Grudgingly Yours (An Arranged Marriage fic)

Part 3

You removed your glasses and started massaging the knot in your temple that seemed to have lodged inside your head permanently. Exhaling a heavy sigh, you laid your head down on the table. It wouldn't be easy, you always knew that, but a part of you hadn't realized how much work would be needed to actually build a clinic in the neighbourhood you grew up in. And this assessment was only the first step! After you completed this, that's when the real work would begin.

Your phone vibrated and you reached out to grab it. It was the alarm you set to start getting ready for the dinner tonight. Fuck. Alistair was hosting a dinner for you and Billy, but you knew it was an excuse to check up on the two of you. You were already dreading it, imagining how stifling it would be. The last time you had met his family was at the wedding, and they had all looked at you like you were something to be afraid of. To them, you were the other – not rich, not white, not thin, and definitely not someone who was a part of the elite and affluent community they were a part of. And you would never be any of those things, so there was no point in trying to adjust your personality to fit in. Which was why you decided to go with a red jumpsuit to this dinner.

An hour later you were applying finishes touches to your makeup when you heard Billy's voice in the kitchen. He was talking to Anita, the woman who came to clean the apartment every day. You went to the door, eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Gwen's not gonna be around anymore, Anita," he explained.

His voice was gentle, lacking the heavy condescension that was usually directed at you.

"Good, I don't like her." The elder lady retorted. "She was very rude!"

He chuckled.

"And it's not right, you still bringing your girlfriends here when you're married now. What about your wife?"

"Who gives a fuck?"

Ah, there it was. The biting edge in his tone whenever you were mentioned. You headed out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen.

"She's a nice lady!" Anita chastised.

"She's a goddamn bitch."

"Talking about me again, sweetie?" You sauntered into the kitchen, wearing an amused smile.

Anita immediately looked embarrassed at being caught but not Billy. Dressed in a perfectly tailored light grey suit, the colour making his pitch black eyes appear even more prominent, he stared back at you with a smug expression. "Speak of the devil and she doth appear."

"Hush now, Billy," Anita admonished him.

"First a bitch, now the devil. What's next?"

"I've got some real sweet ones lined up. Just you wait." He quirked up his eyebrow, eyes regarding your outfit carefully. "It's black and white dress code."

You shrugged. "It's dinner with your family, not the fucking President."

Billy shook his head. "So hellbent on being a total fucking embarrassment."

"Billy, stop!" Anita turned to you, her cheeks a deep shade of crimson. "I'm so sorry-"

"It's fine, Anita. Not your fault. This is just how he likes to sweet-talk me."

He snickered. "In your fucking dreams."

"You look beautiful, Y/N," Anita said, giving you a warm smile. "Red really suits you."

"Thank you." While you walked over to the fridge to grab water, you sensed Billy watching you. When you turned around, his gaze shifted from you right away. If he didn't make his dislike of you so obvious, you would have wondered if he was checking you out. Maybe he was one of those assholes that put down thick women but had a secret fetish for them. Not that you found the notion remotely flattering, it was insulting really.