Abigail.
A

Affronted.
Criticized.
Rejected.
Embarrassed.

With a clenched jaw, increased heartbeat and shaking, Abigail gathered her dress. Had the society not looked down upon the murderers she would have happily killed both Beatrice and Raymond, to hell with caution.
Her walk was stiff, schooled face never giving away. What had she been expecting from a marriage of convenience? Love? Respect? Trust? Friendship? Civilian behaviour?

Well, she was getting none. And it now finally sinking in. Other people were going to dictate her life from now on.

Shaking, she pulled the curtains away entering into the makeshift dressing room. Glared at Bella as she tried to follow her in.

"Get. Out!"

Comply, did Bella but not without returning the glare back and huffed away with her nose held high. Abigail closed the curtains and leaned over the dressing table with her head hung low. She wasn't particularly thinking just slightly swaying with eyes screwed closed.
Engrossed in her own world.

Breathe, She told herself.

In.

Out.

In.

Stop.

"Raymond, why don't you select a nice tux? I have something great for you." Abigail heard Bella question.

"Of course, son." Beatrice agreed.

"Mother, why don't you go with this beautiful lady and finalize three and I'll choose the best one. I have to be somewhere at two and it's one forty-five, already." She could imagine him looking at his watch and frowning.

"Honey, are you working again on a Sunday? It's your wedding and I told your father, to take some load off you until the marriage." Beatrice huffed.

"Mother it's already one forty-eight."

"Ray..." his mother whined but Raymond didn't seem to pay attention to it.

"Mrs. Dunhill, I'll ask John, mother's driver to drive you home. I do not wish to disturb Callum." She didn't hear her mother protest.

"But what about me?" Beatrice questioned.

"Father will be here to pick you up soon. And considering his impatient behaviour, I'd advise you be quick with the suits."

Then it was silent again and she figured it was time for collecting herself and leaving quickly with her mother. Taking a deep breath she reached back to get out of the cage. She couldn't wait to get out of this place and be safe and secure in her room. She had an irresistible urge to destroy something, completely trash something.

She wouldn't risk acting out in front of Raymond and his mother. She again tugged on the string but no avail. Eventually, after several tries, a cry of frustration left her mouth. She stilled when she heard the curtains open and instant anger filled her.

"Get out!"

A throat was cleared abruptly, gaining her attention. She opened her eyes and looked at the culprit in the mirror, ready to scream but her voice died down in her throat.

There he stood, Raymond, with a raised brow. She felt the air around her hum with energy and pure excitement. Body ignited with raw desire for him an irresistible pull. But soon was reminded how he had rolled his eyes at her wedding dress and irritation filled her to the core. How much ever she intended to satisfy her body needs she held her grounds and irritation filled her. She gripped the dressing table harder and held his intense stare.

After keeping mum for a minute he silently walked up to her and without answering her questioning gaze he had her pinned between him and the dresser and innocently tugged on the corset strings. She gasped in horror and slightly jumped away.

"What are you doing!"

"What does it look like, genius?" he tutted.
Then pulled her close and her back almost crashed against his chest and his hands were once again busy with the strings. She kept quiet for a minute gathering all her courage and rational thoughts to keep her anger. But it wouldn't be a good idea to harm him seriously and leave him dying in the dressing room when his mother might be outside and paparazzi ready to greet her at the exit.

As he proceeded with the strings the wave of excitement romped her body violently. Her eyes screwed shut and she swayed slightly. The buzzing small dots of energy were taking over her body with a new intensity, like never before they influenced her rational thoughts today, to an extent where she wouldn't mind if he, right here in this very moment had his way with her. She was thirsty for him in all his true male glory and nothing else. She opened her eyes to look at him in the mirror to confirm if he too felt them. She could have sworn he had fisted his hands firmly on the strings his eyes were screwed shut with a knotted jaw that gave away the great amount of restraining he practiced. His breathing was sharp and deep.

"You have to stop looking at me like that. My patience is wearing thin."

"Like what?" she questioned him, out of breath.

