Beyond(8)

The tightening of my chest tells me that if he did, I wouldn’t like it.





Chapter Five





“Mama said you were getting married,” Regan says, his cute face frowning. “I thought one day you could marry me.”

I bite my lip, not wanting to hurt the feelings of a seven-year-old. “That’s a nice thought Regan. But trust me, when you’re eighteen, there will be much nicer women to pick from than me.”

He puffs his chest out. “I will always be nice to you Olivia.”

My heart warms. “I know Regan. You’re going to be a good man.”

I look down at the game of chess we were playing and make my move. When a shadow casts over the board, I look up into a pair of hazel eyes I was dreaming about last night.

“Dane,” I say, nodding my head.

“Olivia,” he says in that low voice of his. He turns to Regan. “Hello little one.”

Regan scowls. “I’m seven.”

Dane smiles widely. “Are you now?”

“Yes and one day I’m going to marry Olivia. Not you.”

Dane’s eyes widen, before he looks at me, amusement etched all over his face. “I see I have some competition.”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t want me, remember? You have no competition because you’re stuck with me.”

Dane rubs the back of his neck. “And here I thought we made some leeway last night.”

I narrow my eyes. “I can’t help but be suspicious over why you’re being nice to me.”

Regan stands, and I realize I shouldn’t have said anything in front of him. I give him a warm smile. “Can we finish this game later Regan?”

He nods. “Okay Olivia.”

Dane offers his hand and I take it, and let him lead me inside. “You play chess with kitchen ladies’ kids?”

“Why not?” I ask, watching his expression.

“You’re just full of surprises is all.”

“That’s right, you think I’m some spoiled bratty high maintenance princess,” I mutter, letting him bring me to a stop as we pass a bench.

We sit down and face each other. “Where did you hear that?”

“Remember, I told you I overhead you and Lars talking one day,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

His eyes widen with realization. “So you did. And that’s why you’re so bitchy towards me. I thought we were starting over. You need to let that go.”

I drop my arms and scowl at him. “Have you never spoken to a woman before?”

He had no filter. He just said whatever popped up in his head. It was infuriating.

“When I’m with a woman we usually aren’t talking,” he replies, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I groan, covering my face with my hands.

He removes them, holding them in his. “Ah come on. I’m not that bad. You’ll benefit from my experience.”

“You don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

“You aren’t very ladylike are you?” he counters. “I was told you were the epitome of a lady.”

“Well my father lied. Now what did you want Dane?”

“Who said I want something?” he asks, leaning back and studying me.

I stare him down, not saying anything.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I need something.”

“Of course you do,” I mutter, pulling my hands out of his. “What is it?”

He opens his mouth then closes it. Hesitantly, he finally says what’s on his mind. “I need you to not be angry or make things harder on me.”

I still. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugs sheepishly. “I’m heading out, I won’t be back for about three weeks.”

“What’s so important that you’ll be gone that long? Wait, what about our wedding?” I ask, shaking my head in confusion.

“That’s the thing,” he says. “Lars is going to stand in for me.”

I stand up, my hands clenching. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

He swallows. “I’m sorry Olivia I have to go, and your father said I couldn’t push the wedding back. So he said a stand in would work fine.”

He was getting someone to stand in for him at our wedding. Was he serious right now? I wanted to kill him. I imagine my hands around his thick neck.

“Why don’t we just get married now then?”

Or not at all.

“I asked him that too. Your dress is being made. Some fancy shit. Apparently you deserve a nice dress to marry in.”

His tone screams what he thinks of me.

High maintenance.

“Fuck the dress,” I snap. “You’re going to make your friend be my first kiss? Fuck you Dane. Maybe I’ll just stay married to Lars and let him share my bed.”

“If you want Lars dead,” he replies, in a cold, deadly tone. “No one else touches you, you hear me?”

I gape at him. “You have something wrong with you, don’t you? First you don’t want me now you’re acting possessive? What is your deal?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “It doesn’t matter what I want. You’re my wife. You’re mine. And I protect what’s mine, Olivia. And I don’t f*cking share.”