Chapter 5

I shivered as I opened my eyes, but he was gone. The file he'd come to take still lay untouched on the table, and a ghost of a smile played on my lips; his scent lingered in the air. The moment I processed what had happened, reality crashed down. I couldn't be smiling about Gabriel. I couldn't, and I wasn't. He was rude, and hadn't spent a single night in this house since our wedding. For all I knew, he could be sleeping with someone else, maybe even had a serious girlfriend he planned to marry once our contract ended.

So, I banished the smile and went to my room, thinking of ways to kill time until I heard back from my job interview. Dinner with Gabriel's parents was the only thing scheduled until tomorrow night. He hadn't told me what time we were leaving, and I was too stubborn to call him again. I half-expected a call from Peter, or for Luna to pop in and let me know Gabriel was home (I may have strategically positioned her at the main entrance instead of outside my door, instructing her to tell me when he arrived), but I heard nothing.

He had said dinner was tonight, hadn't he? I had a midnight-blue long dress selected and ironed, accessories arranged on the dresser, and a fresh manicure. Still, no sign of him until six o'clock.

Just as I was about to give up, there was a knock. I threw the door open, knowing exactly who it was. "Luna, is he ho—"

My words died in my throat. It wasn't the pale, timid girl I expected, but Gabriel himself.

"He is home," he said, amused, his eyes flickering between me and the room behind me. I stood in the doorway, blocking his entrance. "You aren't dressed," he stated flatly.

"You never told me what time I needed to be ready," I retorted.

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly disappointed. "I didn't think it needed saying."

"So you expected me to be dressed all evening and parade around the house like a butterfly?"

I stared, speechless. "You're kidding, right?"

"I don'tkid."

"Of course you don't," I muttered. "Just give me thirty minutes, okay?"

"That'll be enough?"

"It will."

"Okay, then." He nodded and left.

Chapter 3

Oh my God. I was married to a robot who couldn't express a single emotion. And if he was like that, his parents must be terrifying. That's all I could think as I got dressed, suddenly doubting my outfit: was a form-fitting dress the right choice? Was blue the right color? Was the diamond bag the right accessory?

Nonetheless, I was downstairs in twenty-seven minutes (I set a timer for thirty). I remembered how furious he'd been the last time I showered ten minutes over my allotted time, and I didn't need extra stress before meeting his parents.

"Sorry, Sofia," Luna whispered softly, handing me a glass of water. She knew why I was waiting by the door and had asked me to stay there.

"It's not your fault. He'swell" I trailed off, watching him emerge from his room and walk toward the stairs—thirty minutes, on the dot.

Attractive.

"Intimidating?" Luna suggested.

The way he folded his white shirt? Hot.

"Scary?" she murmured, and I snapped out of it.

"Annoying," I huffed, dismissing my thoughts. Gabriel Whitlock was not attractive.

"You're early," his voice echoed in the hallway as he stood before me, still so much taller than me, even in my stilettos.

I shrugged, offering no reply. "A compliment wouldn't kill you."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't do compliments."

Jeez. Thanks.

"The car's outside. Let's go, we're late." Without another look, he walked out, and I followed, shaking my head.

It wasn't a long limousine waiting; instead, a black Mustang with a driver holding the keys, which he immediately handed to Gabriel. Gabriel looked at me briefly before getting into the driver's seat. Gabriel was driving.

I paused, took a deep breath, and got into the passenger seat.

The fifteen-minute drive, unsurprisingly, began silently, so I spoke up: "Can I play some music?"

He gave me a fleeting glance.

"Let me guess, you don't do music either?"

He remained silent, eyes on the road.

My jaw dropped. "Wait, you actually don't like music?!" It was more of an accusation than a question.

"Freckles, has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot?"

"No, actually. You're the quietest person I know. I don't talk a lot. I just make conversation; it's polite."

"Some people like their peace."

"Such people die alone."

His hand tightened on the steering wheel, and I wondered if I'd struck a nerve.

"Sorry," I murmured. "I ramble when I'm nervous."

He sighed deeply, but asked, "Why are you nervous?"

"To meet your parents, of course."

"You have no reason to be nervous," he replied. "They're different."

"Different?" I asked. He didn't answer, and I didn't press. For the rest of the ride, I pondered the meaning of "different," until we arrived.

Gabriel stopped in front of a house that was identical to many others in a row—a two-story house with a lawn. I was surprised. While warm and comfortable, it didn't seem to fit the Whitlock family's wealth; I'd expected something more like a Victorian castle.

"You coming?" Gabriel's voice pulled me from my thoughts; he'd already gotten out.

Nodding, I quickly followed him up the wraparound porch. He waited for me to catch my breath before ringing the doorbell.

"We've had a love marriage," he announced to the white door, as if he wasn't speaking to me.

"What?" I stared at him, unsure if I'd heard correctly, but before he could respond, the door flew open.