Chapter 4
Mila.
"I now pronounce you. Mr and Mrs Briggs, you may kiss your bride," The registrar announced with an unusual enthusiasm, a bright smile on her face as her expression urged at us to carry out her demand.
I looked at the man seated next to me, my husband, he is now my husband. Wow, this is surreal.
He soon locked eyes with me, his gaze cold and empty like a windy night as he stared deep into the abyss my eyes were to him. I watched his head leaned towards my face as his soft gaze trailed downward to my lips.
"Sure thing," he mouthed before he pulled me in for a kiss all of a sudden.
I opened my lips up for him instinctively, awed at how he passionately weaved the kiss, his tongue thrust in range around my mouth and my lips locked into a rhythmic dance with his.
It was no tender kiss, but still his rich taste of lavender mixed with mints shadowed the roughness of how he handled and dominated the kiss.
He pulled away abruptly and adjusted himself back into his seat, "Can we have our certificate now?" He prompted at the registrar.
I smack my lips, relishing the taste of him as it lingered round my mouth.
The registrar gave him the packaged certificate, and he stretched it for me to collect. "What should I do with that?" I asked, hesitantly collecting the document.
He stood up, gave me a blank glance and began a stride towards the exit. What kind of a man is this? I quickly stood up and went after him.
"So your voice got super tired enough to tell me that you're leaving?" I scolded as I marched hurriedly to match his pace.
He said nothing and just kept going. Jokes on you not me universe! Cause you'rve given to me a robot to be my husband, when I thought he was some sort of a knight in a shiny suit.
I haven't known him that long, but long enough to observe that he operates like someone on battery. He's stone faced, and probably allergic to expressing more than one expression.
The only expression I've seen expressed more than once was that of disgust, and both were directed to me.
The first was when we first met, and the second when I complimented his look on our way here to the court. He expressed an utter irritation at me and said nothing.
He seems to be a man of few words, and a lover of solitude.
"Why did you marry me?" I refuse to remain silent, even though I know he won't reply or talk to me unless he feels like.
We entered his car, and while he fastened his seatbelt I grabbed the car keys he has already inserted into the car's keyhole to start the call.
"Put that back," he ordered coldly.
"You have to talk to me. What's next now that we're married? Why did you marry me? I don't know you, and I could really use some verbal insights from yourself on your background," I said to him, squeezing the key into my palm just so he won't be able to hijack if he intends to.
He sighed, as his emotionless eyes flicked over to me to devour my existence.
"Stick to your personal reason for accepting to be my bride and I'll stick to mine. My name is Dawson Briggs, and that's all you need to know. Right now we're leaving for my family's mansion, for I'm going to introduce you to them. You can either put back that key before the next five seconds, or you can greet our agreement bye. Which would you choose?"
This might be the first time I've heard him speak a whole paragraph, and somehow retained no triggered tone and rather kept to his stoic demeanor.
I inserted the key back into the hole. "You know you can be nice and not be like this for free." I rolled my eyes at him, "And why am I meeting with your family few seconds after becoming your wife?" Or was that why he offered to marry me?
"You'll know when you get there," was his plain response before he zoomed the car into motion as he rolled us down the road.
I sighed as my body pushed back into the seat. Letting my head take shade under my thoughts. I've disowned my father and cut myself off from his family, I wondered if he'd realize his wrongdoings and seek redemption.
I know for a fact that Gretta is delighted to have me out, and definitely the same for her kids. They've wanted me out since the moment they came into our lives.
Throughout the ride to Dawson's family house, we said nothing to each other. And the long ride soon came to an end when his car went through a gigantic metal gates.
He ran his car around the driveway, into a tunnel that led to garage with a loft. There was a man in suit waiting just by the stairs.
Dawson parked his car, unbuckled his seatbelt and proceeded to aboard. I did same and also got down.
"Wow!" I gasped when my eyes inspected the myriads of vehicles parked down here, shiny and an expensive beauty to behold.
"Mister Briggs, you're welcome. Might I ask about the maid you have here with you?"
My head snapped towards the butler when I heard the word he addressed me with.
"Go on up and tell everyone I have a news to share." Dawson didn't even bother to correct him, and instead just gave him an errand to execute. The man scurried off in the next second.
"Are you coming?" He glanced at me before he began ascending the stairs.
"That man called me a maid and you didn't correct him. If you can't call me your wife, at least tell him my name, don't stand mute and let people call me a maid. Even though I look like one," I told him as I climbed from behind.
"Oh but you're one. He's not wrong is he? You're a maid, weren't you?"
My brows furrowed, "Excuse me?"
"Let's excuse the fact that I know everything about you. Now buckle up, my family are not nice."
Huh? What does he know about me? Is it really abrupt that he asked me to become his wife or there was an agenda?
Is there a game in play here.
We arrived at the lobby, and I nearly tripped at the dozen of eyes taped up at me. Most of which were blank and simply intimidating, others stared with a creepy wickedness in their eyes.