JANE POV
"I do."
Andrew's face was unreadable when he remained silent.
He replied in a cold, icy voice: "I will do it." There was applause in the hall. The priest smiled friendlily. "You can kiss the bride now."
I tensed up. Andrew's expression was unreadable as he faced me. For a moment, I believed he would just ignore the custom. Instead, he leaned closer.
His lips were vibrant, cold, and barely touched.
It was only for a moment, but he put on his heels and went down the hallway without waiting for me.
I had a sharp pain in my chest. I was nothing to him, even on the day of our wedding.
A lavish but impersonal celebration was held.
A gentle violin melody was performed in the background in a golden chandelier that illuminated the giant hall.
Everyone in the room was wearing elegant and affordable clothes and the air was filled with roses and champagne scents when we roasted our "happiness". However, after I got married, I felt alienated.
Instead of rejoicing, Andrew stayed out of the way, talking business.
I sat alone at an elegant table, grinning at the guests who controlled me, but I honestly didn't feel any comments.
One woman insisted, "You must be thrilled," while grasping my hand with real concern.
I feigned a courteous grin.
"Of course." She went on to say, "Andrew is an incredible man,"
"Yes, cold, but strong. He achieves his goals. An uncontrollable chill went through my body.
I was aware of that beforehand. Just like clockwork, Andrew showed up next to me.
He placed his hands firmly on my waist and muttered "excuses" in a strict tone.
He led me past my guests, through the gorgeous doors, through empty corridors without saying anything else.
Confused, I turned to face him.
"What are you—" "Listen carefully, Jane." His blue eyes were dark with something unreadable, and his voice was low.
"You are now my wife. However, this marriage should not be misunderstood.
I took a deep breath. "And what exactly is it?"
"A contract. Nothing more. Heat rose in my chest as I tightened my fists.
"A contract where I'm expected to be your wife in public but nothing to you in private?"
He clenched his jaw. "Exactly."
I laughed resentfully. "So why do you even get married to me?
How about we wait for Clare?
Something flared in his face, something unreadable, at the mention of her name. Flatly, "Clare made her choice," he remarked.
"And now, so have you." Though I knew it wouldn't matter to him, I wanted to protest and tell him that I had no other option and that my only purpose in being here was to save my mother.
Andrew Jackson was a self-centered individual who didn't care about anything else. But why, when I brought up Clare, did I notice that glimmer of something?
He leaned in a little before I could continue. In a cautionary manner, not an intimate one.
"I have one rule, Jane."
He spoke in a cold tone. "Do not betray me."
I got a chill from something in his voice. He was alerting me. Threatening me. And I was truly afraid for the first time since this marriage started.
I sat by myself in the enormous apartment that became my home later that evening.
The ceremony was complete, the guests had gone, and Andrew had disappeared into his study without a word.
I rubbed my fingers across the expensive silk of my wedding dress, feeling like a phony in my own life.
This was not a fairy tale. It was a gilded cage. A tap on the door startled me. Frank, Andrew's best friend, was standing there as I looked around.
Despite our brief encounter at the wedding, he was friendly and unlike Andrew. "Hey," he remarked as he entered. "I wanted to see how you were doing. You appeared to be lost.
I exhaled. "That obvious?"
He laughed. "Only to someone who knows how to look past the perfect facade." I felt lighter and safer just being around him. I gave a little smile.
"Thank you." After examining me for a while, Frank started talking.
It's challenging to collaborate with Andrew. But you don't have to deal with this alone.
My lip was a bit. "Why are you being nice to me?" "Because I know what it's like to feel trapped."
His remarks lingered between us. I did not ask him what he intended to do, but I appreciated his openness.
He began to go but stopped at the door. "If you need someone you can speak to, I'm here," he nodded as his chest warmed.
"Goodnight, Frank." He smiled at me a little and walked away down the hall. I didn't feel totally alone that night for the first time.
I froze, though, when I turned back to my bedroom.
Andrew remained in the shadows, watching. His unyielding exterior was obscured by his dark, calculating blue eyes. I took a deep breath.
Did he hear everything?
Was he aware that Frank was looking at me?
There was an ominous, unsaid presence in the air. Then he turned and vanished into the night, without saying anything.
I felt a cold run through me. I suspected Andrew Jackson would not tolerate disloyalty. Whether I intended it or not, I had just turned my own husband against me.
Despite the fact that you are my wife, don't expect love from me.
Andrew's comments cut through the thick silence of our bedroom like a blade.
I didn't move from the luxurious flat, standing still with my bridal gown still adorned on me, a veil on the floor beside me.
The softly gleaming chandelier illuminated the tranquil dark mahogany walls.
The area shrouded in white silk sheets looked to encompass far more strife than romance. My partner, If I may state that, Andrew, was beside the window.
His broad frame was rigid with his back to me. He looked as composed as he had at the ceremony, even if he had misplaced his tie and tuxedo jacket.
I inhaled deeply. "I never asked for love." Then he turned to face me, his piercing blue eyes.
"Good," he replied bluntly. "Because you won't get it."