(Free Book): Will You Marry My Groom?

16

~ HAZEL ~

I had come to the realization that I couldn’t force Tristan to love me. If he claimed he felt nothing for me and could say such mean words to me like I had no emotions, like I was a useless piece of trash, then it was going to be so stupid to force myself into this. 

If he wasn’t going to apologize or still insisted that he wasn’t interested in loving me then I was definitely not going to bother him anymore, I wasn’t going to be desperate for his so-called “love”. 

He had to know what it felt like to be ignored, to be insulted. If after everything, he still wasn’t going to apologize or change then I was going to give up, I was going to ignore Charlotte and Kye’s advice to bear with him.

A middle-aged man approached us, smiling from ear to ear like he was the world's happiest man.

“Tristan…” he said cheerfully in his deep masculine Spanish accent. 

Tristan rose from his chair to give him a hug, also smiling. 

“Wow, you’ve grown so much, I remember when you were still so small.” He said, patting Tristan’s back. 

Tristan  let out a short laugh, pulling away from the hug. 

“¿Es ella la indicada?” He was clearly referring to me. 

“Yes. This is my wife, Hazel. Hazel, this is Mr. Hernández.”

“Oh,” I rose to my feet with a forced smile. “It’s really nice to meet you, Mr. Hernández.”

“Wow, your wife is very beautiful, son.” He said with a boyish grin.

“Thank you so much.” My face flushed red. 

“I've been dying to meet you but I have to leave now, I hope you enjoy your party. I’ve been begging Tristan for me to meet you but now that I have, it feels so great. I’ll pay you both a visit in America someday.” Why was this old man so cute?

“It’d be a pleasure.” 

He pulled me into a fatherly hug which only lasted for a few seconds because his phone started ringing. 

“Hello,” he said after answering the call. “Yes, I’m coming.” He said, walking away after a goodbye.

“I thought you’d be mean to him.” Tristan said, taking his seat.

I didn’t bother to respond to him and had my seat. 

“How long will this continue?” He frowned a bit. 

I still didn’t respond to him, grabbing a glass of wine from the tray a random waiter was holding. 

“Hazel!” He whisper-yelled. “I don’t want the internet to think our marriage isn’t perfect.”

The i***t only cared about his reputation.

Still didn't respond to him.

I continued with the silent treatment for the next couple of boring hours of being greeted by people and maintaining a fake smile, listening to the boring speeches from different people, and many more boring things. 

I wasn’t paying any attention to anything anymore, only ingesting the appetizer and wine (which was making me feel tipsy already) till I noticed people started heading towards the center of the grand hall. 

“It’s time for us to dance, Hazel.” Tristan said. 

“I’m not interested in dancing with you.” 

“Hazel,” he groaned. 

“You can dance with someone else, for all I care.” I waved my hand dismissively.

“Tristan?” An unfamiliar spanish-accent feminine voice called from behind us. 

We both glanced behind us, watching an extremely sexy goddess saunter to us, her hips swaying naturally with dark blonde waves bouncing on her head, crystal blue eyes glistening with excessive happiness.

“Mariana?” He smiled— a smile he never gave me. 

“Wow, it’s really nice to see you again.” 

“Yo también.” His smile extended to a grin. 

“This is my Mariana De León, she was my classmate in high school here in Spain.” He introduced to me. 

“Wow, that’s nice.” I wore a fake smile. 

“Mariana, this is Hazel, my wife.” 

Mariana’s smile dropped and was replaced with a weird look. “Oh, she’s… your wife?” she asked rhetorically, scanning me from head to toe with an even weirder look. “Nice to meet you.” She extended her hand for a handshake. 

I didn’t want to but I accepted her hand for a shake. 

“I expected someone more… I don’t know… I didn’t expect your wife to look…” she trailed off, letting go of my hand with a forced smile, “…very beautiful and 'expensive'.” That was obviously sarcastic. 

“Hmm.” I nodded with a faker smile, trying to hide the weird emotion crawling into my heart.

“I thought you were going to marry Indy but you ended up marrying…” she trailed off again, staring at me with slight disgust hiding behind her smile, “…her.” 

I turned my face away from her, gulping a glass of wine at one drought. 

“Hey, beautiful. I’ve been watching you for a while now and you seem like you came alone.” Another sexy and obviously Spanish man approached me. Why were all the men in this country so sexy with a great attractive voice? 

I forced a smile at him while Mariana’s voice kept bothering my ears. 

“Would you like to dance with me?” He winked. 

I glanced at Tristan who was still smiling and chatting with Mariana, not caring that the b***h just indirectly insulted me.

“Sure, why not.” I said out of anger, pouring myself another glass of wine and took it in one drought. 

