Chapter 45
Chapter 45
Evelynne:
Days went by fast, and soon it was Friday–which is the day Rhsyand and I would be making our first appearance by going for a charity event together, as a couple.
A deep heavy breath escaped my lips, and despite how hard I was trying to not think, I just couldn’t help but wonder if I’ve made the right decision to go on with all this.
Eventually, at the end, I’ll get what I want, but then what? after two years of being attached together, would I just step out of his life like I had never existed? would I even survive this life this time around? would my story really change?
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I subtly gave my head a little shake, before opening my eyes to stare straight. I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing my hands down the sleek black dress that hugged every curve of my body.
I wasn’t on the floor length gown that Rhysand had instructed me to wear–it barely reached my knees–but it was still black. as he requested- I simply compromised. The thin straps hung delicately on my shoulders, and my eyes drifted down to the open neckline, it was bold, perhaps it might be too much for his taste. But to be frank, I didn’t care.
I stared at my reflection, completely content and satisfied. Sure, it was a little more revealing than I usually went for, but there was something liberating about it, something rebellious.
Rhysand wanted control, and I wasn’t about to hand it over so easily.
If he had issues with my change of dress, that’s going to be his problem and definitely not mine.
The knock on the entrance door to the house came right on time. I grabbed my clutch, took a deep breath before heading out to meet him.
As soon as I stepped outside, Rhysand’s gaze settled on me, and so did my eyes settle on his relaxed expression as he leaned his back on the black car parked outside.
A frown slowly furrowed in his brows and he shook his head, seeming to not undersand. His gaze traveled from the tips of my heels, up my legs, to the dress that according to him–should’ve been much longer. His face twisted into a frown, his displeasure as clear as day.
“This isn’t the dress,” he finally voiced out, in a cold and displeased voice, cutting through the night air.
Tension rippled through my nerves at the intense look on his eyes that was clouded with anger.
I shrugged, unbothered by the growing anger radiating off him, “I know. This might not be the dress to you, but this is what I’m wearing.”
His expression darkened, and he stepped closer, towering over me in the same way he always when he wanted to intimidate me. Ha, tough luck! cause I wasn’t intimidated–not by him, or anyone…
His jaw tightened, and he narrowed his eyes at me, “I gave you clear instructions!”
“Yes, you did,” I replied smoothly, meeting his gaze with a small smile. “But I chose to not take your orders.” I tilted my head, the smile never leaving my face. “Besides, it’s black. I followed the color scheme.”
His eyes flashed with anger, and for a split second, I thought he might say something–yell, argue, anything or worse, tell me to go change the dress–but he didn’t. Instead, he just stared at me, like he couldn’t quite believe my audacity. Well, believe
- it.
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Without another word, he turned sharply and walked to the car, his movements stiff with frustration. I could feel the heat of his anger even as I followed him, my heels clicking against the pavement with every step. I could practically hear the argument playing out in his head, the way he wanted to tear into me but was holding it back.
Good. Let him stew in it.
Throughtout the car ride over to the Charity event, not even a single word was spoken between us.
The silence in the car was defeating and it began to grate on my nerves.
Rhysand didn’t look at me, didn’t say a single word as he drove. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white, but I kept my gaze out the window, pretending to enjoy the passing scenery.
I could feel his irritation, his fury dancing just below the surface, but I refused to acknowledge it. He was angry because he couldn’t control me, and that made this victory all the sweeter.
When we pulled up to the event, I stepped out of the car, catching the fleeting touch of his hand as he helped me out. His actions were automatic, polite even, but I could sense the storm brewing just beneath his calm exterior. He leaned in close, his voice low and tense.
“I’m honestly still pissed that you defied me,” his warm breath fanned my neck as he came to stand beside me, and at the same time his right hand settled on the small of my back, “Just remember,” he said, voice still very low and barely audible, “That you are with me tonight.
I simply nodded to him.
We walked into the venue, and soon as we entered, it felt as if air was knocked out of my lungs, as almost every single person had their eyes on us.
I could feel the eyes on us–on me, especially. low voices of whispers errupted, the judging glances from the women in their long modest gowns. It didn’t bother me. Let them talk. They were just upset because I wasn’t fitting into their neat little box of what a woman in my position should look like.
Rhysand, however, was stone–faced, his usual cool, collected mask firmly in place, though I could feel the tension rolling of him in waves. He wasn’t speaking to me, but I knew he wanted to. The weight of his silence was almost amusing.
All he did was keep me beside him, holding me protectively in his arms.
We moved through the room, mingling with guests, most of whom seemed more interested in what I was wearing than in who we were.
