The Proposal - Kitty Thomas Page 0,1
Is it our jet now? Or am I merely an indefinite extra on his stage? I'm not really sure anymore.
We don't speak during the limo ride to the reception. I don't know what to say to him. Suddenly, for the first time ever, I have no words. All I can think about is what will happen later when there are no longer hordes of unassuming guests to protect me from his attentions. I feel more and more uncertain about this devil's bargain I've made—like I ever had a choice.
He would have destroyed me. At least this way there's a veneer of love and respectability. At least this way it looks like he is giving me the world instead of taking it all away.
I glance up to find his triumphant gaze locked on mine. It scares me as much as it thrills me, and then his thumb is stroking the back of my hand again. I find the courage to speak, but the words fly out of my mind as soon as they appear as the limo comes to a stop in front of the hotel.
The door is opened for us and my husband guides me out, helping me so that my dress doesn't get dirty. Husband. That word feels so strange to me. So wrong and somehow scandalous. This can't be real.
His grip on my hand tightens as he leads me up the stairs and through the hotel lobby back to where our reception is starting. The guests are already seated and being served their dinner. We're led to our own private table at the front of everything. Some people come by and talk to him. He's so polite to everyone, so normal, so different from the man I've come to know.
As we eat, silverware clinks against glasses, and each time we kiss as expected. Before the first dance, he rises from his chair, takes the microphone that is handed to him, and addresses our crowd of guests. And he is so charming. So smooth. The perfect beautiful lie.
“Livia and I would like to thank you all so much for coming to share this special day with us and supporting us as we start our life together. Don't get too creeped out, but I filmed the proposal. If she'd said no, I would have burned the evidence.”
Obligatory laughter. He continues.
“But it occurred to me that probably many women wish they had a video of the proposal. And so now she does. With Livia's permission I'd like to share that video with you now.”
Our guests are very excited about this prospect. No one knew they'd be seeing this. A large projector is rolled out along with a screen and a few minutes later a video begins to play.
He and I are on his boat in the middle of the ocean. I'm lying in the sun in a red bikini and oversized dark sunglasses. He approaches with a wrapped gift. It's large—about the size of a Labrador puppy.
“Livia, I have something for you.”
My eyes light up on the screen. “A present? Is it a pony?”
He chuckles. “Not a pony.”
“A Ferrari?”
“Nope.”
Our guests laugh at my antics, their anticipation growing, knowing somehow inside that giant box is a ring.
“Open it,” he says.
I dutifully open it, only to find another gift wrapped box, then another, then another as I go through about five boxes, each time, the gift getting smaller and smaller.
“Is it an empty box?”
He chuckles again. “No. There's something in there.”
I open the final box to find a blue box. Yes, that blue box. A box from Tiffany in just the right size.
The me on the video screen looks up at him and says playfully, “Is it a clown pin?”
He laughs again. “No.”
I open it and start to cry when I see the ring.
He gets down on one knee and says, “Livia Fairchild, will you be my person?”
I'm blubbering and crying and say, “Yes, I will be your person.” We kiss. He puts the ring on me. It's all so perfect.
Our guests say a collective, “Awwww” as the screen goes black. Then they're back to clinking their silverware against their glasses, and he leans over and kisses me again.
Before he pulls away, his mouth brushes my ear. “Time's up. You're mine tonight.” His words are a growl so different from the version of himself that everyone else in this ballroom sees. It's jarring the way he can go from this charming facade to something so dark and menacing in an eye blink—the way