Chapter 8 - Benedikt

I wanted to believe everything was going well, given how Gemma was still seated at the table, but as I glanced over at her, there was no mistaking how on edge she seemed.

In general, the family was polite and included her in conversations wherever they could, asking her the occasional, non-invasive question, but I could tell she wasn’t completely comfortable. At least, she seemed guarded.

Since I still didn’t know her all that well myself, I didn’t exactly have an emotional attachment to her yet, but I could still feel somewhat guilty about her discomfort. I did drag her here, after all. And right after our impromptu ceremony, no less.

Ever since childhood, growing up without a mother around for most of it instilled this longing in me to have a wife one day and provide that presence for my future children. Regardless of never putting much effort in to achieve that, I suppose I still knew in the back of my mind that my life would move in that direction eventually.

However, I never thought there would be quite so much emotional distance between me and my wife. I thought, at the very least, we would have something in common to tie us together—a spark that would make all the difficult things easier to deal with.

But I could only blame myself for that lack of foresight.

In an ideal world, Gemma would go along with my plans more willingly, and I wouldn’t have to force her into anything. Things would feel natural, as if she had been waiting for me all along, as I had been for her.

Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about that anymore.

It was a shame, too. I thought she was gorgeous, especially while she sat next to me at that table under the low, ambient lights. When she did manage to smile, even if faintly, I’d catch myself wishing she’d do it again.

I wasn’t a softy—no, not at all. Yet there was still a piece of me that wished she didn’t assume I was an awful man, even if I had done something as audacious as forcing her into marrying me.

I felt written off before I could really prove myself, and while we surely still had years ahead of us, it seemed like a losing battle already.

Although, it was a strange thought. I didn’t know why I wanted to prove myself to her in the first place. I’d never really had to do that before, and it felt like a foreign concept.

Perhaps there was a part of me that wanted her approval, even if it went against the grain of my habits.

As our plates were eventually brought out, I found I'd lost my appetite as mine was placed in front of me, regardless of how hungry I had previously been. Even so, I didn’t make it obvious and got started anyway.

To my side, however, Gemma seemed even less enticed as she cut into her meat, and more pushed it around for a bit than anything.

“Gemma, what do you do for work?” Lara eventually asked, keeping the mood light whenever she addressed her.

I watched as she straightened slightly and prepared to speak. “I’m an intern at a local paper.”

My sister brightened at that slightly. “Oh, a journalist. I hear it’s a competitive field, you must be very ambitious.”

At the mention of her career, Gemma seemed to ease into the conversation a bit. “Yes, it’s a requirement to keep up with the fast-paced environment. News is short-lived.”

“That it is.”

“Ben here should take a page out of your book,” Ari commented with the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. “He doesn’t know much about ‘fast-paced’ anything.”

At his words, I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Still, the comment at least roused a small sound of amusement from Gemma along with the others, so I didn’t mind the jab being at my expense as much. It seemed like a start, anyway.

“I prefer calling it selective participation,” I mused with a shrug as I took a sip from my wine. It wasn’t my typical poison, but I wasn’t going to complain.

“That’s what you say right before passing your work onto me to absolve yourself,” Lukyan chided.

The others laughed, shaking their heads.

“He has a point, you know,” Ari confirmed, much to my dissatisfaction.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” I said, trying to shake off their teasing without seeming like a poor sport.

Lara snickered. “I just love it when Ben is in the hot seat for once.”

I could’ve gone away after the relentless teasing, but catching the slight smile on Gemma’s face made it all worth it, even if I wasn’t exactly fond of admitting that.

As dinner continued, my family didn’t do too terribly at smoothing over the transition for her, and I was grateful to see her relaxing more in their company. She didn’t do a whole lot of talking, but I couldn’t exactly blame her. With as many siblings as I had, all with fairly strong personalities, it was difficult to get a word in on a good day.

But all in all, as everything wrapped up, it wasn’t that bad.

As we got in the car and headed back to the house, I was feeling better about everything, yet I couldn’t help but notice Gemma’s silence.

She had seemed to open up a bit more around my family, but when it was only the two of us, there was a noticeable shift in her demeanor. She reverted to how she was before as she sat quietly in the passenger seat, keeping her mouth closed.

The radio played quietly between us, and while it was no surprise to me that she wasn’t speaking, it started to grate at me anyway.

I couldn’t tell if she was silently mulling over something, or if she was giving me the silent treatment, but either way, the quiet was getting to me.

After a moment, I cleared my throat. “Dinner went well.”

For a beat, I half expected her to speak up, but she kept silent. After a moment, I tried again.

“The family can be a bit much, but they know not to go too far.”

Still, Gemma said nothing.

Forced to sit there in silence while she refused to speak to me, my blood boiled, and I just wished she would say something—anything. Whether she knew it or not, she was infuriating, and while I was irritated, I couldn’t help but think that I deserved it.

Keeping my mouth shut for the rest of the drive, I let the radio fill the quiet space between us, and while I wanted to just let it go, I couldn’t.

I didn’t know why.

Whether it was the very idea that she would choose to protest me in silence, or because I could feel the solid foundation of my plan falling apart, I couldn’t stand the idea of her maintaining that guard around me, regardless of how valid it was.

She was getting under my skin by doing nothing at all, and that made it all seem worse.

Eventually, we pulled up to the house and went in, not speaking a word to each other. But as the side door closed and we found ourselves in the kitchen, I couldn’t take it.

