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Wife

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Chapter 21: Wife (Delilah's POV)

I stared at him wide-eyed. "K- Kill you? What?" 

He chuckled, "I'm only joking, Daisy." 

I really just think I should tell him. "Spencer," I whispered. 

"Hmm?" He watched me with a small smile on his face. It lit him up. He rarely smiles and when he does, it's hard to miss it. His smile is the prettiest thing I've seen in a while. It runs deep, I can see it in his eyes even when his lips are still, and it's genuinely... sweet. If he ever loved me, if. Then his smile would be all the love I could ever need. I don't know how much he could even love me after what I'm about to say. "Delilah?" 

I blinked out of my thoughts, my eyes meeting his. 

"You were saying something." 

"I think I should tell you something," I began hesitantly. 

"What's wrong?" He raised his eyebrows. 

I let out a breath. "Maybe we just shouldn't get married." 

He frowned almost immediately. "Why not?" 

"You shouldn't marry me," I shook my head, "I'm not right for you." 

"That completely contradicts what I just said," he scoffed. "I think you're perfect for me." 

"Your father..." How do I say it? I can't force the words out of my mouth, I don't want to upset him, I don't want to hurt him, and the last thing I want is for him to hate me. 

"What did my father do?" His voice came out hard, cold, and stern. He was angry already and I hadn't even told him anything. "Did he say something to upset you? Was he rude or hurtful?" 

I shook my head, still staring into his eyes. 

He watched me, analyzing for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "Did he threaten you?" 

I blinked once, then twice before nodding slowly. 

"What did he say? What did he tell you?" 

"Your father and Nico said they'd..." I let out a huff, closing my eyes and letting go of his shirt, covering my face and getting it together. It's the right thing to do. I'd hate myself if something happened to Spencer, knowing that I could prevent it. I'd never be able to forgive myself. But... What if I tell him and then his father finds out? What if his father knows that I told him and then he does something horrible to my uncle? I can't afford that either. 

"Delilah, you can tell me. I promise I'll keep you safe, you don't have to worry about him finding out," Spencer reassured me. He pulled my hand down and our eyes met once again. "Trust me." He nodded softly. 

I took a breath and let it out. "They threatened to kill my uncle," I admitted. 

He stared at me, processing, not uttering a single word. "Why?" He finally asked. "In return for what? What do they want you to do?" 

I scanned his face, my eyes fixating on his. "Kill you," I whispered. Both of us fell extremely still as if I wasn't frozen in one spot already. I even stopped breathing for a moment. I thought he was about to throw me out of his castle, get rid of me for good, and never see me again. 

He swallowed and spoke after a long minute of silence. "What did you say?" 

"I just said I didn't want to do it," I confessed. 

"And what did they say?" 

"That they'd kill my uncle if I don't," I mumbled, my voice wavering at the end. I let out another sigh, lowering my head and staring at his t-shirt. I couldn't even look at him. How could I after I just confessed the truth? Even I hate myself right now, how could he not hate me? I just lied to him and used him from the start. 

"When did this happen?" He sounded so cold, I hated it. He really sounded like he hated me right now, and no matter how much he acted like that, I never actually felt like he hated me. 

Right now, I feel just that. I lifted my gaze to his, a frown on my face. "Spencer..." 

"You better tell me right now, Delilah," he scoffed. "Before I kick you out." 

I swallowed, staring at him. "Would you really do that?" 

"I just might." His eyes were blazing as they bored into mine. 

I don't want him to draw it out of me, I'd rather tell him on my own. "The first time I came here to deliver the flowers," I revealed. 

He chuckled dryly, propping himself up on his elbow and holding his head in his hand, glancing at the ceiling. "You've been lying to me since we met?" He turned to me. 

I nodded sheepishly. 

"Why didn't you tell me right away?" 

"I didn't think you'd pick me to marry you. I thought I wouldn't have to do it at all. And then you picked me, and then they started keeping an eye on me. They would linger around Mirage, I would see your brother's car while I was out giving deliveries," I groaned. "I didn't know what to do, I was so scared that they would really hurt my uncle. I tried telling you, Spencer." 

He rolled his eyes. 

"I really did," I persisted. "The first ball when you announced me to be your wife, that's what I was trying to tell you before Nico interrupted. I tried telling you again after the engagement at the staircase but then Ms. Sunny came in—" 

"So it's her fault?" 

"No! That's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying I couldn't tell you. And I'm so sorry for that. I really am." 

He blinked, his eyes scanning my face, trying to read me, probably figuring out if I was being genuine with my apology. "Why are you telling me now?" He lifted a brow sharply. 

"Because I can't kill you. I don't want to." 

"Why not?" 

I watched him quizzically. 

"You should. It would have made everything so much easier for you. You would be safe, your uncle would be safe, you'd be free from this marriage..." 