An older man approached us and tagging along with him was a woman that looked to be his wife, and with them was a young lady, probably in her early twenties, which I presumed was his daughter.
“Mr. Thorne,” the man reached our front, and shook hands with Rhysand whose expression still haven’t wavered. The old man’s gaze turned to me, “Oh wow! who is this damsel you brought along with you Mr. Thorne!”
Rhysand barely said anything as he introduced us, “Evelynne, this is Mr Grey, and beside him is his wife, then the lady with them is their daughter.” he gestured, but there was no way I would have missed the way the younger lady stared at him.
“Nice to meet you,” My lips pulled up into a smile, as we exchanged pleasantaries.
The hum of conversation and soft clinking of glasses surrounded us. The room was lavish, filled with people dressed to either impress or show off, chandeliers casted a warm glow on the room filled with women in expensive gowns and men in perfectly tailored suits. I could feel the weight of Rhysand’s silence beside me, his frustration still simmering under the
surface.
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Chapter 45
I stole a glance at him. His jaw was tight, eyes scanning the room with a detached kind of focus. He was will angry, 1 knew it without him having to say a word, but I wasn’t about to let it bother me. If he wanted to sulk, let him.
As we walked further into the large hall, the tension between us became unbearable, and I looked around the whole place, thinking of what to bring up in order to ease the tension, even if a little.
Looking around, I spotted a massive chandelier overhead, sparkling with lights like a sea of stars, and nudged him dightly. “That thing looks like it could fall any second,” I said, my voice light, hoping to break through the tension. “Imagine the chaos it would cause.”
Rhysand didn’t respond immediately, but after a moment, his gaze flicked up to the chandelier. “It’d make the evening more interesting, at least,” he muttered, his tone dry,
I smiled at that. He was pissed, but he was still talking to me, which was a start.
My eyes spotted a waiter carrying a tray of champagne and grabbed two glasses, handing one to him. “You know,” I began casually, “I’ve always wondered… do these events,” I paused, looking around, “like the charity events, do they actually accomplish anything, or are they just an excuse for rich people to get drunk and show off?”
Rhysand regarded me for the briefest moment before he took the glass from me but didn’t immediately respond. He glanced around the room, his brow furrowed, clearly still carrying the weight of our earlier disagreement. But after a moment, he said, “Both, probably. Though the showing off tends to lead to business deals”
Taking a sip of the champagne, I let the taste flow down my tongue as I savoured it, “So, let me guess, half these people couldn’t care less about the charity, but they’ll throw money around just to be seen doing it.”
He didn’t respond right away, but I caught the subtle twitch in his jaw, a sure sign that he was listening. “It’s how things work, he muttered. “Appearances matter. This isn’t just about charity. It’s about who’s watching and who’s willing to give more
Suddenly curious, I asked “So, it’s a competition. The winner is the one who writes the biggest check?”
Rhysand’s gaze swept over the crowd, his expression unreadable. “In a way, yes. But it’s not just the money. It’s about influence–who’s aligning themselves with the right causes and who’s being noticed doing it.”
I took a sip, glancing up at him. “Sounds exhausting. You spend all this time pretending to care about something when really, it’s just politics.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t snap back. Instead, he spoke evenly, though I could hear the tension beneath his words. “Not everyone here is pretending. There are a few people who actually care about what they’re supporting tonight.”
“Is that why you’re here?” I asked, trying to gauge his mood. “Do you care?”
Rhysand finally turned his gaze toward me, his expression still guarded, but there was something softer now. “I wouldn’t have brought you if I didn’t care about the cause. This charity means something to me.”
I paused, surprised by the shift in his tone. “You could’ve told me that before,” I said, a bit more gently than I intended. “Maybe I wouldn’t have made such a blg deal about the dress if I knew.”
He raised an eyebrow, not quite convinced. “You would’ve made a big deal regardless.”
“Maybe,” I admitted with a small grin. “But still, it would’ve helped.”
Rhysand gave me a subtle nod, “Do understand that I’m not trying to dictate how you dress,” he suddenly pointed out, eyes locking into mine, “I got you that dress cause it was more appropriate for the event and it looked like something you’ll accept.”
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I looked down at the glass of champagne, with my heart beating in my chest at his words, “You could have just told me this at first.” I bit my lips in regret and looked away from him.
As we moved further into the crowd, I noticed how closely we walked together now, almost in sync. He didn’t seemed pissed anymore, it felt like there was an understanding between us, even if unspoken. I could feel it–the shift, the subtle way the tension eadhed away from his shoulders.
And at that moment, I couldn’t help but think to myself. Maybe, just maybe, we were starting to figure this out.
AD
