<If idiots could fly, this place could be an airport>

|Jadesola|

Sunday, July 18, 2021

A 24 carat, gold ring sat perfectly on my finger. Bold and glittering as a result of the sun's meek rays, it attested to the fact that I wasn't Miss Anyalewechi anymore. I bore the surname Fields now.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Nodding absently, I glanced at my mother. "Expensive too."

We stood on the furnished terrace, in a secluded part of Chicago's regional airport, looking over the hustle and bustle of the plane officials as they ensured everything was in good working conditions. My luggages squatted beside me, the wintry breeze quite strong, it nearly knocked off my puffer jacket.

"I'm so happy for you, omo mi and I'm sure your grandfather will be so proud as well." Mom drew closer, her hands on my shoulders. Her brown eyes shone with unshed tears.

She was seeing us off on what she presumed was our honeymoon rendezvous. As if. The main reason we were traveling to Paris a day after our wedding was because Kian had a deal with an Italian man. So I'd coined up this opportunity to further press the claim that we were truly in love.

Despite the intense sadness rolling within my chest, at my hypocrisy, I managed to crack a grin. "I'm happy I got married to the love of my life too. Remember, don't tell anyone about our wedding. We don't want the public's eyes on us every time. Once Kian and I are back, we will be doing the announcement ourselves."

Bullshit. Our intention was to have a quiet divorce once we achieved our aim, aka, my grandfather had added Mother to his will.

"Of course, dear." She cupped my cheeks in a fond manner and bent forward to kiss my forehead. "Make lots of grandbabies for Mummy."

Shaking my head yes, I blushed outwards while inwards I grimaced, bitter. Yeah that won't be happening anytime soon. Or anytime ever.

Kian strode towards our direction, long legs swallowing the distance between us. His gray slacks and white shirt billowed in the wind, the morning breeze ruffling his dark blonde hair. Tussled as it was, it drew attraction to the man's stupidly handsome features, hooded blue eyes and clean shaven jaw. A face I hated.

"We're almost ready to go," he said upon reaching us.

Leaning forward, Kian placed a small peck on my cheek, his cologne, spicy and earthy, washing over me. Irritated, I withheld the urge to wrench my skin from his lips, unwilling to be that close to him, yet having to pretend for my mom's sake.

"I know you guys can't wait to start your romance but hold on. I'm still here!" Mom broke in, humor coated in her tone.

Kian chuckled and raised his dark head. "You can't blame me, Ma'am. Your daughter's charm is too strong for me to resist."

Oh please. I held back the scoff that threatened to escape me.

"Mhmm." My mother smiled, a huge ass grin that stretched her lips wide. "If you don't mind, Jade, I want to tell your husband a few things."

Without waiting for my go-ahead, she drew him aside into a long ass conversation. Normally, I might have been piqued to know what on earth she was discussing with him but at the moment, I had no interest whatsoever. I was still in a daze, courtesy of my marital status.

The breeze stung my eyes, whipping the ginger twists I'd recently plaited into my face as I recalled yesterday's events.

I'd actually told Kian I do in court. It had been a quick affair and the only witnesses were my mother, Chloe and the wedding officials. Chloe had been as surprised as I was but when I'd revealed my grandfather's stipulations to her, she'd conceded.

But what caused the greatest amazement within Chloe and I, was Kian agreeing to the marriage. I was confused, even a week after. What had prompted the man to accept my hand? Unlike him, I had a tangible reason why. But I was clueless as to his.

Conflicting thoughts ricocheting within my mind, I shot a bemused look at Kian. My enemy and husband. He still appeared to be in a heated conversation with my mother, every now and then, nodding his head in rapt attention.

Was it his guilty heart? I mean, he could have walked out the second my Mom had relayed that annoying news to us. After all, he wasn't obliged to satisfy my relatives' whims. Yet, the man had said yes to my vows.

Exhausted, I heaved out a tired sigh and wrapped my arms around myself, all the while watching those two chat like old friends. They were finished though, Mom embracing Kian in a quick hug as she patted his back. He returned the hug with the same fervor.

She retrieved her arms from his hold and turned to me. "Come here, my love."

"So you finally realize that I exist now?" I whined but still went into her arms.

Mom clutched me tight, her soft body molding into mine, loving and affectionate. I melted into her warm embrace, a feeling of satisfaction bubbling inside my chest.

"I'm missing you already," I whispered, quite nervous at the journey I was to undertake. Despite it not being a honeymoon trip we were heading to, I still trembled at the unknown.

She patted my hair in a tender caress, her soft tone vibrating against my cheeks. "So am I, but you'll be with your husband and I'm pretty sure he will take care of you. Right Kian?"