He hesitated, "Free from me." 

My brows furrowed and I shook my head slowly in confusion. "Why would I want to be free from you? You're not trapping me here. I'm here willingly." 

"I practically forced you, Delilah. We both know that, come on." 

"You didn't. And I'm willing now." 

He watched me carefully. 

"And even if you did force me, which you didn't," I emphasized. "That doesn't mean I have permission to kill you." 

"What if I give you permission?" 

I gawked at him, stunned. What the hell is wrong with him? "What?" 

"What if I give you permission to kill me? I'll make things much easier for you. Do it." 

"Are you out of your mind? Why would I kill you?" 

"To save yourself. You can do it, Delilah." How can he say that? "I don't have a lot of will to live." He shook his head softly. "Not after—" He cut himself short. 

But I knew. "Not after losing your mom?" I guessed. 

He hummed, nodding softly. "Not after losing my mum." 

"Spencer." 

His eyes met mine. 

"You have a lot to live for. I know it might not feel like enough, I know you might not want it. But people want you here. People need you." 

"Who needs me?" he scoffed. 

"I need you," I admitted. 

His eyebrows twitched to shoot up but he maintained a blank face. 

"I need you, Spencer. You gave me a place to stay, you saved me from my aunt's wrath," I said sarcastically and he let a smile slip. "You're making me your wife. I'd prefer not to be a widow, please." 

His lips twitched up into another smile while he watched me in amusement. 

"Or a murderer," I mumbled. "How can you be amused right now? This isn't funny." 

"Of course it's funny. You're choosing me over yourself and your family. It's bullshit. You should just kill me and save yourself." 

"I can't kill you!" I huffed. 

"Why not?" 

"I like you too much." I regretted it as soon as I said it. I was convinced that I said the wrong thing at the wrong time. How can I... What the hell?! Why would I say that? Why didn't I think that through? Am I just blurting things out at this point? What is wrong with me? Jesus! 

"Ah," he sang, smirking. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean? You like me too much. What does that mean?" 

I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what game he was playing. I'll play along. I don't have much to lose, considering I just told him I was practically hired to kill him. "It means I like you," I whispered. 

"Elaborate," he mused. 

I gritted my teeth and sucked in a frustrated breath. "It means I like you," I repeated. "I'm happy with marrying you and being your wife, I'm happy to be here living with you, I'm happy... I'm just happy here." 

His eyes danced across my face, and with the look, he was giving me, it felt like his gaze kissed every inch, making butterflies swarm in my stomach when his eyes settled on my lips. "With me?" he asked, bringing a hand up and brushing my hair back, tucking it behind my ear before stroking my cheek with his thumb. 

I nodded, answering his question. 

"I guess I like you too." 

I threw his hand off, groaning and rolling over, my back facing him. He laughed, putting his arm around my waist and rolling me back over. "I'm tired, let me sleep!" I scolded, throwing his arm off. 

He caught my hand and spun me around, pulling me into him until I was flush against him. "I like you, Delilah," he said slowly as if I were a child he was explaining it to. "I like you just as much, if not more. I couldn't ask for a better wife, okay? And I'm very happy that you don't want to kill me," he smiled softly while leaning in. He stopped a hair's breadth away from my lips, teasing. 

I closed my eyes and took a breath, trying not to smack him across the face and keep my patience. 

He pulled away, watching me with curiosity. "How come you never initiate it?" 

"What?" I frowned in confusion. 

"A kiss. You never initiate it, you never kiss me first." 

"We've barely kissed!" 

"So? Kiss me. You kiss me. Do it." 

"What?" I laughed incredulously. 

"Do it, Delilah. Right now. Kiss me," he demanded. 

My eyes fell to his lips and I found myself leaning in. I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his, trying not to think about it whatsoever. But how the hell could I not? In that moment of the kiss, our chemistry becomes an ever bright flame. I felt it the first time he kissed me too. 

When we kiss, it seems impossible to stop. I don't want to stop, it feels like I can't get enough of him, I can't get close enough. We're nowhere near loving each other, but his kisses feel like a million loving thoughts tied together in one moment. In his kiss... I'm home. 

He broke the kiss with a groan and sat up against the headboard before tugging at my arm and urging me to get on top. I stopped, palming his chest and staring at him. I shook my head softly. He blinked in confusion. "Why?" 

"I'm scared," I admitted. "I've never..." 

"Done that before," he sighed, realizing. "It's okay. I leave it up to you." 

"Really?" 

"Of course, Daisy." He put his hands up in surrender. "All yours. Take it or leave it, up to you. No issues," he grinned, winking.

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Chapter 21

I HATE school but I love writing and I love them.

PSA: This book might be just a bit shorter than most of my books just because I'm writing royalty after a long time, so I'm working my way back into it and easing back into it, please don't hate me for making this book shorter <3

next chapter: vows