyes were already on me, gazing at me intensely. I blushed and focused on my drink, trying to hide the way his touch affected me.
"So, nice apartment." I knew he was trying to diffuse the tension in the air and I was grateful.
"Thank you." I took a moment to sip my champagne and relax. This was the first night out I was taking ever since I moved out of my parents' house and I intended to enjoy it as much as I could.
Tomorrow, I'll deal with my father. It took me a minute to notice that Dylan's eyes were still on me and I nervously smiled before turning my attention back to my flute. At this rate, I'll finish my drink in less than a minute.
"You look gorgeous," he said after a while. That took me back to the note he left in the box for me.
"Do you always say that to the girls you shop for?" I asked, my curiosity overcoming my nervousness.
"Say what?" He replied.
"The thing about the dress reminding you of my eyes," I told him as he held my gaze.
He looked at me, doing that thing with his eyes where he's staring and thinking. It's an intimidating look but I like the fact that he thinks before he talks.
"Considering the fact that you're the only lady I've ever shopped for, besides my grandma, I'd say yes."
That confused me. "But…" I stopped, not knowing if my words would offend him.
"Say what's on your mind, Sheila." That was the first time he called me by my name and his deep husky voice seemed to reverberate over my entire body. I wanted him to say my name again. I really was in trouble.
Annoyed by the effect of his voice on me and the fact that it was affecting me more than I wanted it to, I blurted out exactly what was on my mind without munching words. "But you're a man whore."
I expected him to frown or try to rebuff my statement but he smiled instead and I caught sight of his dimples. How did I not notice it before?
"I see you've looked me up. As much as I want to tell you that I'm a saint, I'll be lying. Everything about me on the internet is true but that didn't mean I dated them."
That stuck to my mind. That doesn't mean I dated them.
"So what? You just slept with them? Like one night stands?" I scoffed.
But he nodded. He was serious.
"Listen to me, Sheila." My heart did that funny dance again. "I have never dated, ever. The same way I have never fucked the same girl twice. I have never taken a girl on a date either; or to a ball or charity event. You're the first."
At this point, my heart that had been doing subtle leaps earlier started a full somersault.
I tried to take my attention away from his words but it was imprinted in my memory. You are the first. I was already feeling sorry for myself because by the end of the night, I'm sure I'll be falling head over heels for him.
The limousine stopped and Dylan stepped out first, extending a hand to help me down.
"Let's give these vultures something to talk about for a long time," I winked at him as we made our way to the red carpet and the dazzling smile he gave to me was brighter than the cameras flashing at us.
I made up my mind then. If I was really his first date, then I would make sure it was the best date ever for him. I was still going to stop this arranged marriage as I would never allow my father to win, but until then.
"Dylan," a female called out just as we made our way off the red carpet. She launched herself into his arms and smacked her lips right on top of his.
I froze as I took in the scene. Dylan also froze for a few seconds and when he finally untangled himself from her, his lips were smeared from her lipstick.
I don't know why my heart broke at that moment. Dylan and I were nothing, but as my logic and my heart fought, my heart won and I turned and fled back to the limousine, tears gushing from my eyes.
"Sheila," I heard Dylan calling my name and it took me a moment to realize that the butterflies his voice evoked in my belly had become scorpions.