Delia shakes, the gun incident flashing through her mind as he drags her out of sight.

“You don’t get to run away.” His menacing tone causes her to whimper—but it’s so soft there’s no way anyone would hear it. “When Boss finds out that you were sneaking around, you’re gonna be in real shit, princess.”

Minutes feel like hours as he holds her in silence. What was the man waiting for?! He couldn’t hold her in the nook of this hallway forever—someone would notice her disappearance.

Eventually, he lets go, “Now behave yourself, and no running off—you hear? Or I won’t hesitate to snap your neck.” Delia drops to her knees, scrambling to get up. She hurries to the main room but collides into an unfortunate body.

Delia lets out a scream, but immediately backtracks when she sees it’s her befuddled fiancé.

“Where the hell were you?” Theo scolds her, the roughness of his voice springs tears in Delia’s eyes.

“Delius knew something was up! Don’t blame me for it! I had to get out of there.” She turns around as the tears begin to fall. “I’m trying my best here!”

“…Sorry.” He says, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to get short.”

“It’s not you—its this whole thing!” She can’t help herself…the tears just kept coming.

“The party isn’t until tonight anyway—so follow me.” He leads Delia from the hallway, she's too puffy-eyed to notice what's around her. He opens a door, leading her into a room with matching red décor. She doesn’t notice much except that there are two cat carvings on his desk—one unfinished. He encourages her to sit on the bed; it's softer than she expects. He hands her a box of tissues.

“One of the bodyguards held me against a wall…he thought I was trying to run away.” She whispers, her voice shaky. Her lips start to quiver as she feels an overwhelming sense of dizziness hit her. “I-if we don’t get that island for them, we're going to be f-f-fucked—”

Theo stiffens, his demeanour turns serious. “Who attacked you?”

“Don’t go after him—he said he wouldn’t hesitate to snap my neck if I told anyone.” She manages to speak clearly before sobbing.

“I can’t believe these bastards would dare to harm you in my own house.” His growl is strong. “You’re not leaving my sight until we can shake them off for good…I’ll force my grandfather’s hand—he’ll have no choice but to buy us that island,” Theo says in an attempt to reassure her, but she can't hear his words.

“I’m going to die because I’m broke…I-I'm going to die and my own family won’t realize it until it’s too late—” She clutches her chest as her breathing becomes irregular, “you’re going to be fine but I’m going to die—”

Theo says nothing, rubbing his hand in a circular motion onto her back. She feels it but doesn’t register it's him. Her thoughts are her own worst enemy. After a few minutes, she’s able to calm herself.

“We won’t be under the tyranny of these dicks for much longer,” Theo mutters.

“What if your grandfather refuses?”

“I have to tell him why we need it. It'll take too long to do it his way.”

“That’s too dangerous!” Panic wells up in her chest.  

“We have little options.” Theo doesn’t raise his voice at her. “I’ll do what must be done. As long as that group gets their stupid island, we should be off the hook. We’ve got two days before we leave the manor.”

He’s right. It calms her further to know that she’s not alone in this. “But I still have to get married.” Delia flops on the back of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “My grandmother’s counting on the money.”

“One thing at a time, right?”

“Yeah.” She closes her eyes, “I’m supposed to play the part of a love-struck fiancée in a house where our enemy constantly has their eyes on us. It’s exhausting.”

“I feel that.” Theo sighs.

“I guess you aren’t so bad.” Delia manages to say. “I feel safe when I'm with you, so that must count for something.” Theo looks taken aback; she doesn’t see his crimson-stained cheeks. “Although, you probably think that my only perk is that I look good in your sweaters.” Theo sucks in his breath. His silence is confirmation, but it makes her laugh weakly.

“I wouldn’t say that's it.” Theo’s voice strains in awkwardness.

“I didn’t mind. It was nice that you found me appealing in some way.” He's right, she recalls last night's conversation too. She was attractive enough to sleep with, in his opinion, and he wasn’t anything to sneeze at either—but, looks weren’t everything. They didn’t know anything about each other.

“I told you if I didn’t find you pretty that I wouldn’t have agreed to the marriage.”

“Then why did you agree in the first place?”

“To get Thea out of a bind. I mean you’re marrying me to get your family out of debt, yeah?”

She nods, “I’d like for us to get along too you know—maybe we could find happiness together. If it wasn’t for the added stress of those hitmen.”

“That does put a damper in things.” Theo turns to look at her. “But, that’d be nice. Before you get your hopes up, I’m no romantic. I’m not gonna be singing to you over supper or bring you flowers every morning.”

Delia smiles weakly, “I don’t need you to.”

“What do you want, then?” 

“Someone who accepts me for me, you know?”

Theo pauses, contemplating his answer. “That’s a tall order—you’re pretty weird.”

That’s what he has to say?! Delia’s eyes flare, “Excuse you, Mr. I-Drown-My-Food-In-Pepper.”

