"Caroline, I'm not dating anyone else, I'm engaged to you!" I practically barked at Caroline, standing in front of me.

It was barely nine in the morning and Caroline was already testing my patience. An online tabloid had posted an article with a picture taken months ago, before Caroline was even on my radar, with stories about my relationship with Georgia.

The last time I had seen Georgia was probably around the same time that that particular picture was taken, but Caroline insisted on making my life miserable by coming over and lecturing me about when I had absolutely no control over what they published.

This small, insignificant article had made it necessary for Caroline to get dressed and have her driver bring her to my home to question me about.

"Where did you meet her, Aiden?" Caroline demanded, stomping her foot like a child.

"Caroline, get this through to your head. I did not meet her, okay?" I explained, wanting to pull my hairs out, "You can even look in my closet. I don't even have that suit anymore!"

"I want to look at your phone," she said.

"Excuse me?!" I was flummoxed by her words.

We were fully grown adults and she wanted to check my phone, like we were in high school.

"Show me your phone!" she demanded, "I want to see what you have been talking to her about."

"I haven't spoken to Georgia in months," I said.

Caroline narrowed her eyes. "Why are you being so difficult, Aiden? If you have nothing to hide, just show me your phone."

"We're not children, Caroline. Take my word for it. I'm not cheating on my fiancée, do you understand?" I asked, my breathing erratic.

She wasn't satisfied. Caroline tapped her foot against the floor, impatiently, with her arms crossed over her chest.

I inhaled deeply to try and calm myself. "Caroline, the only women who have been in this apartment ever since we got engaged are you, my housekeeper, and Rosalie. You remember Rosalie? The wedding planner you wanted to hire for our wedding? I have not been unfaithful. That picture is months old."

Caroline was still frowning, but her foot tapping stopped. She regarded me for a few silent minutes.

"I have to go meet my father, Caroline and then I have meetings today and I'm going to go that tailor you wanted me to with Rosalie to pick suits, so please understand that I'm not with anyone other than you, alright?" I said, as Caroline rolled her eyes, "Can we leave now, please?"

Caroline huffed and walked out the door, leaving me angered before I even started my day.

I wasn't planning on visiting my father, but I had to. I had to get to the bottom of the hellish life I had been living for the past two months ever since this nightmare of an engagement was pitched to me.

"Henry, I'll hopefully be back within the hour," I told my driver, as I stepped out of the car outside my parents' house.

I hope that at least my mother would be there, because she was cheerful and simple and always managed to lighten my mood, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen between the front door and my father's study.

I was in no mood for politeness, so I walked in. My father was standing at his desk, packing his briefcase.

"Aiden?" he said, raising an eyebrow, "What's the matter?"

"Dad, I've been patient with her. I've given her what she wants. I've let her win practically every argument we've had and mind you, all we do is argue. I've bought her what she wants and tried to keep her happy, but she is driving me insane! Caroline Baxter will render your only son insane. I demand an explanation! You have to tell me exactly why you want me to marry that nightmare of a woman. I'm not leaving until you give me an explanation!" I demanded.

My father looked at me, pausing in his actions. He sighed deeply. "Sit down, Aiden," he said, in a tired voice.

"No, I don't want your half-assed excuses about how it's good for our family image. There's nothing wrong with our family name. I know that and you know that. Tell me the truth!" I was breathing hard and fast.

My father gave me a look. "Sit down, Aiden," he said, "I'll explain."

I was feeling too stubborn to do what my father told me, but I sat down anyway, wanting to hear his explanation.

"This better be good," I told him.

He closed his briefcase with a sigh. "Aiden, do you remember that specific deal I did a few years ago? It had nothing to do with your company. It was all under the name of Carlisle Holdings. It was with a company called TradeX."

I nodded. "I remember. Caroline's father was involved in it."

My Dad also nodded, taking a seat. "Well, it was a long process and there were so many people involved in it."

"Dad, I'm familiar with how business deals work. Will you please get to the point?" I snapped, not sure whether I was angry at my Dad or at Caroline.

"Well, Aiden, the sheer number of people involved in the deal meant that there would be mistakes made; human errors. We did everything we could to make sure nothing too severe happened on our part," my Dad said.

I raised my eyebrows, urging him to continue.

"Aiden, it was a very long process and there were so many people involved; too many loose ends. There was a horde of people involved from their end as well, which meant there were even more things that were out of our control."

"You're stalling," I told him.

He smiled. "You know what businessmen are like, Aiden. You know how ruthless the field we are in is. You know that there's scarce little I wouldn't do to maintain my status."

"I know, Dad," I rolled my eyes, "You missed many family dinners trying to make your own name, but none of this explains why you want me to marry Caroline."

"Well, it turns out there might be a rumour that there is a suspicion of malpractice of Carlisle Holdings brewing and I need that to be put to rest. Caroline's father was a good businessman and being involved with such a prominent and respected name will help our reputation as well, Aiden. You must do this for the family."

The explanation my father had given me did nothing to ease the anger.

"You're pimping out your only son so that you don't get investigated for malpractice?" I demanded to know.

"Don't put it like that, Aiden," my father tried to reason.

"Dad, it's completely unfair what you're asking me to do," I said, "It's unreasonable. There's other ways than marriage to improve our name, surely."

"Aligning our name with another well-respected name in the industry will do us a lot of credit, Aiden," he said, "I'm sure Caroline will grow out of this once you are married."

I got up, not wanting to hear any more, the anger from earlier bubbling up again. I walked over to my Dad's beverage cart and poured myself a stiff whiskey. I downed it in one gulp and turned to my father.

"After this, you can never ask me to do anything other than make a donation to a charity or an appearance on a magazine or anything for your company," I told my Dad firmly.