"Like you want me to take you, here in this very dressing room. And I want to." Raymond clenched his teeth as he grated those words out. His eyes held her daring her to resist him. His teeth didn't gnash, exactly, but close. "My rational side always reasons with me: You are my bride to be and so you must be treated properly. I find myself conflicted."

She looked at him as though he was run-away loony from a mental asylum.

"What?" deep with lust, he questioned her.

"I don't feel like a typical bride." She tried to pace past him; key word tried. He moved closer and pinned her against the dresser, his front now firmly pressed against her back. He dipped his head resting his chin on her shoulder blades, leveling their eyes. Looking at her through the mirror he spoke.

"What do you feel like?" the warm air gently fanned her ears, she shivered in delight.

"An executive," she said promptly. "Like I ought to do something, like something useful. Can you picture me, the fat barracuda, as a sex kitten?"

With her luminous, viridian green eyes, red fiery hair cascading down her back, and a sensual white fabric billowing around her voluptuous body, Raymond could picture her very well. The avid expression on her face might indicate a killer instinct in business, but it quickened his blood.

"I guess that depends on whether or not you can imagine me as the hunk of your dreams," he replied. "What do you say, my princess?"

What could she say? Abigail wondered. Yes, physically he was her knight in shining armor, but in her dreams, he never insulted or belittled her. Until recently, she'd assumed that if she ever found her Knight, they would live happily ever after.

Abigail was afraid to have a marriage like her mother. Afraid of her developing any good-natured feelings for her husband and for him to not return even a single ounce.

"Maybe you shouldn't touch me anytime soon." Raymond clenched his jaw at the rejection. "Not now anyways. You have a meeting at two I heard you."

"You are my bride." His teeth didn't gnash, but close.

"We will have our wedding night in two months and we'll cross the bridge when we reach there. And I'm not a fan of this situation as it is."

"What is so terrible about this situation?" Raymond was quick to turn her around and have her jaw in his firm hold. At six foot one, her towered her by eight inches and had the advantage of his rough build, with impressive muscles, which bulged under his suit.

The nerves this man had!

She wanted to slap Mai's name on his face and the activities they had been indulging not long ago.

"Threating me won't do you any good." She held her ground until he was almost on top of her with his blazing eyes meeting her brave ones. He slowly backed a few steps.

"I haven't threatened you." His voice was low and confused. Raymond sounded mildly insulted.

"Your presence is intimidating."

"My presence is required. We are to consummate out marriage soon, but how will that work if you don't let me touch you." He told her. "And don't tell me what we'll do in two months."

"I'll do-"

"In fact, don't ever try telling me what to do at all." He cut her. "Let this be the last reminder; You. Mind. Your. Tongue!" he'd managed, she discovered, she had backed  against the dresser again and now had his hands stretched on either side of her and leaned in against his palms. She too leaned back to gain some distance.

"If you were a gentleman you'd respect my wishes." She whispered. Her eyes glossed.

"But I'm not." He replied. But changed his tone when he noticed her eyes. "I'm a ruffian." He teased. But his eyes held no amusement. His face was passive. "However, in the interests of world peace, let me volunteer to assist the bride to be, in removing her tiara and veil."

Since the pins were digging her scalp, Abigail had to admit it wasn't a bad idea. "Okay. I'll let you."

"Thank you very much your highness." Humor laced his deep voice. He laughed at the thought of her thinking he was asking for his permission. He shifted away from her and gave her place to stand up properly and reached to touch her silken hair. Abigail's eyes closed instinctively as Raymond fumbled with the pins holding the tiara and veil. He tugged and tugged a little harder.

"If they fixed it any harder I'd need a staple remover."

"Bella promised me it won't fall off, no matter what."

"Including a nuclear blast." Raymond laughed and Abigail quickly opened her eyes not believing her ears. Indeed, Raymond Sawyer was laughing, genuinely. She physically resisted the urge to pinch herself. The sight was beautiful she didn't say anything, afraid of breaking the spell. She just stood there relishing the beauty.