"Yes I will," Kian assured in a confident voice, his figure bending down to pick up our luggages from the corner of my eyes. It was time to depart.

Gifting my mother one last squeeze, I picked up my bag and stood next to Kian. He placed a hand at the small of my back. Another ruse to let Mom believe we were truly in love.

"Alright Mom, we'll be heading off now. I'll let you know when we land in Paris." I smiled at her, bounding her happy face to memory. Apart from my craving for vengeance, she was the only person that kept me going, seeing how proud she appeared right now.

"Sure!" She bid us goodbye, casting a grin at us as we veered to the private plane on the landing. The air hostess, a dark haired woman clad in a blue and white uniform, greeted and waved us in. Another plane official took the luggages off Kian's hands and we climbed up the stairs.

Now at the plane's entrance, we circled around to wave one last goodbye at Mother who stood in the distance, Kian's palm still resting on my waist. She returned the gesture, blowing kisses in our direction.

"All passengers on board, please head to your various seats. We are about to take off," came the announcement of the pilot. The metal door shut in accordance with his speech.

"I don't have to remind you to remove your hand now, do I?" I bit out, eager to get his touch off mine.

Kian lifted his hand, lowering his face in apology. "Of course."

I shifted an inch, more intent on studying my surroundings than hearing the note of disappointment that laced his voice.

While it was true that I'd had my share of traveling in private jets, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hold in the gasp of wonder that lay at the tip of my tongue. The interior of the plane was exquisite. Lavish with a splash of deep red and muted tones, it was a beautifully furnished cabin, with a total of 10 laid back seats, plush and comfortable. Everywhere screamed money, lots and lots of it.

"Welcome aboard, sir, ma'am." The air hostess, the name on her tag indicated Hannah, directed us to sit.

I unfastened my jacket and hoisted down, Kian taking the other seat that was opposite mine. Hannah inquired if we would like some drinks and snacks but I declined, Kian too. Left alone, I buckled my seatbelt, placed an eye mask over my eyes and reclined into the chair.

For the remaining seven hours of flight, I ignored Kian. I dozed off, only waking up to eat, ease up then drawn back to the black hands of sleep.

Eventually, we landed in Paris, France in the evening. We alighted from the jet, only to discover that my luggages had been forgotten back in Chicago. Fuck. I wasn't really bothered, I had some clothes in my hand luggage but Kian was mad, judging from the stiffness of his ticking jaw and his blue eyes blazing in fury.

"I have some clothes in my hand luggage," I told him as we walked through immigration protocols. But he was adamant.

"I'm taking you to a clothing store to get whatever you need." Finality coated his tone so I merely shrugged. If he wanted to spend his money, I would gladly help in whatever way I could.

Outside, a rented black car was parked, a valet, a tall man, sporting a goatee, standing next to it.

He handed the keys to Kian, addressing us in a deeply accented voice, "Welcome to Paris, monsieur and madame."

"Merci," I acknowledged in the little French I spoke while Kian opened the door like the gentleman we both knew he wasn't. Annoyed, I overlooked the gesture and slid inside.

Depositing our remaining belongings into the vehicle's rear, he drove us out of the airport, the slight evening wind whipping through my hair. Earlier, I'd been tired but vitality sparked through my veins now. France was alive and rife with people, despite the darkening sky. Quaint cottages contrasted with high rise buildings, yet merging into a lovely landscape. The picturesque and beauty of the lively atmosphere stole my breath away.

We paused at a luxury boutique. Before we made our way in, Kian's last words to me were, Buy whatever you wish for.

At first, I had half a mind to pay him back but seeing his nonchalant attitude and fierce order to purchase whatever I wanted, I decided to get anything that caught my fancy. Expensive gowns. Undergarments. Jeans. Designer skirts. Fashionable shoes. Jewelries. 

"Is that all?" he asked, eyeing the five heavy shopping bags I clutched. We were in front of the cashier.

Is that all? Wasn't the dude seeing the amount of items I gripped in my hands?

Taken aback, I slanted a brow. "I have more than enough, thank you."

"Alright."

He turned to the cashier. "Je paierai avec ma carte."

I stiffened, shuttering my expresion close so as to not display my amazement that he could speak French. But it shouldn't have been a surprise. He was a businessman so it was expected.

"D'accord, monsieur." The cashier shifted the paying machine forward. "Il s'agit d'un total de 10,000 euros."

"Parfait."

10,000 euros, damn. I considered dropping some things I'd picked out of spite behind but Kian had already tugged out his wallet. Without batting an eye, he tapped his card on the screen.

