The Unwanted Marriage: Dion and Faye’s Story (The Windsors)

I watch Faye’s fingers move across the keys at a fascinating speed, a melody I don’t recognize filling the air between us. She’s yet to notice me standing in her piano room, and I take a moment to study her.

She’s most beautiful when she’s losing herself in her music. From where I’m standing, I notice her straight back, that dainty waist I love wrapping my hands around, and her beautiful long neck.

I’ve never noticed a woman’s neck before, yet I’m noticing it when it’s Faye. Every inch of her is breathtaking in an understated yet incredibly powerful way. Her beauty is the kind that makes you take note, that makes you lose your courage, because how could anyone ever stand a chance with someone like her?

Her eyes fall closed, and she smiles as the melody changes, the notes mellowing in a comforting way. It hits me then — she isn’t the only one who’s smiling.

For years, I couldn’t stand to hear the sound of a piano, because it reminded me of my mother, and that, in turn, triggered the guilt I have yet to overcome. When did the sound of a piano become something I attributed to Faye, and not my mother? When did I begin to enjoy it again?

Faye sighs when she lifts her fingers off the ivories, the last note still ringing through the air. That satisfaction on her face… fuck. Does she have any idea how fucking sexy she looks right now?

I bite my bottom lip in an effort to suppress the sudden desire I feel, but it’s to no avail. I can’t stop the images that come to mind of her in my bed, that same satisfied smile on her lips, her body thoroughly satiated.

She tenses when she finally spots me, her eyes widening in shock. “Dion? What are you doing here?”

I’ve never visited her at home before, and I can tell she’s flustered. I didn’t think she could get any more beautiful, but that rosy blush does it. “I’m here to pick you up.”

She slowly rises from her bench, her expression turning guarded. Even at home, she’s perfectly dressed in the kind of outfit my sister would wear to work. Does she have plans today that I’m ruining? I’m the one who enforced the distance between us, but now I find myself curious about her. How does she spend her days? Clearly, practicing takes up most of her time, but what else does she do? What is it that makes her smile after a tough day?

She walks toward me, and I meet her halfway, my heart warming. I haven’t seen her without heels in years, and I forgot just how tiny she is. Fucking adorable.

For a single moment, I wonder what it’ll be like to have her legs wrapped around my waist, her body pressed against the wall as I push into her. She’s so fucking tiny… I’d tear her apart.

“Pick me up?” she repeats, confused. “What for? I’m so sorry. I wasn’t informed that I was expected anywhere. I can get ready in no time. I won’t keep you waiting for long.”

“Hawaii,” I tell her, shrugging apologetically. “My grandmother informed me that you are to accompany us on our family trip to Hawaii. I’m as surprised as you are, to be honest. As it turns out, my grandmother royally screwed over Luca and Val, and now she’s forcing us all to go on this family trip in some kind of misguided attempt to fix her wrongs.” I shake my head and take a deep breath. “Honestly, most of the time, it’s best not to wonder what goes on in my grandmother’s mind. It’s easiest to just do as she says. So here I am, picking you up.”

Her eyes are twinkling, almost as though we’re in on a secret together, and then she smiles. Fuck. Surely she knows what she does to me when she smiles like that? “Path of least resistance, huh?” she murmurs. “I know a thing or two about that.”

She turns and walks out of her piano room, looking over her shoulder once to see if I’m following her. She seems more at ease around me, but the distance between us still feels unsurmountable most days.

Faye is quiet as she leads me up the stairs, and my gaze drops to her ass. Those fucking curves… goddamn. Was she always this beautiful?

“How long will we be away?” she asks, looking over her shoulder again.

I clear my throat awkwardly, worried she just caught me checking her out. While I haven’t exactly hidden my desire for her, I don’t want her to find me leering at her like some sort of fucking pervert either. “I was told to pack for three days, but you’d better pack for at least a week. I have no doubt my grandmother will keep us there until Luca and Val forgive her.”

She nods and walks into her bedroom, and I follow her in, unable to suppress my curiosity. Her room is decorated beautifully, but it’s devoid of personality. There are no photos or little trinkets that would tell me anything about her, and something about that just seems off. This might as well have been a hotel room. Even minimalists have a couple of personal items in their living spaces. If nothing else, shouldn’t she have had a photo of her mother?

I watch her carefully as she packs. I expected her to question me about Luca and Val, or the resort we’re going to, but instead she just moves quietly. I can never figure her out. She’s unlike any other woman I’ve ever known. She seems entirely unaffected by me, and it throws me off. It makes me want to get a rise out of her. She was never meant to intrigue me the way she does, and the worst part is that it isn’t even her intention to do so. She has absolutely no idea how often she’s on my mind these days.

Faye was never meant to be more than an unwanted trophy wife, someone who was forced on me, someone I never intended to care about. Yet here I am, wanting to know what makes her tick.

“Does my father know about this trip?” she asks suddenly, her voice faltering.

“Yes, my grandmother informed him,” I tell her as I take her suitcase from her. “He said he’d take care of your schedule.” Something about her tone doesn’t sit well with me. She’s always been meek in her father’s presence, and I’m only starting to realize how different she is when he isn’t around. Is he merely strict, or is there more to it?

A hint of unease runs down my spine as I think back to how intimidated and broken she always seemed, when she clearly comes alive when we’re alone. Something doesn’t add up there. She shouldn’t be more comfortable and outspoken with me than with her own family, especially considering our precarious relationship.

We’re both silent as I lead Faye to my car, and she hesitates when I hold the door open for her. I wonder whether she realizes what traveling with me will entail. I should probably tell her we’ll be sharing a room, but I’d much rather wait so I can see if her eyes will spit fire for me when she finds out. Something about riling her up just really makes my fucking day. It’s twisted and fucked up, but I can’t help myself.

That is what I’m worried about most. The way I can’t help myself around her. I can’t keep myself from wanting more of her than I deserve.