“Don’t think I’ll change my mind with that because I won’t. I love pepper.”

“I can see that.” Delia sighs. She lifts herself off of the bed, looking around his room. Her gaze settles on the wooden cats on the desk. “Those your wood carvings?”  

“Yes.”

It was about time the conversation drifted elsewhere.

Like Theo promised, he didn’t let Delia out of his sight. They spent the following hours discussing their hobbies and quips about their lives. She had no idea Theo was patient enough to carve wooden sculptures, or that his dream animal was a Persian cat—or that he played the Blacksmith class every time in video games. She thought of him to be a strict person, but no, he was a quiet man. Still irritating, but that was expected of someone with such a blunt nature. The real question remained; could she learn to love someone like him? Whether she did or not didn’t matter at this moment. With dinner finished and all of Milo’s guests here at the manor, it was time to immerse herself in the role. Everyone arrived, expecting a loving couple to fawn over.

It’s their job to become that couple.

The smell of lavender perfumed the air and the atmosphere was alive with the chatter of dozens of happy guests. The finger foods were a work of art, elegantly placed by those who knew what they were doing. It was impossible for Delia to be tempted not to take a bite—but it was easy when presented with her current circumstance. They were passed around like an object—people reaching out to them touching their hands, shoulders, or kissing Delia’s hand. It was gross—but she endured. Delia did most—if not all of the talking—the knowledge of romance movies being her greatest crutch, the crowd eating it up. One couple commented that the blush of newness was obvious on Delia’s cheeks—and how nice it must have been to harbour such love for each other. Delia’s mastery in bullshit was unfounded—and appreciated by her, and Theo. Her biggest success story was how Theo proposed so quickly and spontaneously that he wasn’t prepared with a ring to propose with. She was intercepted a couple of times by Thea—begging for Delia to hide her from Thorne, but that wasn’t a problem she was ready to tackle. To be frank, she was still bitter that Thea was able to back out of her engagement, so she could afford to suffer at the annoyance of her brother. It was her tiny solace for tonight. 

A soft jazz ballad plays from the speakers above them. Delia hadn’t noticed that there were any until the music started playing. She sees the crowd around them partner up—readying to dance with each other. She glances at Theo—who reads her mind word for word. But expectant eyes would notice the oddity of a newly engaged couple refusing the opportunity to get close—so Delia makes the first move. She places her hand on Theo’s waist, moving so close that her chest presses against his torso. The contact sends an electric charge through her stomach. He notices it too, as he can’t bring himself to look at her, but he didn’t need to. As long as he moves with her, it should be fine.

“Relax a little, or you’re going to give us away,” Delia says in a hushed tone.

“I can’t with you so close—back up a little.”

“Relax and put your arm on my shoulder.”

Theo lets out a frustrated sigh, however, does what is asked of him. God knows how many eyes are on them. “I don’t need your boobs smooshed against my stomach.”

“Oh my god, they aren’t!” Delia says with annoyance. “Besides it can’t be helped—a loving partner wouldn’t complain about such things—so keep those comments to yourself.”

Theo grumbles something inaudible but he doesn’t raise any more complaints. Where was the Theo that calmed her down after her panic attack? She wants him back.

Delia glances around the room—both relieved and worried that she didn’t see that bodyguard man who jumped her. Did he go back to base to report what he’s done? If he did—would the others think that Delia had defaulted? She can’t risk that. No—she can’t afford to think of that now. This is a moment that she’s supposed to enjoy—or at least—pretend that she enjoys this. She rests her head on his chest, hearing his quickened heartbeat. It’s soothing—even if he’s going to complain about it later. She closes her eyes, allowing her mind to get lost within the rhythm of the music. This is a nice moment—she was in desperate need of one. Could this last, even five more minutes? She would be forever grateful if it could. No kidnappers, no arranged marriages, just peace.

Peace is all she needs.

The hall grows quiet as Delia opens her eyes. Milo waves his hands in the air.

“He’s going to be an imbecile, isn’t he?” Theo whispers under his breath.

“Why do you say that?” Delia whispers back.

“He’s a thick-headed man with a lot of money, he’s going to do something stupid. It’s the law.”

“That hardly means anything—” she gets cut off by Milo’s speech:

“Ladies, Gentleman. Welcome to my bi-weekly shindig. As you all know, I have thrown this lovely get together in honour of my grandson Theodore’s engagement to the lovely Cordelia—no, not this lovely maiden—her granddaughter over there!” He points to them—his guests’ eyes follow.  “They have met in the most unusual of circumstances and have found love within moments of meeting each other—so much so that they have planned to elope. My gift to these two lovely young people is a celebration with both of our families and friends.”

“God, please tell me he’s not going to—” she sees Theo mouth.

“We have decided to hold the union—here—in front of you all! C’mon up you two!”

“Fucking idiot…” Theo curses, as Delia’s mouth gapes.

Did Milo mean for them to get married?

Right now?!