Chapter 8: The Devil Sucks At Acting Julian opened the door for me, and I stepped out. Ares rounded the car, adjusting his black overcoat that framed his broad shoulders, with the collar up. His hand slides to the small of my back. I did my best to disregard it as we neared the big building. "What are we doing here? I thought we were going to your penthouse?" "This is important first." I grew nervous as we stepped through the doors and were welcomed by a team of women. One of them, who looked older and more advanced, whom I assumed was the manager, greeted us. "Bienvenue à la maison de la mariée, Mr. King." (Welcome to House of Bride, Mr. King) "Tu sais quoi faire." (You know what to do) "Oui." (Yes) ~☆~ Never in my life did I ever imagine I’d one day get a makeover in a place like this. It was a dream I couldn’t wait to wake up from. "Mrs. King." "Y-Yes." I don’t think I could get used to being called that. It never felt right since the beginning. I sighed. Just deal with it, Catherine. "Mr. King can’t wait to see you." I almost huffed at her words, but I refrained. I knew she was just being nice. Taking a few deep breaths, I push the curtains aside and step out. "Here she is, Mr. King!" Ares was sitting, legs crossed, and buried in his phone. It got awkward when he didn’t respond. I cleared my throat to grab his attention, which worked. He raised his gaze, and it was slow as those cold eyes took me in. My hair was packed in a low bun with loose waves framing my face, and my makeup was light but gave a bold look to match. The wedding gown I wore was made of silk fabric that hung my curves, flowing gracefully to the floor, with spaghetti straps and the neckline trimmed with fine lace. I had full and round breasts, so it appeared like my tits were almost spilling out. I was self conscious, and the urge to cover up was great, but Ares held my eyes and didn’t waver from it. "Where are your glasses?" "I’m wearing contacts." "Doesn’t she look beautiful, Mr. King?" said Mrs. Laurent, to somehow make the mood more appealing, but it felt like the temperature had dropped far more than it had a few seconds ago. Not an ounce of emotion on his face. He sucked at acting. I fixed my fake smile and uttered. "Do you think the pearls will go, honey? Or should I go for something more bold?" Mrs. Laurent gasped and looked to Ares, hoping for his input, but her smile faltered when he remained stoic. "Pearls it is. Thank you, Mrs. Laurent, if you’d excuse us." "O-Of course." She stepped out, looking between me and Ares with a puzzled expression. I folded my arms. "When your wife stands before you in a million-dollar wedding gown, the least you can do is act interested." "My reaction will be labelled speechless in her eyes." "Or uninterested. Would it kill you to act interested?" He uncrossed his legs and stood to his full height, pulling out a small box from his overcoat. He opened it and revealed a diamond ring. Uneasiness swamped me, but I raised my hand. He slid the ring through my finger—a perfect fit. "Dare I ask how you got my size?" "You have small hands with long fingers." I’m not about to ask how he knew that; I figure he was just observant. "The photographer should be in a minute." He checked his Rolex. "Great!" I voiced, but I was nothing short of excited. "I hope we can work on that. How about a smile?" He pinned me with a look. "Don’t tell me you’re using that expressionless face of yours on our wedding photo." "A wedding photo already proves the status of our relationship." "Yes, but that won’t sell the idea of a happily married couple." "I’ll see what I can do." Why do I get the feeling that I was the only one trying so hard for this? Flash forward to the photoshoot, and it was hell. I had to pull my game and somehow hold him to fix the appearance of an intimate couple. Thankfully, we crossed that bridge, but I was more mentally stressed than I have ever been when working with him. We pulled up at a boutique next. "Pick anything you want." He gave me his black card. "Aren’t you coming?" "I have somewhere I’m supposed to be. I’ll be back in an hour. Will that be enough?" I didn’t want to sound greedy, but this is what I signed up for. If I wanted to make it work and sell it to the public, then I had to do the needful. "Make it three hours." "Reed will escort you." "Reed?" A car pulled out behind us. I have noticed they have been following us around ever since. "Your new bodyguard." The car door was open, and I stepped out, finally relieved I wasn’t trapped in the same space with him. That man was too much and too difficult. When the car drove out, I faced my new bodyguard. He was a handsome, blond-haired man with gray eyes, dressed in a long camel-brown coat over a turtleneck and matching black pants, paired with leather boots. Unlike the walking hump of ice, he had a softer countenance I can deal with. "Mrs. King, I’m Reed Cross." "Nice to meet you, Catherine Lane—I mean Catherine King. Sorry, still can’t believe it..." I tried to play it off as an overwhelmed new bride. He gave me a polite smile in return. "I promise I won’t take too much of your time. Can’t guarantee, though." "Understood." "So how long have you worked with Mr. King—Ares..." "A long time." "How come I haven’t seen you before?" I knew most of Ares’ security team, well, not all of them, but I was familiar with a handful. "I show up when needed." His reply told me he wanted to end the discussion there. I was hoping to stir up a conversation, probably my professional habit of working and meeting strangers. I always tried to maintain good spirits. "Question: Are we being followed?" I asked discreetly, the moment we stepped into the shopping complex. "Just by one. Ever since the House of Bride." I wasn’t wrong then. Definitely a paparazzi tailing me. "Where?" "Six o’clock, about fifty meters out." I discreetly looked around, but I couldn’t find anyone who looked suspicious. "Does this bother you? I can remove them if you wish." "N-No!" I blurted. "It’s perfect." I might as well use it to my advantage. I went on a shopping spree, coming out of malls with more bags than I could carry. Reed helped, and when I asked if it was too much, he told me it was fine. I feel shitty for doing this, but I needed to give the paparazzi a story. I have worked with Ares King for years. Sure, there were times I scheduled hotels for his romantic visits, but he had never been in public with a woman. I stumbled upon the lingerie section, and I spared a look at Reed, who remained like a statue behind me. "I think I should go into this alone." "Understood, I’ll wait out here." He stepped back, standing at the door. I forced a smile and walked in. If the paparazzi could see me right now, then it would be obvious they have already caught on. There goes my private life. I just picked up whatever, bidding the time I would leave, but I bumped into someone. "Hey, watch where you’re—" Piper paused when she finally took me in. "Well, look at what we have here. I almost didn’t recognise you without your glasses." Shit!