Chapter 84: Why are we hiding?.

"Get in, Nerissa."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"You’re very bossy."

"And you’re very late."

I gasp.

"Excuse me?"

He simply raises an eyebrow.

I hate him. I really, really hate him.

At least, I would if he weren’t standing there looking like that in his perfectly tailored suit.

I sigh and step closer.

"Thank you."

He holds the door while I carefully lower myself into the passenger seat.

The interior is just as beautiful as the exterior. The leather is immaculate, and everything about the car feels expensive in a way that makes me afraid to touch anything.

I settle my dress around my legs and place my purse beside me.

Lysander closes my door gently.

Through the window, I watch him walk around the front of the car.

Even his walk is irritatingly confident.

He gets into the driver’s seat, adjusts himself, and starts the engine.

The sound is smooth but powerful.

I glance at him.

"You really like this car, don’t you?"

He looks at me briefly.

"You have no idea."

He drives away from the mansion.

When we finally arrive at the venue, I understand that I’m about to discover something else.

The reporters go absolutely crazy. The moment we pull up, cameras begin flashing from every direction. Photographers crowd the red carpet, calling our names and shouting questions.

Then Lysander steps out, he comes around to my side and opens the door.

The flashes intensify.

I blink against the sudden brightness as Lysander extends his hand, and I take it.

The moment I step out, his arm settles around my waist.

His palm rests against my bare skin and i almost forget how to breathe.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

Because apparently, choosing a dress with a dangerously low back wasn’t enough of a challenge for one evening. Now I have a husband whose touch is making it incredibly difficult to remember that we’re supposed to be pretending to be a happily married couple.

His fingers rest just above my hip, it feels entirely too distracting.

I fight the urge to shift away.

Not because I dislike the contact.

That would be a lie.....a very embarrassing lie.

Instead, I straighten my shoulders and smile for the cameras.

Lysander leans slightly closer.

"Smile, sweetheart."

Sweetheart?

I turn my head toward him.

His expression is perfectly composed.

The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

I smile wider for the cameras, silently promising to get my revenge later.

We walk along the red carpet, surrounded by photographers shouting our names.

Then I notice something strange, they aren’t just taking pictures of us.

They’re photographing the car.

Several photographers have abandoned their positions near the entrance to get better shots of it. One crouches to photograph the front while another circles around the back.

I glance over my shoulder.

What the hell?

I look at the other cars parked nearby.

Expensive looking cars, cars that probably cost more than most people earn in their entire lives.

Yet none of them are attracting this much attention.

I wait until we’ve moved away from the red carpet and the noise has faded slightly.

Then I look up at Lysander.

"Why are they taking pictures of your car?"

He gives me a look.

"I told you. It’s a Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR Uhlenhaut Coupé."

"And I told you that explained absolutely nothing."

He exhales through his nose, looking suspiciously amused.

"There are only two of those cars in the world."

I stop walking.

He takes another step before realizing I’m no longer beside him.

He turns to look at me while i stare at him.

"Two?"

"Two."

"In the entire world?"

"Yes, Nerissa."

I look back toward the car.

Then at him.

"You’re telling me you own one of only two cars of that model in existence, and you said it as casually as someone telling me they own a pair of shoes?"

His mouth curves into a faint smile.

I pull out my phone.

"You’re unbelievable."

I open the browser and type the name of the car into the search bar.

The results appear almost immediately and I tap the first relevant page. Then I read the price.

It costs $142 million.

I slowly lower my phone.

Just how rich is the family I just got married to?

I glance at my husband, who looks perfectly comfortable as he greets a few men near the entrance.

"Stop staring at him like that," a familiar voice says beside me.

I turn and find Victoria grinning at me.

"I’m not staring."

"Of course not." Her gaze shifts to Lysander, then back to me. "You were just admiring your husband from a perfectly respectable distance."

"I was just thinking."

"About his face?"

Before I can answer to that, Victoria loops her arm through mine.

"Come on. We have a few things to discuss, and I refuse to spend the entire evening watching you drool over your Husband."

I open my mouth to defend myself, but a movement beside me catches my attention. Lysander has been listening to our conversation with an expression that suggests he regrets every decision that led him to marry me.

Good. The feeling is veryy mutual.

His gaze drops briefly to my arm linked with Victoria’s before returning to my face.

"Where are you taking her?" he asks Victoria.

Victoria sighs.

"We’re going to find Isabella, I promise to return your wife in one piece."

"You’d better."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I’m reminding you."

"Such a charming man."

"I’ve been told."

I bite the inside of my cheek.

Lysander turns to me, the humor disappearing from his face.

"Stay with Victoria."

"I’m capable of looking after myself."

"I know."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"Because I would prefer not to spend my evening searching for you."

I narrow my eyes. "Perhaps you should have married someone less troublesome?."

"Perhaps."

Infuriating man.

"Go," I tell him, waving him away. "Before I change my mind about being seen with you."

His eyes linger on mine for a moment before he looks toward the approaching minister.

The older man is dressed in an immaculate black suit, his silver hair neatly combed. He greets Lysander with the kind of enthusiasm people reserve for men they either admire or fear.

Possibly both.

Lysander’s posture shifts. The playful edge vanishes, replaced by the cold composure I have come to recognize.

He murmurs something to me before stepping forward to greet the minister but i catch only the last part.

"...won’t take long."

I lift an eyebrow.

He gives me one final look, clearly reluctant to leave me behind, before the minister draws him into conversation.

I watch him go then I turn to Victoria as she tugs me through the crowd.

The ballroom is enormous, a woman in a gold dress whispers behind her hand as we pass. Two men standing beside a marble pillar glance at Victoria, then at me.

I smile sweetly and he pales.

Interesting.

She steers me toward a quieter section of the ballroom.

We pass through a wide archway decorated with white roses and gold ribbons. The music becomes softer here, and the crowd thins as we move away from the main gathering.

Then I see her.

Isabella stands near a tall window, partially concealed by a cluster of decorative palms and a large arrangement of flowers.

She looks beautiful tonight.

The moment she spots us, relief washes across her face.

Victoria releases my arm and walks toward her while i follow, my heels clicking against the polished floor.

By the time I reach them, Isabella has already caught my hand.

"Finally," she whispers.

I look from her to Victoria. Then I glance toward the crowd we have just left behind.

"Why are we hiding?"