“Alright, what’s going on?”

Gemma stopped in her tracks before she could get too far, and she turned around with her brows knit together. She still didn’t utter a word, even in her confusion.

I huffed out a breath and took a step toward her. “Why won’t you say a word to me? You haven’t said a thing since we left the restaurant.”

She held my gaze with an incredulous look. “Why won’t I talk to you? That’s what you’re worried about?”

While the way she put it made my question sound outrageous, I doubled down and nodded as I adjusted my cuff. “Yes. Just trying to have a conversation is the least you could do.”

That bewilderment in her eyes deepened as she looked at me. A quiet scoff passed her lips. “After everything you put me through in the last twenty-four hours, you’re concerned about whether or not I’ve spoken to you enough?”

While staring back at her, feeling invalidated in my need for at least the semblance of a connection, I stood my ground. “We’re married now, and there’s nothing either of us can do about it. We might as well get used to things and at least try to make this situation into a positive one.”

As much as I was trying to put a hopeful spin on it, Gemma wasn’t having it. She studied my face for a long moment before shaking her head in disbelief. “You do not get to tell me how to think and feel about all of this. You have no idea what this is like for me.”

“Is it really pure torture to live in this house? To wear name-brand clothes, dine at expensive restaurants, and have everything taken care of?” I questioned her, raising my voice.

“I never asked for any of that! I was perfectly fine living my life as it was, but you came along and shot that down,” Gemma yelled back at me, not even flinching. It was clear her thoughts came from a genuine place of hurt. “You did this to me—you!”

Gritting my teeth, my skin burned as I looked down at her, feeling as my blood boiled.

She was making me furious with how she spoke to me. How she didn’t back down or cower away. Instead, she aired it all out, letting me know exactly what I did wrong.

While I wanted to be furious with her and put her back in her place, there was something about that fire in her that intrigued me. It stirred a new kind of fascination I had never known before, and despite her face being twisted in anger, I couldn’t shake how sexy she looked.

Maybe it was the way she stood up for herself, or how she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, but something about it had me wishing I could touch her.

That longing became overwhelming at once as desire dripped into my system.

She was my wife. Even if our new marriage was built on nothing at all, that thought alone was enough to stoke that want inside my chest.

Gemma took several deep, angry breaths as she looked at me. “You took me from that club, hell-bent on destroying my life. You brought me here against my will, forced me to marry you this morning, and then dragged me to meet your family as if everything was normal. You’re making me sound like the crazy one. And to top it all off, you nearly ruined the one thing I had going for me!”

I grit my teeth at that and allowed my tone to drop somewhat as I shook my head, trying to combat that yearning within me. “But I didn’t. I didn’t take your internship away—you can still go.”

“The fact that you have to give me permission to go to work is not helping your case,” Gemma uttered, taking a step closer as she jabbed a finger against my chest. “But I suppose you want a gold star for being so generous, right?”

At the end of my rope with her, I latched a hand around her wrist and stopped her from poking me. While not rough enough to cause any pain, I kept my grip secure, catching her by surprise as I slowly closed the space between us.

Instinctively, Gemma backed up as she swallowed hard, eyes locked on mine until she bumped into the kitchen island with nowhere else to go. Startled, she didn’t say anything.

Looking down at her, I continued to narrow the space between us. Releasing her wrist, I caged her to the counter with my hands pressed against the surface on either side of her.

From there, I couldn’t miss the subtle shiver that moved through her, blinking through a stupor at me.

With the near-suffocating proximity as I lowered my face closer to hers, all that fire seemed to snuff out at once, and as much as I was sure she wanted to look away, she never did. Those green eyes were wide with shock and a hint of interest, despite how she tried to hide it.

“Is it such a crime to wish my wife would speak to me?” I asked her, voice low and betraying the lust as it filled my system. “Don’t forget, Gemma. You were the one who walked into that club and asked for me.”

With the slightest hint of teasing in my voice, I watched as Gemma’s chest rose and fell, resembling a near-panicked animal again. As much as I enjoyed her fire, something was endearing about that helplessness in her eyes. How she couldn’t pull away or find the right words.

Even if we had major hurdles to clear before we could ever have a genuine connection, there was something in me that hoped for more. That hoped my plan wasn’t all for nothing.

Towering over her with my mouth inches from hers, a rush of excitement ran down my back from the way she looked at me.

She could hate me all she wanted and try to resist me, but I knew it was futile. I watched how her eyes tattled on her as they flickered from my gaze down to my lips in a quick, frantic sweep.

It was enough to make the corner of my mouth turn up.

Slowly, as if to not startle her, I brought a hand up as I leaned above her, and ever-so-gently stroked her cheek with the back of my finger, letting it just barely glide down to her jaw.

Gemma’s breath hitched, and I knew I had her right where I wanted her.

Unable to take it anymore, I closed the space between us and captured her lips with mine, hand falling to her waist.

Something in me was half afraid she might try to wriggle away, or even slap me for crossing a line.

But to my surprise, as if she had been waiting for it all along, Gemma eased into the embrace and placed a hand against my chest.

Instinctively, I reached down to squeeze the voluptuous curves of her hips, already addicted to how plush and soft she felt beneath me. So much of her to touch and hold—to worship as I longed to.

At the faint moan that escaped her lips, I smirked into the kiss.

It seemed I had been right about my fiery little wife after all.