Afterwards, we took off for the 5 star hotel I'd booked back home. On reaching the magnificent building, we left our belongings in the car. Kian divulged that the hotel porters would get it up.

At the reception, Kian conversed, speaking rapid french to the receptionist. I stood aside, my bag hanging off my elbow. Even as exhausted as I was from shopping and traveling, my eyes still roamed the elegant building. They strayed past the opulent walls and expensive paintings, past the gold couches and revolving doors and stuck to my husband's posterior. I ached to pry my eyes away but a part of me couldn't, riveted onto his broad shoulders outlined in his shirt and the hair curling at the nape of his neck.

Why was I staring at him again?

"Jadesola, you booked a two bedroom suite?" he asked, cutting into my betraying thoughts. A scowl, not directed at me but at Bridgette, the black haired receptionist, manned his facial expression.

I gathered myself and shifted close, placing my fingers on the counter. They felt cool to touch. "Yes, I did."

"Well, Bridgette said there's only one bedroom suite, all others are occupied," frustrated, Kian ground out, raking a strong hand through his hair, messing up the wavy strands.

What?! How could they expect him and I to sleep in the same room? Surely that was a joke.

I opened my mouth to voice my displeasure but he was faster, "We're both tired so we'll stay in this room for tonight. I will start looking for a new hotel tomorrow after our meeting with De Santis."

Reluctant but too stressed to begin an argument, I nodded.

Kian acquired the keycard from Bridgette and we headed for the suite. He pried the gleaming metal door open but anxiety didn't allow me to study the room's decor. Concerned with my wellbeing, my first move was to zoom in on the huge bed situated in the middle of the room.

Were we to sleep together on that bed? I hoped not.

I flicked my gaze away, searching for a beacon of hope. The second I glimpsed a couch that perched before a large screen TV, I uttered without thinking, "I'll take the couch."

Kian raised a veiny hand, the ring on his finger glinting as a result of the bright fancy bulbs overhead. "No. I'll take the couch. You can take the bed."

Content with his decision, I lifted my shoulders in an unconcerned shrug. "Alright."

He headed to the telephone on the bedside table to dial a number that was on a piece of laminated paper. "I'll ring for room service to get our bags. What would you like to eat?"

"Anything." I plonked down on the fluffy sheets and yanked my sandals off. I was so fucking drained and wanted nothing more than rest.

"Okay."

He called room service. Within minutes, they delivered his suitcase, laptop case, shopping bags and my hand luggage.

'I'll go grab dinner." Kian departed.

I suspected it was a means of leaving me to my own devices because why couldn't he wait for the hotel cleaners or service people to get the food themselves? I wasn't complaining though.

Now alone, I was free to observe the room we were booked in. Large and expensive, as the name presidential suite implied, dark colors, mostly red and black, screaming of sensuality, decked the satin drapes and sheets. Faint light, streamed from a wide glass wall that also served as a window, rays of the moon beams caressing my skin. It offered a panoramic view of Paris, the Eiffel towel looming in the distance ahead.

Wonderful.

Removing my wedding ring and clothes, I entered the bathroom and locked the door behind me. My eyes flitted wide in unhinged delight. Manning nearly the entire breadth and width of the bathroom was a white bathtub. Adjacent to it, a state-of-the-art shower and other necessities occupied the area.

Giggling in delight at the surety of soaking my aching body, I took a luxurious bath. Then I wrapped myself up in a voluminous towel. Before walking out fully into the bedroom, I peeked from behind the door. Kian was not around. Good.

I unzipped my hand luggage. Inside was a nightgown and a few toiletries. Letting the towel fall away from my body, I slipped into the voluminous white gown.

I tiptoed to the mirror attached to the wardrobe and gazed at my night dress. It was kind of transparent, my nipples poking through the thin material and the apex between my thighs not shrouded enough.

Scared at the thought of Kian viewing me in that state, I rummaged through my bag again, searching for any spare undies. As I combed through, my fingers curled around a black case. I tugged it out and fetched the weapon residing within. A dagger, Kian's pathetic gift.

Since it was a private flight, I'd smuggled it in, loath to travel without it. I stared at the blade for a long while, my eyes flitting across the helm, then at the new clothes he'd bought for me. A wild idea began forming in my head.

Recently he'd been so careful not to touch me and I really craved to stab him so why not tempt him? It was his fault I was in this state of constant cowering and tension. The man needed to have a taste of what I had passed through and more.

Someone knocked, throwing me off. "Jade, it's Kian. Are you decent?"

"Hold on," I rushed out, heart thumping loud and frantic. "I'm still wearing my clothes."

