Unwanted Wedlock

Chapter 8

      In a few photos that took way too long Lyla could finally move again.

      Holy... 

      That was painful.

      But it wasn't done yet. Lyla nearly had a heart attack hearing that they needed to change the dress. Changing it once to the most uncomfortable thing in the world was horrible enough now they had to change again? 

     It took about another thirty minutes once they got into the dressing room to get out. Thankfully, the second dress looked far less revealing. Sure, it was short but Lyla wasn't too shy about her legs compared to the rest of her body. It came as short as her usual pajama shorts anyway. It was a full sleeved one that didn't have a deep neckline but instead it was a broad neck line that showed her collarbones. It didn't go deep at all which she was grateful for and the lady made her wear another chain. Lyla argued for the same shoes as last time because she just could not bear the thought of having to torture herself even more with wearing some needles on her feet.

      When Lyla stepped out of the dressing room Ryerson had just gotten changed. How was that fair? She had to be in that room of horror for half an hour but he literally only took a couple of minutes to change? He looked handsome though. But when did he not? He was wearing a crisp suit now, it was neat and he didn't seem the least uncomfortable in it. Then again, suits were basically his daily wear. This time he basically stopped when he saw her, shamelessly staring. Lyla almost scoffed out loud.

      "So," Carl started in his nasally voice, "you two are going to be standing. Mr. Reeds you will be standing close to Mrs.Reeds of course," Lyla bit her lip to hold back her groan, "you will be holding her, hands on her waist, not any lower," the man smirked like he just cracked the world's funniest anecdote, "and Mrs. Reeds you'll be having your hands in Mr. Reeds' hair," she nearly stuck out her tongue. Why wasn't Ryerson saying shit? "and you are going to kiss his neck, I'm sure it won't be hard to find the right place, I'm sure you've done it plenty of times before." Lyla coughed trying to stop herself from retorting.

      "My wife is not big on PDA," Ryerson explained, placing a hand on the small of her back to which she discreetly moved out of.

      "I'm sorry, Mr. Reeds, but this is an important shot," Carl said. Ryerson just nodded after a second. 

      Seriously? 

      This guy was stupid rich and powerful, probably the most intimidating idiot on the planet and he decides to just stop arguing? Why the hell was he not saying anything? Carl moved away to set up the set. Ryerson pulled Lyla into him, pretending that he was saying comforting things, he slowly placed a lock of hair behind her ear, whispering to make sure nobody else heard.

       "You're my wife," he said. He was holding a smile just for show if others on the set saw, "this is basically part of your job to go through this."

     "Well, I'm sorry, but I don't ever remember even signing up for this job," she retored, "much less reading the job description."

     "Just do it," he muttered.

     "You don't get to tell me what to do," she told him.

     "Don't I?" Ryerson said, arching his eyebrow.

     "You don't," she repeated. His blue-green eyes bored into her.

     "I told you that I didn't mean it. You don't have to make such a big deal about it-"

      "I'm not," she said, pulling out of his grip. He kept a tight grip but she slipped out with ease. She wasn't weak. She wasn't going to melt in his arms or become putty at his attention or touch, she wouldn't allow herself to do that.

     "Don't talk back to me-"

     "And what are you going to do?" she asked, sassily.

     "You don't know what I can do," he threatened.

      "Oh, I think I know quite a lot about you and what you can do," she said to him, "for starters, you can get us out of this mess, simply by, I don't know, threatening the Carl dude like I've seen you do with others. Why the hell are you not doing that?" because I'm enjoying this, Ryerson retorted mentally.

     "Just don't argue, and we'll get through this faster," he told her lowly. 

      After a few seconds Lyla sighed, she didn't look at him, only shook her head and walked to Carl. In no time they were in 'position'. They were standing close together, Lyla had her elbows on his shoulders, standing on her toes, her fingers starting to scratch the back of his neck lightly. Their faces were a mere inch away but she still wouldn't meet his eyes. Ryerson had his arms wrapped comfortably around her waist, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles on the curve of her hips.

     "Will you stop that?" Lyla hissed at him, throwing him a brief glare. Out of annoyance, which he kind of felt bad for (technically this was all his fault), he turned to her.

     "I apologized, goddamn it," Ryerson muttered in her ear. He expected Lyla to throw a glare at him but instead after a second she just gave a tired sigh. Out of instinct he held her tighter, holding her closer. Still she didn't look any more relaxed, she didn't throw a glare at him, she just looked ready to break down. Why?

      Lyla just wanted to be alone, in her comfy clothes, preferably asleep, or just simply alone, out of others' sight, maybe in the bathroom, and to actually get work down she would've taken her textbooks in there as well. Most probably trying to drown herself in her studies, after all, it was the only way she ended up getting good marks and successfully keeping her personal life out of the business. 

      Lyla was just tired of dealing with this man she had to call her husband. Why was it so hard for him to understand that when someone says that, it's not easy to forget how much ever the person apologized? Not to mention, the dude didn't even properly apologize.

      "Mrs. Reeds," Carl called from behind the camera, it took her a second to process that he was referring to her, "please place your lips on Mr. Reeds neck and your hands in his hair properly." Lyla just did what he ordered without any thoughts or arguments. She tilted her head, placing her cherry red lips on his neck, her hands now completely into his soft brown hair.

      Ryerson stilled. 

      Shit.

       God, this was tormenting. Ryerson could feel himself start blushing from his chest throughout his body as Lyla placed her lips on his neck. He hoped she wouldn't be able to feel his pulse. He could feel his ears tint pink but he simply held her closer, damn his brain. It always went somewhere when she was there.

      After that there were many more shots that Lyla would have a nightmare remembering. It really had taken the whole day, they had gotten to the place Lyla was now forced to call home at 7:30 PM. 

       She had immediately hopped into the shower; she was the type to take her time in the shower. She just stood there, keeping all the lights in the bathroom off, trying to forget everything now that it was dark and she had cold water running over her. It was disappointing that there was always a part of her brain that reminded her that she would have to go out there again. Lyla sighed. But then again, what could she do? This was her freaking life now. 

       And she couldn't have been more ashamed. 

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