Will You Marry My Groom?

7

“Are you my driver or someone else is?” I asked Mike, making breakfast for everyone and of course definitely not Tristan.  

“Yes. I’d be so honored to drive you.” He said with a bow that caused a smile to appear on my face.

“I have to go to work today, my boss is so mad at me for taking such a long break.” 

“The boss' wife has a boss.” David chuckled, passing a glass of juice to Mike. 

I didn’t respond to him but finalized the meal while Mike took his leave to arrange for the car.

I had breakfast with David and a few other make workers at the dining table, chatting with them while eating. I was able to get along with them pretty well. They were so fun to be with and made me laugh, forgetting all of my worries. 

They all suddenly went silent for some reason and were gazing behind me like they had just seen a ghost. 

“Hazel,” Tristan’s voice, though it was gentle, startled the hell out of me.

I averted my gaze to him. Of course, his annoyingly handsome face had a dangerous glare on it. 

He glanced at the men then they immediately rose from the dining chairs and scuttled out of sight after a polite bow. 

“Why are you eating with the workers? You’re the wife of Tristan Hendrix and eating with them will—” he looked like realization just hit him, “— oh, I forgot, you’re also in their class.”

Once again, it felt like a bomb just exploded in my head due to the frustration of him constantly reminding me that I didn’t belong to his class of wealth. What was always wrong with these stupid rich people? None of the rich people I had ever come across were sensible and nice, they didn’t care about hurting your feelings and making you feel worthless, even that crazy Indy who still hadn't called me. 

I rose to my feet, pushing the chair backward loudly and started storming away. 

As I passed him, he held my arm to stop me. “I hate it when people walk away from me.” 

His hand on my skin sent a very chilly feeling to my soul. His touch felt so much better in real life than I had ever dreamed of but it still wasn’t able to quench the fire he had lit in me by constantly reminding me of the monster he truly was, someone that had no respect for a woman, a cruel and heartless devil.

“Let me go.” I said authoritatively, shooting deadly daggers at him from my hazel eyes. 

“Don’t walk away from me without my permission.” He said– more like warned me. 

“You have no right to make decisions over me.” 

“Hazel, you’re a—”

He was interrupted by a worker suddenly appearing out of nowhere. “I’m sorry for disturbing you but I was sent here to inform Mrs. Hendrix that the car is ready now.” He said, immediately taking his leave. 

“Car? Where are you going?” He looked confused. 

“To the bakery,”

“Why?” 

“I work at a bakery.” Why was I even explaining to him?

“Hazel,” he pulled me to stand in front of him, folding his arms across his chest. “Don’t forget you’re now my wife to the world. Tristan’s wife would never work at a bakery. Don’t go there anymore.”