The car ride was silent, as expected. Patrick stared out one window and I stared out the other. Large, lavish mansions were coming into view as we drove further out of the city. I didn't know this part of town well, but it reminded me of homes that Pappa would take me to balls to. He would always say that I was his date and that he didn't need or want someone else on his arms. I mean, of course I would ditch him and play with the other children at the ball, but we enjoyed it while it lasted.

I didn't need to ask where we were headed because it seemed quite clear. We were going to our new home. The thought both made me shiver and made my heart race. I was going to the home that I was going to spend my life in. Raise my children in. Die in.

It wasn't long till we turned into a drive way and stopped at a gate. A ten foot hedge stood on both sides of the gate and continued to the edge of the property like a barrier to the outside world. I sat up, now paying attention, as the driver pulled down his window and typed a code into the intercom. The gate rolled opened before we drove through.

My mouth dropped when I spied the outline of the mansion. It was larger than my own father's mansion and just as beautiful. I could made out that it was built out of grey stone brick which contrasted with the cream trims of the windows. There was a small circler balcony that was supported by cream columns and steps that led out to the brick car port. Underneath were the wooden French doors that led into the house. In the middle of the carport was a circled fountain that the driver drove around to avoid hitting it. The mansion was in a C shape, almost identical to each side. The front of the house, came out a little from the back and had a face of windows on each side. My heart pounded, excited to see the inside.

The car barely stopped when I opened the door and struggled to get out. Big dresses in low cars didn't work.

"Eliza, please wait for me," Patrick ordered, just before I reached the steps of the mansion.

I watched him carefully, as a man got out of the front of the car. Light from the driveway, blinded me before another black car came into view.

"Boss, take your wife inside," the man said, making my eyes blink at the word, wife, "I know what needs to be done for tomorrow. I'll tell them."

Patrick nodded, not showing a smile but looked grateful either way.

"Thank you, Garrick," Patrick thanked.

Garrick smiled and pattered his arm, "No worries. Congrats."

Patrick rolled his eyes as Garrick snickered under his breath, clearly a private joke between them.

Walking around the car, Patrick gestured me to go through. He didn't have to ask me twice.

I picked up half my dress and paced up the step to the French doors. I was surprised to find them opened but didn't question it.

The luxury of this place was thrown in my face when I was met by a void. White tiles covered the length of the room, to another set of French doors that led to a back yard. On my left were white tiled stairs leading two a second floor and an opened balcony. To my right, was yet another set of French doors that seemed to lead to a dining room?

"This is your home as much as it is mine," Patrick told me, reminding me that I wasn't alone, "I'll introduce you formally to everyone tomorrow and I'll give you a tour. But I'll show you to your room so you can get undressed and get some sleep."

"My room?" I questioned, stopping him before he reached the stairs.

He turned back to me with raised eyebrows, "I mean, you can sleep in mine but by the look on your face when you were talking to your friend, you're not too keen on that."

I felt my cheeks go bright red, realizing that he had heard Zoey and me talking.

"You weren't supposed to hear," I muttered, bowing my head.

"I didn't hear anything. I assumed. But you just admitted it," he corrected.

I looked up and frowned, realizing he had just tricked me. And he looked pretty smug about it too. The bastard.

"I'll take that as a, yes, please show me to my room," the smug bastard said, gesturing to the stairs.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not liking his smartass attitude before making my way to the stairs. I followed him up, admiring the view while listening to the sound of my heels, clicking along the tiles.

We reached the opened balcony and the first thing I noticed were a set of French doors that led into what looked like a study. Probably Patrick's study. Patrick turned right with me following right behind him. I tried to remember every little thing. How many doors we passed? How many corners we turned down? Till we finally stopped at a door.

Patrick opened it and allowed me to step through. It was about the same size as my room at my Father's mansion. Soft navy carpet covered the floor, matching the midnight blue curtains that hung in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one wall. On the far wall was a king-size bed, dressed in the same midnight blue and sat in between two bedside tables that were made out of the same dark wood the bed frame was made out of. Parallel to that was a door that led to an ensuite and a wardrobe next to that.

"Your father organised to have your things brought here during the ceremony. If you find anything missing, I'll see to it," he told me.

I looked back at him and frowned. He was talking to me like we were business partners, so formally and so respectably. It was playing with my head. I couldn't decide if I liked it or hated it.

"It's fine," I told him, "I trust them."

He nodded, accepting my answer, "If you wish."

I nodded, managing a smile.

We stood in awkward silence, trying to work out what to say. It should have been simple. He could have said, you looked beautiful today, and then I would have responded with, you didn't look too bad yourself. I then would have thanked him for getting me through it, and he would have said, no worries, that's what husbands are for. We would laugh nervously, but slowly it was breaking the ice. My eyes would have met his and there would be a look in them that told me I had made the right choice.

But there was none of that. There was nothing.

Patrick gave a slight nod, a form of a good night, I suppose before shutting the door behind him.

Finally on my own, I felt more trapped than ever.

Before I could stop them, the tears that I had been holding in all day came falling down. I couldn't stop them. Kicking off my heels, I could not care less where they landed. I bolted for the bed, tripping on the layers of tulle before I landed face first onto the mattress. I crawled for the pillows, pretending that they were warm bodies that would love me and comfort me. Because from the looks of things, it was going to be awhile till I felt that way again.