Bound To You

Chapter 5

Juan

Valeria took my hand, her eyes flickering over to my parents, then the band, indication enough that we would have to keep up the show until we were inside. Sure enough, as we began walking down the pathway to the front doors, our parents spotted us. I could see my dad about to question us when Valeria called 'goodnight' to both of them. They relaxed and waved at us, which we returned, and continued on their walk. I matched her leisure pace, letting her take the lead since she clearly knew how to do this better than I did.

Once we were inside the living room, she turned to me. "Where are we supposed to be sleeping?" she asked. I blinked. She got along so well with my family that I'd forgotten this was the first time she'd set foot in our house.

"Uh, my room, I suppose," I said. There hadn't been any specific discussions on the topic of where we were to sleep, so my room seemed like the most likely option.

I led her up two flights of stairs and down the hallway on the left to the last and largest set of double doors. I pushed the doors, watching her reaction as they swung open silently to reveal my suite.

Not that it mattered what she thought. Just . . . I was curious. Why? No idea.

She took my room in, her jaw dropping open for about three seconds before she snapped it shut. I fought to keep the smirk off my face.

We stepped into the blue-walled room, the gold, gilded furniture gleaming in the soft yellow light from the lamps in the four corners of my room. This was the living area, the set of oak doors on the right leading to the bedroom with an attached bathroom. The kitchen was hidden from sight, also connected to the bedroom, and quite possibly my favourite room in the entire house.

She took in the cushioned couches and armchairs, the oval glass table in the centre, and the enormous black fireplace lit with a merry, crackling fire. The gold curtains and the bookshelves lining the walls.

Her eyes sparkled when she catalougued that last one. "Bookworm?" I asked. "Oh you have no idea," she said, so earnestly that I couldn't help my grin. She grinned back at me, then took a deep breath. Then walked over to the couch and sank into the right end.

I took a seat on the other end, then flicked my eyebrows up expectantly. She took another deep breath, thought for a minute, then said, "First off, I'm not going to be the nuisance you think I am."

For the third time today, despite my resolve that I would be sullen about this whole thing and make it absolutely clear to my parents that I hated what they were forcing me to do, I smiled. "Okay . . ."

"I know you probably think that I am going to tail you, force you to give me attention, and fully expect you to act like a doting, devoted husband."

Well damn. She'd hit bullseye.

My face must've said as much because she snorted. "Yeah, no," she drawled, rolling her eyes.

Against my will, I was liking her more every second.

"Here's what I propose," she said, scanning my face to see whether I was intrigued, or at the very least, receptive. I was both.

"I know that this situation is absolutely ridiculous. But, on the whole, I like it. Mainly because I can . . . take a break from my family," she said. "You've seen how they are," I gave her a look that said Oh I saw alright, which made her laugh, "so you know they aren't exactly the easiest people to live with. My mother's whole agenda, ever since I was six, was to get me married. I have received all kinds of training on how to be a good wife and mother, all the kinds you could possibly think of, so now that she's gotten what she wanted, I think she might leave me alone.

"You and I obviously don't know each other, but I'd like us to be friends if that's okay with you. We don't have to do the whole love thing. This marriage was performed because our families needed each other as allies. So, let's be allies. I'll check in with you every morning, every night, and a couple of times throughout the day to see if you're alive and well, and I ask you to return the favour. We get to know each other a little because family and friends from both sides are going to be poking their nose into our marriage, and see how we're getting along. I don't want to be completely clueless about who you are. And other than that, we are completely free to do our own thing.

"So, what I'm proposing is, let be friends. There are no martial obligations that I want you to fulfill. No devoted husband bullshit. I'm sure you have no interest in a wife. Just be my friend, and I'll be yours, and we'll enjoy our own lives."

I sat and stared. And stared. And stared some more.

She kept silent, sensing that I needed time to process it.

A whole minute passed before I finally blinked. "Okay," I said, my surprise clear in my voice.

"You really mean it?"

"Yes."

"Enjoy our own lives?"

"Yes."

"Separately?"

"Yes."

"So you have no problem if I go out with my friends, party late into the night, probably don't show up till the morning after? If I just disappear for long periods of time?"

"Nope."

"Even if I sleep with other women?"

She scrunched her nose. I found it more adorable than I should have. "No, I don't mind that, but please don't bring them back here. I'd rather not be scarred for life."

I gaped at her. "You really have no problem if I sleep with other women?"

"Juan," she said exasperatedly, as though I was the crazy one. "What part of friends don't you understand? You are completely free to do whatever you want. This marriage was flung upon both of us out of the blue. Neither of us chose this! So I want it to affect our lives as little as possible. You don't have to give up your lifestyle for me. We might be stuck with each other, but we don't have to be shackled to each other. We don't have to change our respective lifestyles just because we were forced into marriage by our parents, not if we don't want to. So all I'm saying, Juan, is that you are free to do whatever  you want because we might be married on paper, but I'm not really your wife."

Okay. That made sense. This was turning out to be better than I thought.

"So. Do we have an agreement?" she asked.

I smirked. "Yes, Valeria, we have an agreement. Would you like to shake on it?"

She returned my smirk. It was surprisingly delicious, the perfect mix of sassy, sarcastic, and devilish. I hadn't expected that last one.

She held out her hand. I slid mine into hers. And as we shook on it, a tentative truce took form.