Strike ( Book 4: Stronger Series )

32. False Hope

The following morning, I was feeling better. After spending the whole day by myself, watching comedies, swimming in the pool, playing with Camaro, and exercising like Darren said I should, I was feeling more like myself again. That was, until I fell asleep on the couch and had another dream of my time with Darren in the basement, resulting in another panic attack.

Luckily, no one was there to witness it except Clive and Owen, and they were used to seeing that shit. At least they were nice enough to distract me through it until I was able to finally catch my breath. I knew Clive and Owen would report it to Darren, but it occurred so often that he didn't address it anymore. Per Sid, Darren would only be keeping track and would leave it to Sid to handle if they worsened. I noticed they would sometimes worsen when I was stressed, which wasn't exactly a rare occurrence, but I had to have hope that one day they'd regress over time.

Throughout the day, I drank a shit ton of water, peed every five minutes, and feasted on all my favorite foods while Darren went off to France without me for some meeting. I didn't mind this time. I had no interest in being seen by another person for the entire day. It was a miracle I was able to get up off the couch at all.

But when the sun rose the next day and Darren said we could explore Nice, I was not about to waste that opportunity again. After taking a small boat to a nearby marina and passing through customs, we walked along the Promenade des Angelais, admiring the pebbled shoreline of Baie des Anges while overlooking the topless sunbathing locals. Seeing the water from that end, looking out into the expansive shore of the Mediterranean, it was serene in a way that couldn't be explained.

Like Valencia, Nice was another gem in Europe. I found myself once again fascinated by the beautiful architecture of one of the most popular cities in France. The large extent of orange barrel clay tiled roofs added to the already warm colors of the timeless buildings of Old Nice. The city was awash with color, culture, and creativity spanning from centuries before, and I marveled in it all.

I was actually relieved to finally be on solid ground as we bustled through the busy ways of Place Masséna, appreciating the Fountain Du Soleil and the black and white checkered pattern of the square. Once again, I relied on Darren's hand to hold mine and guide me through the streets without running into anyone so I could soak up as much of the scenery as I could.

Darren's demeanor wasn't as memorable as it was in Valencia, probably because he was still brooding over my recent drug incident, but if I could reserve my rage for another time, so could he. Easier said than done, of course.

We were currently sitting in a private dining room of some fancy restaurant, featuring a fine white interior that included the tables, chairs, walls, and some of the decorative furnishings. It was a little eerie but interesting, and as I sipped on my wine for the night, I tried to slip into a calm, knowing we would be headed back to the yacht soon for the night. I was exhausted, and my body was ready to ditch the heels and tight black dress that had been provided for me to change into for dinner.

"You look tired," Darren commented as he pushed his finished plate to the side.

I nodded in agreement but didn't want to discourage anything. "I had a really good day, though."

He gave me a soft smile. "I'm glad to hear it."

Striking the match of opportunity, I gently reached across the table for Darren's hand, my fingers grazing his silver wedding ring, observing the intricate details of the engraved designs on it that I hadn't noticed before. I could feel him watching me like a hawk, that stare burning into me with intrigue as he let me study his ring. When I noticed the design looked familiar, I realized it resembled the same pattern of the Gaelic designs he had tattooed all the way up his left arm.

"Find something interesting?" Darren asked me.

I shook my head. "Just admiring the designs on your ring. I just now realized they match your ink."

Darren was silent for a moment before he spoke. "I don't have much time to reflect on my heritage, but I honor it where I can."

"Your father's heritage?" I doubted his mother's heritage was even considered.

Darren nodded. "My great-great-grandfather came to America from Stirling, Scotland. His surname was Davin until he changed it to Davis so that his family wouldn't be able to track him here."

Okay, I'll take the bait.

"What was he running from?"

"An arranged marriage," he answered on a laugh.

My eyes shot to his, my brows lifting in surprise at Darren's humor. Good to know he found the irony comical.

"Can't imagine why anyone would want to run from that," I added with a smirk, releasing Darren's hand. But as I retracted, he held me fast, catching my wrist in his hand, his thumb grazing along my skin.

"The irony isn't lost on me, Jaden. I once squashed a potential arranged marriage the moment my father put it on the table."

I didn't give him a chance to continue before I interrupted him. "To who?"

He gave me that little knowing smirk of his. "It doesn't matter. She was all wrong for me, and my father knew it."

"I'm honestly a little surprised he let you out of it. I would have thought that sort of rejection would mean consequences."

"Not when you're the one in the position of power," he answered. I eyed him carefully, hopeful I wasn't appearing bitter.

"How fortunate for you."

This conversation was starting to leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Attempting to pull my wrist away, Darren refused again, placing it in both his hands this time. Splaying my fingers out, he turned my hand over, his thumb grazing along the tattoo that displayed his name and claim of ownership. His hands were so much bigger than mine, over twice the size, and a million times stronger. They were capable of so many horrible, painful things, things that I would never be able to forget. So on the days they were gentle and pleasurable, I would show my gratefulness in return.

"Has being married to me really been so terrible?" he suddenly asked.

I felt my stomach shrivel up in panic. What had I done to make him think that?

"Hard to tell. It's only been a few days," I replied with a wink, hoping for a solid recovery.

"And these past few days, have you enjoyed them?"

I softened my look, my eyes finding his and searching for that connection. "Aside from the day before, very much. This is a side of things I don't normally get to see. We don't normally get to see. You can't tell me you haven't enjoyed it too."

He only gave me a soft half smile then. "You know days like these are only temporary."

That didn't answer my question. Instead, it only made me look away as disappointment filled my chest. Of course, it was only temporary. I knew that. But it didn't mean I couldn't hope for it.

"They don't have to be," I murmured. Darren then released my hand and stood from his chair.

"Enjoy what you can, Jaden, but don't let this honeymoon spoil your expectations. That would be a mistake."

The mistake would be thinking he would ever be capable of learning to love something he wasn't accustomed to. Darren was too damn stubborn to break away from the dark world he had so carefully constructed for himself. I couldn't expect anything less.

Standing over me so tall, menacing, and devilishly handsome, he held out his hand for me to take with a look of finality on his face. Slipping my hand in his, I let him help me from my chair like a good husband should.

"I would never be so presumptuous," I answered.

But the honeymoon wasn't over yet. And I was just as stubborn as he was.

ↈↈↈↈↈↈↈↈↈↈ

Sorry that I am making short chapters