“Wow.” He smiled, extending his hand. 

I took his hand and he assisted me to my feet, leading me to the dance floor. 

~ TRISTAN ~

What the heck just happened?

A random man just led Hazel to the dance floor and she accepted?

Mariana sat on Hazel’s seat, her smile leaving her face completely. “Why didn’t you marry Indy anymore?” 

I stopped myself from frowning. My other rich friends were always so interested in meeting my wife as one of the famous and extremely rich people, having like a billion social media followers and be excessively classy. Crazy people everywhere?

For some reason, Hazel didn’t wear any of the dresses I had bought for her but just a random dress. That didn’t make her any less sexy and beautiful—wait, what?

“I decide who I want to marry, not you.” I couldn’t stop myself from frowning this time. “Indy wasn’t good for me at all and Hazel is just too perfect for me. I believe it’s none of your business.” I averted my gaze to the dance floor. 

“Uh…” she cleared her throat, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave now. Fue bueno verte otra vez.” She got up from the chair and took her leave.

I scanned for Hazel and my head almost exploded from the fact that the man had his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders. 

This made no sense at all; their bodies were too close to each other— her breasts were literally pressed against his chest. This was very wrong. She was my wife, no one had the right to hold her and be this close to her. 

Was this intentional? If yes, then she was taking things too far already. 

Her dance seemed to attract more attention because people’s gaze were slowly shifting to them.

They were dancing really fast and in rhythm for the next few minutes. I didn’t want to go to her then receive a hard slap. It was crystal clear that she was still very mad at me, and Mariana must have elevated her infuriation. 

I watched them dance for a few more minutes but my hands were clenched into fists from the way the stranger was holding her like she was his possession and she wasn't complaining.

People were cheering and clapping for them. 

Judging from the way she was dancing extremely fast, I could tell she was tipsy. Whether or not people noticed, this dude was undressing 'my wife’ with his eyes. 

This nonsense had to stop. Whether or not she slapped me because she was slightly drunk, I couldn’t just let any man be this close to her and touch her this much. According to our marriage, I was the only one that had the right to touch her, not this i***t.

I rose to my feet, storming to the dance floor. 

The moment I stopped beside them, the song and the dance ended, increasing the volume of the cheering noises. 

“You dance so well. Can I have your phone number?”

“No, thank you.” I replied, gently pulling her from him with a small smile. “Your dance was great, my wife.” I pecked her cheek, sending a dangerous glare to the man. “She’s my wife, we're legally married.” I clarified, keeping my arm around her waist. 

He looked as confused as hell as I walked away from him and back to our seats.

After grabbing our phones and my wallet from our table, I left the hall with her. 

I was surprised she didn’t complain at all, getting into the car with her while the driver started the car.

Her expression was blank for about ten minutes till she chortled. “I want to dance so badly, it’s been a while.”

“You can dance with me when we return to the hotel. You shouldn’t dance in such a manner with another man, it’s not right for a married woman.” 

She scoffed. “You don’t decide what’s right or wrong to— oh my gosh!” Her scream definitely made me flinch.

“What?” 

“That’s a club.” She pointed out the window. 

“So?” 

“I badly want to go to one.” 

“No.” 

She frowned, turning to the car door. “I’ll jump out of this car and accuse you of abducting me if you don’t let me go now.’”

“Are you out of your mind?” I pulled her back. 

“Tristan, let me go, now!” She demanded. 

“It’ll make you happy?”

“Yes!”

I heaved a sigh. “Fine. Driver, pull over.”

Her face finally lit up with a real smile for the first time today.

For some reason, seeing her smile made me have a hint of joy. 

The driver pulled over then we got out of the car and to the club; I got us a VIP spot. 

The club was illuminated by a bright purple light, and had deafening music that could demolish an entire building from its sound waves.

People were dancing crazily, some were making out on the stage or at a corner without bothering about the presence of others. 

I held Hazel to avoid another man from snatching her from me. 

“Are you sure you want to be here?” I yelled and she nodded with absolute certainty.

We had our seat in the VIP spot, and she ordered drinks for us. 

After a few minutes, five bottles were arranged on our table. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re definitely not consuming that much alcohol. Please take them back.” 

“Leave it.” She said to the waiter who took his leave after a bow. “You don’t own my life. I feel so frustrated and need to get rid of my pain caused by an idiot.” She poured herself a glass, chugging its content. 

After emptying the content in the glass into her stomach, she poured herself another glass, gulping it at once. 

“This much alcohol isn’t good for you.” 

