The Reluctant Bride (Arranged Marriage #1)(60)

“Yes, sir. Can’t see the bride first thing in the morning on our wedding day, right? It’s bad luck, according to my mother.”

“And it’s not bad luck to be living in sin together before you’re married.” He shakes his head and starts to walk away. “I will never understand young people.”

We watch him go, the both of us quiet for a moment.

“He doesn’t like me,” Perry murmurs.

“You don’t like him either.”

He glances toward me, his gaze sharp. “You can tell?”

“Everyone can tell.”

Perry returns his gaze to my father, watching as he speaks to my mother, his mouth formed into a snarl. I’m sure he’s chewing her out for something she didn’t do. “He’s unkind to you.”

That is the nicest way to put it. “He’s unkind to women in general.”

“So he’s a misogynistic asshole?” Perry’s brows shoot up.

“I suppose.” I shrug. “He doesn’t like me either.”

His expression darkens. “Why the hell not?”

“I wasn’t born with a penis.”

“Thank God,” Perry mutters.

I smile, secretly pleased. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“Me either. Let’s change the subject.” His smile is slow. Seductive. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Now I’m even more pleased.

“Even though at first, I have to admit. I didn’t like your dress,” he continues.

“What?” I glance down at myself. This dress was nothing special on the hanger, but when I slipped it on…

I knew Perry would approve. And while we’re bashing my father for being sexist, I’m also setting the feminist movement back a bit for wanting to look beautiful for my fiancé.

Is that really so wrong though, to want his approval? To want him to really see me and think I’m beautiful? Even if he’s lying, I’ll take it.

Does that make me pitiful? Perhaps. But right now, I don’t really care.

“It’s too naked.” His gaze starts at my shoulders, sliding down as he takes me in, my skin growing warm when his eyes linger on particular spots of my body. “I thought everyone could see through it.”

“But it’s not see-through,” I protest, my voice weak. My heart racing.

“I know. I wish it was. Only for me though.” His wicked smile fills me with temptation.

The temptation to touch him again.

Lean into him and inhale his delicious scent.

Maybe even beg him to kiss me…

“I think I’m going to give you your surprise now.” His deep voice breaks into my thoughts and I drop my carefully constructed façade that I’ve worked so hard these last few weeks to keep up and smile at him.

Like…really smile at him. Let my happiness show versus hiding it all the time.

“What is it?”

Perry reaches for his jacket, which hangs on the back of his chair, and digs his hand into the inside pocket, pulling out a very small white box topped with a tiny, black bow.

“For you.” He holds out the box for me to take, and I grab it with shaky fingers, settling it onto the table and popping off the lid.

A pair of earrings are nestled inside, and oh, they look old. I trace my finger over one, marveling at the intricate setting, all the words of praise for them stuck in my throat.

“They belonged to my great-grandmother on my father’s side,” Perry explains. “I found them when I was going through our family’s jewelry a couple of weeks ago.”

I lift my gaze to his. “Your mother found them?”

He shakes his head. “I asked her if I could go through the jewels, but I’m the one who came across them. Not her.”

“Oh.” I can’t stop staring at them. They’re so beautiful. Such an intricate design, and so unique. So special because they belonged to someone else. Someone connected to my future husband. “Are they art deco? They look it.”

“I’m not sure. I just know they’re old, and you mentioned that you like old things. When I gave you the ring and you seemed disappointed?”

He didn’t want to disappoint me. That’s the meaning behind these earrings. He wanted to make me happy. Put a smile on my face. He actually listened to me and is giving me something he knew I would want.

My heart swells, threatening to burst out of my chest.

“I love them.” Without thought I reach for him, slipping my arms around his neck and pressing my mouth to his in the briefest kiss. I pull away slightly, my face still in his as I murmur, “Thank you.”

His hand comes up, his long fingers circling around the base of my ponytail, keeping me in place. “You like them, then?”

“So much.”

His voice lowers, his gaze stuck on my mouth. “I want you to wear them tomorrow when I marry you.”

It’s the way he says it. As if he actually wants to marry me.

“I’ll wear them.”

He lifts a brow. “Promise?”

“Yes.” I try to nod, but his grip on my hair is too firm.

“Good.” His fingers loosen, bracing against the back of my head as he kisses me again, sparks flying the moment our lips touch. The simple gesture is full of so much promise, my breasts grow tight and a tingling sensation starts between my legs.