"There you go all done." She felt the pins slid free, and the tiara lifted from her hair. But Raymond wasn't done yet. He removed the additional pins holding her coiffure in place and ran his fingers through her hair to free it. He massaged her scalp, soothing away the faint itching.

"Yes, that's good." She moaned and closed her eyes.

His hands stroked down her temples and cupped her face in his large hands. She opened her lids in time to catch a shimmer of desire in his eyes and then he did something she had never expected.

"Can I kiss you now?"

He has asked her for her permission. She couldn't deny him.

His lips captured hers in a jiffy. The kiss wasn't gentle. He commanded her to yield and she did, letting his teeth gazing her lips and his tongue entered her mouth deepening the kiss. Just for a second, Abigail told herself. She was going to let him be her Knight in shining armor and see how it feels. She was going to start seducing him from now, and see how successful she'd be.

A second won't be enough, her siren side told her.

She would have him bent at all her wishes and not the other way round. She would have her company back, no matter the cost.

She wounded her hands around his, which were on his face and brought them down on her hips. He groaned deep in his throat. His one hand traveled to the small of her back, pulling her closer. His other hand roamed free on her torso; caressed the edges of her breasts he cupped it through the luxurious fabric. She too moaned as she felt him harden against her. Longing fired her though her, stiffening her nipples and making her go weak on her knees. She was grateful that he had held her; her only support. The hand that had cupped her breast started moving south. She hummed in excitement. His hand gathered her gown and pulling it up, inch by inch revealing her creamy soft legs. His hand got hold of her thigh and swiftly lifted it up and their heats aligned. She moaned low in raw excitement. With one step he picked her and sat her on the dresser. The hand on her back pulled her closer. In all this they never broke there kiss. But when Raymond slightly rocked his hips, she pulled away gasping for air.

"Raymond..." she breathed out loudly.

"Shhh... there are people outside." He too breathed out.

Eger for more she rested her forehead on his shoulder blade, gasping for air while biting her lips to control her voice. Many whimpers and moans pilled out of her mouth. This was ecstasy. "Raymond..." she lowly whined as he rocked his hips with a little force as he continued roaming his hand all over her. She too started rocking her hips and moaned.

"Raymond..!"

His free hand moved quickly to her hair, fisting them he pulled her face away from his shoulder. Angling her face towards his as he towered her slightly. His stance was dominating and he held her in a submissive form.

"Shit! Don't moan like that." That's all he breathed out before capturing her lips and swallowing her moans and groans of protest. Her hands wounded around his neck pulling and tugging on his soft brown curls. She moved her hips with more force. The tight coil in her stomach was coiling tighter. She was on the brink of losing it. She moved her lips with more vigor living out her sexual frustration.

Slowly, Raymond drew away. Her lips blindly followed his. He rested a calm hand on her shoulder and then completely pulled away. Confused she glanced at his pants, confirming her doubts. Indeed, Raymond still was straining against his pants, it looked painful.

"I think that's enough for now." He told her calming his breaths. He fixed his hair and his suit. His blue eyes still burned with desire so she wondered why he'd stop. She still sat on the dresser with her gown hiked up, panting, looking a royal mess.

"What?" Abigail glared at him. His eyebrows quirked up mischievously. "You said you didn't want me to touch you."

She recovered a trace of defiance from earlier. "I-I meant it." He smirked at her. He pulled back his suit sleeves to check his watch. He hummed in disappointment. "It's already two-thirty. We have to leave get dressed. I want you out in five." And prissy Raymond was back.

"But where am I going? Are we-'"

"We are not best of friends yet, Miss Dunhill. I'll let you know I still hate women questioning me. Get dressed and be out in five."

The man couldn't be any more infuriating if he tried. According to Abigail, he was trying.

_~*~_

She pulled the curtains apart and walked out properly dressed. She was expecting to meet her mother, his mother or Bella at least but found none.

"How many?" She heard Raymond question. She couldn't see who he was talking to so she moved further, making herself visible. Raymond stopped talking at once beckoned her towards him. She silently walked to him and when she was in a close, within reach he pulled her in. His hand roped around her waist in a possessive way. This time, she ignored the tingling, fuzzy feeling that took over her when his palm made contact with her bear back. She was more interested in the old man dressed in black suit uniform who had folded back in respect.