Quick, I hid the dagger beneath the pillow and shimmied into an underwear. Folding part of the gown's hem beneath my knees, I settled on the bed and crossed an arm over my breasts to hide them from his gaze should he choose to peek.

I called out in a curt tone, "You can come in now."

He made his way in, a tray of food gripped in his palms.

"Here." He laid the tray on the nightstand. "Roast beef, pasta, a combination of pastries because I wasn't sure what you wanted and a glass of water and orange juice."

Mute, I refused to acknowledge his efforts, instead I waited until he'd retreated to the sofa, taking with him his own part of the meal. Without much ado, I ate as much as I could, the weak sound of cars zooming by, filtering into our ears even from the height we were situated in.

Done stuffing my tummy with the delicious meal, I texted my mom and focused my fatigued attention on getting ready for sleep while Kian packed his clothes, as quiet as a mouse. He offered to arrange my own side of the wardrobe but I dismissed him. Rather, I positioned the shopping bags and my luggages against the corner of the bed. I would arrange them into the wardrobe later in the morning but as of now, I was too drowsy to care.

I reclined on the bed, waiting patiently for sleep to carry me in its arms. As I stalled, I scrutinized my newly wedded husband with drowsy eyes.

Done with organizing his stuff, he reappeared from the study space, a room I hadn't realized was connected to the suite.

His lips were pursed in concentration as he closed the walk-in-closet door after grabbing a towel and a joggers out.

I had no idea why but my traitorous gaze lingered for a moment on his full sensuous lips then continued its scrutiny down the trail of his neck, his tempting golden skin peeking from behind his unbuttoned shirt.

"I hope you don't mind?" Kian inquired, drawing his shirt up his abs.

Not at all. Shaking my head to and fro, like a deer caught in headlights, eyes flared wide, I stared at him.

He yanked his shirt off and flung it over the bathing towel on his right arm.

Of their own volition, my eyes drank him in. They were fixated on him as he prowled towards the bathroom, the muscles on his abdomen flexing and unflexing with every step he took. His trousers were unbuckled, his briefs hung low on his hips and if they were to slide down a bit, his c—

The bathroom door latched close.

I bolted my eyes shut, ashamed I had been giving him a once-over. My heart raced fast, a slow thrum of something I refused to register pulsing deep in my belly. Try as I might yearn to deny it. Kian was drop dead gorgeous. But a vicious monster lurked behind that charming facade.

Another dark thought hit me, like a sledgehammer had just been thumped on my head. Would he insist on consummating our marriage? Legally, I was his wife and there was no law that stated that he couldn't sleep with me now we were married.

I straightened up, distressed. Sleep eluded me, tension settling into my nerves.

Minutes, it felt like hours, passed and I stayed in that position, twiddling my thumbs together. I nearly shook with fright when Kian ventured out of the bathroom, a towel hanging around his neck. The scent of rosemary and another delicious musk wafted to my nostrils, enclosing me in a cocoon.

Surely, he wouldn't ask me to strip now, right?

He was decked up in joggers, his bare chest glittering with the pearls of water that trailed down his form. A frown marred his forehead once he noticed me sitting upright on the bed.

"I thought you were about to sleep?" he asked, padding to the vanity. He picked up a small towel and wiped off the moisture on his face. An action that was as normal as ABC, yet that simple motion had me enthralled.

What the fuck was wrong with me? My focus was meant to be on avoiding his touch, not this.

Unable to help myself, I asked in a tiny voice, timid, "We are not having sex, right?"

Kian paused and spun to gaze at me. His azure eyes were bleak, tone as dry as leather. "Yes, Jadesola. Even though we're married, I'm not touching you. You can go to sleep now."

Then he resumed his previous action, towelling his hair dry, his toned back, a beautiful artwork of muscles and corded veins, filling my vision.

I knew I shouldn't trust him. Couldn't trust him. The man was known for being a snake. He could go back on his words but there something in his quiet voice that rang with sincerity.

Reassured, I gave him my back and slept, my right hand underneath the pillow, clutching the dagger tightly.

A/N: Guys. It's 5am in the morning. I'm sorry I didn't really edit the chapter that much, but people were asking for an update so I had to start writing around 10 pm yesterday. I'll edit later on. Till then let me know what you think.❤️✨

P.s: Ngl, but writing like this, in this simple style and straight to the point is really easy to work with. Well, until I start berating myself for writing so simply. Anyways, I'll be editing later on. Please have this in mind.

Love, Nita.

Translations:

Je paierai avec ma carte: I will be paying with my card.

D'accord, monsieur: Alright, sir.

Il s'agit d'un total de 10,000 euros: It is a total of 10,000 euros.

Parfait: Perfect.