I turned on my heel and walked away before I said anything I regretted.

I got into my car and slammed the door, looking at my watch. It was almost eleven and I had made a promise to meet Rosalie to look for suits. This entire wedding and my involvement in it were leaving more of a bad taste in my mouth than it usually did.

However, the thought of Rosalie, her easy smile and her bright blue eyes made me almost eager to meet her.

Henry dropped me off at the tailors at eleven-thirty. When I walked in, Rosalie had already arrived and was seated in the foyer, her planner opened on her lap. She was dressed in a royal blue dress, which brought out her eyes and her hair was in her usual elegant updo.

She raised her head as I walked in and gave me a bright and easy smile, getting up.

"Aiden, nice to see you. Shall we get started?" she asked.

"Lead the way," I told her, smiling back.

As I walked through the shop, there were other people there. There was a man, who stood with his fiancée and they were joking and laughing as they picked a suit for their wedding. I overheard their exchange as we passed.

It made me feel like a complete loser, shopping with my wedding planner for a wedding I didn't even want to have.

"Did you have any colours in mind?" Rosalie asked me, as we stood in front of a wall of rolls of fabric.

I raised my eyebrows. "Do I actually get a say?" I asked.

Rosalie laughed. "Well, Caroline did pick a few that would actually match the red, so I was just being polite," she said, bashfully.

I chuckled. "Red!" I teased, making Rosalie blush, reminding her of night of drunkenness, "Well, which ones can I pick?"

"You have your fiancée's approval to pick a black tuxedo or suits in the colours of white, black, dark grey or dark brown. She prefers if you didn't pick brown," Rosalie said, smiling at me apologetically.

When she reminded me of my fiancée, the anger I had tried to subdue started to bubble again.

"Well, do you worst," I told her, nodding to the suits.

"Sure," Rosalie said, "I'll pick out a few suits and then you can try them on."

She walked off to find a few outfits for me and I looked around, seeing another happy couple looking for a suit. It made me want to throttle Caroline. Thinking of Caroline made me want to throttle my father.

"You can try these on," Rosalie told me, holding up a few hangers.

I grabbed them from her, not even looking at her and walked into the trial room, fuming.

Looking at the suits Rosalie had picked, it made me realize that she had considered how I dress because they were all three-piece suits, with red pocket squares. She had added in matching ties for each piece. I dressed, angrily, wanting to scream. The fact that a complete stranger was taking more interest in my interests than my own fiancée did nothing to ease my anger.

I walked out wearing one of the dark grey suits Rosalie had picked, with a prominent frown on my face. She got up from her seat when I walked out.

There was a look of concentration on her face as she examined my suit. She came over and straightened out corners and walked around me, pulling the suit in various places so that it sat just right.

"You do seem to be quite partial to your pocket squares," she told me, with a chuckle. She had noticed what I like and what I wear. "Caroline did mention that she wanted a good boutonniere on your lapel. A big flower might clash with your pocket square, so maybe we can convince her to let you wear a matching maroon rosebud instead."

Rosalie pumped her eyebrows, giving me a mischievous smile. This complete stranger was trying to defy my fiancée to let me have something I wanted. The anger bubbled inside me.

"If you like," Rosalie said, looking at the frown on my face, "If you'd prefer to keep Caroline happy, we can definitely do as she says. I'm sure you want to keep your bride happy."

She smiled at me.

"I have to keep my bride happy?" I asked, with a scoff, "And she doesn't have to do anything for me?"

Rosalie looked up at me hearing the venom in my voice, her brow furrowed with worry.

"Aiden, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant," she said, shaking her head.

"I do everything she asks of me and I don't even get to have my own pocket square?" I demanded.

Rosalie's eyes darted across my face, trying to figure out what she had done. I wanted to calm down, to tell her that it wasn't her fault, but I was too angry.

"Of course, you can have a pocket square, Aiden," she assured me, "I'll make sure of it. I'll –"

"You'll do it? Why do you have to do it?" I asked, taking my anger out on her, "Why can't my future wife listen to anything that I want?"

"I'm sure she will listen," Rosalie said.

I looked down at her, into her eyes and scoffed. "You think Caroline will listen to me?"

I could feel Rosalie pull away, trying to shield herself from my anger. She put her arms out and held me by my arms. "You're marrying her, Aiden. That means you love her and you want to spend the rest of your life with her. She will listen to her fiancé," she said, squeezing my arms in reassurance.

My breathing deepened at the thought of Rosalie thinking I love Caroline and that I would spend the rest of my life with a woman who didn't even trust me. I pulled out of Rosalie's grasp and bent down to her, so that I didn't have to raise my voice.

"You've seen the way we are with each other," I hissed at her, "Is that what you would call love, Rosalie? When have you looked at us and thought that we embody all that is loving in a relationship? You're smart, you can't be so blind. Don't you warn your clients when you think they aren't compatible? You've seen so many weddings happen, you must be an expert by now. Don't you even mention that they might be marching right into the eye of the hurricane?"

Rosalie looked at me for a while. "It's not my place to interfere in a relationship, any relationship, despite what I think about the match. Some people aren't how they seem to the world. I cannot judge a couple based on a few moments I spend with them," she said, more softly than I'd ever heard her speak before.

I scoffed, looking away from her.

"And," Rosalie added, making me face her again, "My business is the business of weddings." She shrugged, with a small smile, "Why would I want to steer people away from having a wedding?"

I stared at her for a while, processing what she said and then, I laughed. "You're a true businesswoman," I complimented, amused, but also impressed by her response, "I respect that. It's a bit twisted, but I respect it."

Rosalie shrugged. "Everything is a bit twisted."