"Not less than ten sir." He answered. His eyes lingered on Abigail for a moment longer than necessary to its immediate effect she noticed Raymond's grip tightening on her.

"Great." She wasn't sure what they were talking about but she didn't miss Raymond's agitated tone.

"I apologize sir." The old man said bowing his head down.

"It's not your fault, Paul. Will we make it out in time?" Raymond dismissed his apologizes quickly and questioned the man.

"Of course, sir. "

"Okay then, let's make a move."

"Just a moment sir, I'll make everything ready." The old man replied and walked away talking on his earpiece. Her eyes followed the man without any apparent reason.

"What are you wearing?"

"Clothes?" She played dumb. Well, two could play a game. She finally decided to look up at him only to find him looking at her with a permanent scowl plastered on his face.

"Don't get smart pants with me! Why do you always wear backless 'clothes'?" she wore a halter neck white top and light blue jeans.

"No, I don't!" she protested, but now that he said it, she discovered most of her attire she owned backless. He glared at her.

"Don't-" Abigail cut Raymond.

"Why do you scowl so much?" without waiting for his reply she continued "You know what don't answer that. Where are we going?"

"For lunch at Oliver's."

"I don't like Italian."

"I don't care Miss. Dunhill."

"Sir everything is ready. This way sir," Paul piped in. And Raymond was quick to guide her towards the exit.

"Don't stop or talk to anyone outside. There are like ten or more reporters out. Keep your head down and walk." Raymond instructed Abigail. She nodded and in a jiffy the doors opened and she was blinded by the cameras; almost driven deaf by the screaming reporters. There were royal bodyguards forming a protective circle. Raymond ushered her in the circle quickly and they securely navigated through the mobs. Cameras flashed and people screamed for her attention. It was overwhelming for her.

At some point, she lost her balancing and Raymond saver her. Muttering a gentle 'Careful.'

They made their way to the car and Raymond opened the door

"Do you even know my name?" she whispered in his ears. Raymond turned to look at her in shock. Then glared at her.

"Get in the car."

_~*~_

There was a pregnant silent between the two. Both sat at the windows leaving considerate distance in between; while Paul drove the car.

"Did you get what I asked for, Paul?"

"Yes, sir. Here it is." Paul opened the dashboard and pulled out a big envelope, handed it to Raymond in the back seat.

"I want you to sign a prenup." A very very simple demand. . Pulling out a pen from the inside of his pocket he rested it on a small stack and pushed it towards her.

Fear caged her happiness. "No." A simple denial. She felt her life replicate her mother's and Abigail had learned a life lesson, the hard way from her mother's mistake. And she'd fight tooth and nail to prevent it going down the hill just like her mother.

"I'm not asking you Ms. Dunhill." He eased back in his car seat with a smile mocking her. "Your eyes are almost violent with rage." He mused. "And you look so flushed with anger; I couldn't imagine anyone looking more beautiful-"

"Don't try to flirt with me!" she jerked away the papers, furiously at his murmuring tone.

An innocent arch in his brow sent a quiver down her spine. "I can't help-"

"I won't sign. No, because, you don't value women as people in their right own," Abigail said, scorn in each word. "You see them as a potential conquest and you spin them in line, expecting them to lie down and beg. Only to get a knee-jerk reaction from you."

"Knee? Wrong place. Try a little higher." Raymond murmured. He was surprisingly calm.

"Of course, I did read the tabloids. Oxford has probably changed characterless and womanizer by your name!" she sneered.

One scathing look from him she quieted down but continued to fume and scowl. She tucked her hair and looked out of the window ad imagined herself putting her tiny hands around his neck and throttling him. Or kick the door open and fling him out of the moving vehicle and let the other vehicle romp over him... She disgusted herself. He'd arouse horrid emotions in her that shamed her utterly but served as guilty pleasures.

"What exactly do you mean?" he bristled.

