Falling for Fallon (Oak Hill 2)

A small smile formed on my mouth. I pushed my phone back into my clutch and continued walking up to Derek. As soon as I was a few feet away, he walked over to me and leaned down to place a soft kiss on my cheek. I paused, waiting for the reprimand of my dress choice, but he pulled back and licked his lips.

His mouth formed a devious grin, and he whispered into my ear, “I knew you would wear red simply because I told you not to. You look… beautiful. Thanks for defying me.”

My heart turned to stone. MOTHERFUCKER! Emmett’s and my plan backfired!

I didn’t say anything, but I knew he could tell I was seething. Derek guided my hand to his arm, and I had to hold back my pinch. What a dick! Was this his form of flirting? Was this his way of getting me to like him so we didn’t have the world’s worst marriage?

The lights were bright, and flowers were placed in every direction. The event had been planned to perfection. Everyone had a drink in their hand and was wearing their fancy gowns and pristine suits. Servers in their white shirts, black vests, and bowties were carrying around silver platters full of hors d’oeuvres. I saw my parents up ahead. My mother wore a stunning, black sparkly gown that fit her small frame like a second skin. My father looked snazzy, as always, his graying hair combed over with a clean-shaven face.

I ran my gaze around the room as Derek continued to pull me through the threshold. He introduced me to a few people, mentioning the fact that I was his soon-to-be fiancée. I played my part well. I smiled and shook hands, knowing my parents were watching me closely–especially my mother. It wasn’t hard for me to play my part, honestly. I was born and groomed for this sort of thing, which only made me feel worse on the inside when I knew that it wasn’t really the life I wanted.

“Who is that? I asked aloud, staring at a woman who was eyeing me like she was seconds from snatching up a silver platter and hocking it at me like a Frisbee.

Derek turned toward me. “What?”

“Who is that woman, and why is she glaring at us?” Derek moved his gaze over to the dark-haired girl and grimaced. He angled his head down to me, a remorseful look in his eye. I knew right then who it was.

“If you think, for even a second when I’m your wife, that I’ll be okay with you being with other women, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Derek’s eyebrow raised, and a devious grin formed on his mouth. “I have a feeling, after I have my taste of you, I won’t be needing anything else.”

My heart stopped. “Who says you’ll be getting a taste of me?”

His eyes darkened. “You expect me to stay monogamous in a marriage full of… nothing? I can’t force you to fuck me, Fallon, and I won’t touch you unless you give me the okay… but just think of how dull and unfulfilling this marriage will be if we don’t even try to make it work. I sure hope you change your attitude. For the both of us.”

My stomach felt like mush. My entire body tingled. Guilt was caging me in, as was fear. What have I gotten myself into?

“Come on,” Derek said, shifting our conversation. “Let’s just get a drink, and you can sit over there at the table and think about what I just said. If you’re not willing to be in this marriage, then you need to say something soon, because both of our parents are ready for this—as am I.”

I hated that I wanted to cry, but I did. A few weeks ago, I thought I was finally coming to terms with the entire thing–this life. I weighed my options carefully: be thrown out of the family and disowned, or marry a man of approval and continue living life the way it was. I chose the latter. But now that I’d had a small taste of a different life—one where I had fun and laughed, one where I felt lighter—I was fully aware that marrying Derek would feel like I was signing my own death certificate.

I didn’t make another peep to Derek as we made our way to the table. We didn’t stop to say our “hellos” to anyone else. I couldn’t even bring myself to smile at people. Derek snagged me a glass of white wine and ushered me to our table. Then, he turned on his heel to go talk “shop” with my father and his associates.

I sighed as I leaned back in my chair. Usually at these types of galas, where the entire company was forced to come, I would walk around and mingle with old acquaintances, or I’d at least entertain myself by secretly making fun of Mallory from afar. But tonight, I sat quietly, taking small sips of my wine. I hated wine, but of course, it was “classy,” so I was forced to drink it at these events.

Just as I was pushing my wine glass away from me, I felt my phone buzz in my clutch. I quickly unlatched it and pulled my phone in front of me. Excitement filled me up completely and drowned out all the words that Derek had just said.

Emmett: You never did tell me why you can’t have tacos when you want.

I looked around the black tablecloth, noting the pretty centerpiece, and quickly typed my response.

Me: My mom told me that it’s not proper food for someone with our class. So, whenever she’d see me eating one as a teenager, she’d lose her mind.

I swallowed more wine, still disgusted with the blunt, fruity taste. My phone buzzed again, and I had to hold back my laughter when I opened the text.

Emmett: ATTACHMENT

It was a picture of Emmett, Dawson, and Ivy, all smashing a taco into their face. Ivy somehow still managed to look pretty, Dawson had cheese on his face, and Emmett was licking his taco…

I was instantly jealous.

I wasn’t sure if I was jealous that Emmett had a taco or of the taco itself.

The taco looked so tasty. So tasty that my mouth watered.

But seeing Emmett’s tongue darting out of his sculpted mouth only brought me back to when he’d been under my dress in yet another embarrassing moment caused by yours truly. I was suddenly all hot and bothered.

I texted him back after glancing around the room, making sure no one was paying any attention to me.