Chapter 4
I nodded softly. "Thank you."
I picked up my fork and couldn't help but remark in a low voice, "You're always so composed, Mr. Graham."
No matter how tense or embarrassing things got, he always managed to carry everyone through with grace.
Jordan chuckled softly. "Probably just comes with the job."
He met my gaze, then shifted gears.
"There's an art exhibition at the city museum tomorrow. Want to go and take your mind off things?" Jordan asked.
I froze for a moment, my fork suspended halfway to my mouth.
"Do they have any Pre-Raphaelite works?" I asked.
That was a pretty obscure art style. Not many people even knew about it.
Jordan paused for a moment.
His eyes warmed with an even deeper smile. "Yes, and they're originals."
I was about to ask him something else.
A cold, hard voice came crashing over from the main table. "Vivian."
I turned around.
Across the noisy hall, I could feel Brennen's attention fixed on me.
Brennen stood there with a wine glass in hand, staring right at me from across the hall.
"What's so funny? What are you two talking about?" he called out.
His tone sounded casual, but the questioning was obvious.
The attention at the main table zeroed in on me, making the air feel heavy.
Cheyanne's smile stiffened.
I met Brennen's icy, stormy gaze head-on, keeping my voice calm as I said, "Nothing, just chatting."
Brennen's jaw was set in a hard line.
His eyes were sullen.
I ignored him and turned away.
I grabbed a spicy side dish and ate it.
The spice hit my throat hard.
I covered my mouth, coughing like crazy.
Jordan slid a glass of water over to me.
His fingers were long and clean, knuckles sharp and distinct.
He was careful not to touch the part of the glass where my hand would go.
Jordan said, "Take it slowly."
I took the glass from him and tried to wash down the burning in my throat.
My cheeks flushed from the fit of coughing.
The stares from the main table made the air feel thin, almost suffocating under their gaze.
I set the glass down and stood up.
"Sorry, I need to use the restroom," I said.
*****
The hallway was dimly lit.
I'd just washed my face with cold water, and the coolness still lingered on my fingertips.
The moment I turned the corner, a forceful grip seized my wrist.
Before I could make a sound,
I was pulled into a dark, empty corridor.
My back hit the icy wall, sending a jolt through me.
The familiar cedarwood scent filled the air, pressing in close.
Brennen pressed one hand against the wall beside my ear.
His tall frame blocked out the faint light from the hallway.
He towered over me, radiating the same dominance he'd wielded over me for three years.
He stared at me.
His eyes were those of a predator sizing up its prey, triggering a visceral sense of repulsion deep inside me.
I used to think he was someone I could count on.
Now, it just felt ridiculous.
"Let go," I said.
I shoved his chest, trying to push him away.
My voice carried clear resentment.
The suit beneath my palm felt rigid, just like Brennen himself—cold, rigid, and utterly unreasonable.
Brennen didn't budge.
He leaned in even closer, using my resistance as leverage, his presence suffocating.
"Have you caused enough trouble?" Brennen said, his voice barely above a whisper, cold and sharp.
"You deliberately sat away from the main table and acted like I didn't exist right in front of the elders," Brennen said. "Vivian, do you really have to go against me in front of the elders?"
He let go of the wall and pulled a small pill case from his pocket.
He held it out to me and said, "Take this hangover pill."
His tone was careless, like he was doing me a favor he couldn't care less about.
For the past three years, he never changed.
He'd hurt me and then offer some trivial gesture as if it made up for everything.
And I actually endured his emotional abuse for so long, just for those crumbs of affection.
Staring at that pill, all I could think was how absurd this was.
With a flick of my hand, I knocked the pill case away.
It tumbled into the darkness, clattering sharply as it hit the floor.
Brennen froze, his hand still hanging in the air.
His eyes darkened, anger pooling there in an instant.
"Not dignified enough for you, is it?" he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Putting on a pitiful act in front of the family," he said. "And then you go making eyes at Jordan. Vivian, your whole 'hard to get' act is getting lamer by the day."
I wasn't angry, and I didn't have the slightest urge to explain.
I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Brennen, do you really think the whole world revolves around you?"
Even I was surprised at how calm my voice was.
"You hand me a pill, and I'm supposed to act like I owe you everything?" I said. "You stand up for Cheyanne, and I'm just supposed to take it lying down?
"You've been looking down on me for three years. Did you really think I'd spend my whole life groveling at your feet?"
Brennen's brows drew together in a tight frown.
"From the very beginning, our marriage was kept secret. We had a contract," he said.
His tone was cold, as if he were just stating a fact.
"To me, marriage is just a contract," he added.