"Mai-"

"Don't bring her into this!" he growled at her. "You and I both know that you are allocated with things for the almost professional pleasure you just exhibited, not very long ago."

"Professional? I'm not one of your whores-"

"No? Well, you are definitely not a virgin! Or how'd you learn to kiss like that? Honed to perfection on how many men?" His insolent gaze suggested that she might be a cheap hooker.

"I'm a virgin, but not a monk!"

"That's what it boils down to. Dress it up as you may like, but marrying a man for his money is kind of Prostitution."

"I agree." She grated. So angry that she didn't pay heed to her long slipped composure and caution thrown right out of the window. "If you are to have your 'personal whore' as you imply I am; why do you need Mai?" she scoffed. "Oh, there must be hundred other Mai! It is so sick; you've probably fathered bastards all over London, for all I know! You humiliate me with lying and cheating and it will give me great pleasure to disappear from the face of the earth with half of your assets just so you won't be able to cheat other delude female."

His face tightened.

Oh, good lord in heaven please help me. She begged. She could never keep her mouth shut when mad, irrespective of the person on the other side. Her mother always scolded her.

"Me? Cheat? I did no such thing. And a gentle reminder if you are to mention Mai again I'll have your head before you could scream for help!" he growled and shook with anger. She was scared to death but dare she admit it. Then his face tightened further. "I see. You've realized that you will land on shaky legal ground if you say this was a marriage of convenience. You intend to claim in the court that you walked out on me because I was unfaithful."

"Claim?" She fisted her hands. "Do not insult my intelligence! If you pretend to be innocent as the driven snow then you're lousier than I imagined!"

His scathing look stabbed her. She slightly cowered but held her grounds with great valor.

"If you malign my character for your own end-"

"Malign!" she gasped, flipping her fiery hair off her shoulder. "I couldn't make your character any worse if I flung it in sewer and stuffed with dead rotting rats!"

There was complete silence in the car for two minutes, before he laughed at her outrageous overstatement. A truly amused laughter.

But the darkness soon returned his eyes as he understood what she had implied.

"Don't sling mud on my name!" she just scoffed at his words.

"You said and I quote, 'If you can't satisfy me I have to find some other.... some other source and Mai was there.'" She deepened her voice to mimic his. "If she can satisfy you, why do you need me?" now she mocked him with a smile.

"This is a marriage of convenience. I am a convenience to you because I pull your sorry arses out of the debt. And you are a convenience to me because you are to give me an heir-"

"Why, she's too dry to give you an heir?" Abigail laughed bitterly.

"There is nothing special about you Ms. Dunhill. My mother chose you and it will do you good to remember; I never go against her wish. She is above everyone. If it weren't for her I would never spare a first glance at the likes of your kind! Now, I did warn you not to bring her into this and now you shall pay the price." He murderously glared at her. "Paul, stop the car." The entire attitude disappeared from Abigail's body.

"But sir-"

"I. Said, Stop. This. God. Damned. Car. NOW!" he shouted and to its immediate effect, the car came to a screeching halt in the middle of nowhere.

"Get OUT!" Raymond grated when Abigail didn't get the hint.

"NOW!" he roared. She swallowed her tears and complied. Slamming the door with an unnecessary force she walked towards the other side, bending down to Raymond's window level she knocked on it. Raymond complied by rolling the window down.

"Are those prenup papers?" she pointed at the papers that lay in Raymond's lap.

"I'm not letting you in even if you sign them."

"Are those? Give me." warily Raymond gave in. "There are four crosses where you need to sign." she nodded taking the pen too. She used the back of the car to sign and when finished she stood up with a sweet smile. She then threw the papers at Raymond's face.

He heard her say before she started walking away in the opposite direction, "Have a great day Sir!"

Angered and humiliated he shouted, "Drive now." Paul drove away leaving behind a smiling Abigail in a cloud of dust.

Raymond quickly lifted the paper to scan it but what he saw left his blood boiling. On the four crosses where she was supposed to be her signature; written in her beautiful handwriting was

'Go fuck yourself with a dry cactus!'