“Shut up!” She barked, bursting into laughter for no good reason. “You don’t control my life, I don’t control yours either. Just assume I’m a stranger— assume?” She laughed again. “I’m definitely a stranger to you. We don’t care about each other.” She poured herself another glass, chugging it down as well. 

“You’re paying for the drinks, right?” She asked with squinted eyes. 

“Yes.” I chuckled. 

“Great, because I’ve got no money. I’m so poor, just like Mariajana made it obvious.” Mariajana? Did she mean Mariana?

“That’s not true.” I poured myself a glass too, taking a chug. “You’re a billionaire’s wife; you’re also rich.”

“So true.” Her response was so sarcastic.

“Just don’t have any more drinks.”

“You know what?” She slammed her hands on the table, rising to her feet. “I just want to dance. That b***h indirectly said I'm ugly and worthless, right? That's what you think too but I'll show you sexy.” She laughed again, pouring herself another drink and chugged it, turning around.

“Hazel,” I called but she didn’t bother to answer me, only staggering to the stage. To be sincere, I actually wanted to see her dance. 

She said something to the DJ then a fast beat started playing. 

There was a pole in the middle of the stage which she held on to, dancing slowly at first. 

She was definitely not the only one on the stage but my focus was on only her, watching her start to sway her hips really fast according to the beat of the music. 

She continued dancing crazily for the next few minutes while I laughed my ass off at how funny yet impressive her dance was. 

When a slower music started, she held onto the pole, dancing around it extremely sexily.

She continued dancing around the pole for a few more minutes, way too raunchy for a married woman. 

Watching her dance so seductively was making me feel really strange, but I wasn’t the only man here— what if other men were starting to feel the same way too? Oh God.

She left the pole but was still dancing. Her attention was now to three unfamiliar men talking to her. 

“Jeez,” I jumped to my feet, picking my wallet and started walking to them. 

She nodded her head at them and was smiling so wide, still dancing. 

I got to them, just in time to slap the hand of one of them that attempted to touch her. 

“Don’t you dare touch her.”

“Just because she’s hot and you’re obviously rich doesn’t mean you can have her.” One of them barked. 

“Yeah! And she already agreed to be with Henry.” 

“Agreed?” I scoffed, pulling Hazel beside me. 

“Why do you care if I am with another man? I just want to talk to someone to share my pain.” She burst into laughter, moving around abnormally. 

“You’re drunk, let’s leave.” 

“No! I don’t want to go, I want to talk to Mr. Handsome, you’re a terrible person.” She burst into laughter again. 

“I think he’s trying to abduct her.” 

“Are you mad? She’s my wife.” 

“Yes, he's my husband, but he's very terrible.” She burst into laughter again, resuming her weird dance. 

“Let’s go!” I ordered, grabbing her hand. 

She fell on my chest, laughing again and tried to run away.

I groaned, lifting her off her feet in a bridal style.

*** 

“We’re at the hotel?” Hazel rubbed her eyes. 

“Yes,” I dropped her to lie on the bed. 

She held the collar of my shirt, pulling me to sit beside her on the bed. 

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you so much today,” she wrapped her arms around my neck with a drunken chuckle. “I love you but you’re a bad person.” Her fingers dug into my silky black hair, her hands felt like they melted my brain. 

She pouted like she was begging for my lips to be with hers. 

My face slowly leaned closer to hers, my heart was beating weirdly and I was feeling the strong urge to kiss her. Was it because she was too close to me or because my lips were dying to connect with hers?

Just a kiss won't hurt anyone, right? I thought to myself, closing the gap between our lips.

“What are you doing?” She jerked to her feet, frowning. “You can’t just kiss someone you feel nothing for." She barked, staggered to the couch, and dropped on it. 

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Couch…” she shut her eyes. 

I rolled my eyes, walking to her. “Get up!”

“No!” She protested. “I’ll stay here…” she pointed at her chest, lazily raising her hand to the bed. “You’ll sleep on the bed. You’ve hurt me too much to bear with… your foolishness.” She sounded so serious. 

How could I deal with her sleeping on the couch? Sleeping beside her had a natural calming effect on me. 

“So many men except you want me. Don’t worry, you don’t want me, we’ll get a divorce so we can both be happy.” She shut her eyes and turned her face away from me.

This woman had drunk way too much alcohol than she ought to, that’s clearly why she was saying nonsense. 

Shortly after, she started snoring. 

I placed a pillow below her head and covered her with a duvet (I had absolutely no idea why I was doing these when I could easily not do them).

Hopefully, she was going to return to her normal way by tomorrow and not be so cold because if she continued this way, I didn't think my heart was going to survive. 

I didn't want her but my heart was feeling like it needed her. I didn't want to be hurt again.