Sparkless Mistletoe

CHAPTER TWO

Guin

After that…scenario, night has come deeper and I couldn’t, of course, sleep in the same room as Andrei anymore—not after everything that happened. The very thought of sharing a space with him sent a chill down my spine.

Bracing myself, I stood tall in front of him, wanting to show off my stand on this relationship he couldn’t care for. “You know this won’t work out anymore, right?” perhaps he’s not used to seeing me look at his eyes, or perhaps he’s just ridden with guilt, but he can’t keep his gaze at me…no matter how much his face expresses disagreement with me.

“You’re acting ridiculous, Guin,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “You think sleeping somewhere else is going to change what happened?”

“Yes,” Not backing down, I spoke coldly, crossing my arms. “It’s going to change the fact that I don’t have to share a bed with a man who kissed my best friend.”

Abigail, hovering awkwardly by the doorway, opened her mouth to speak, but I have no energy left to argue with two people at once, so I silenced her with a sharp glare. “Don’t even try to justify it, Abigail.”

With a huff, Andrei stormed out of the room, leaving me to stand alone in the heavy silence. Sighing, I blinked away the forming tears, grabbed my suitcase, and marched to the reception desk to request another room.

“I’m sorry, miss. But Palacios is fully booked. We have every rooms occupied, including the VVIP section.” Apologetically, she smiled after lowering the telephone down.

“Oh, it’s okay.” Smiling, I held my suitcase tighter in my hand before turning, moving to wherever my feet took me again.

***

“You’re on deck 18? Fancy. That’s where my room is too. 1881.”

Remembering Vincent’s room number, I strengthened my resolve and went there. Hesitant, I took slow, cautious steps, hoping to not bump into Andrei or Abigail just yet. Once I am in front of Vincent’s room, I stood there like an abandoned child for a moment before knocking softly.

The door opened almost immediately, and Vincent stood there, his dark hair damp from a recent shower and a smirk already tugging at his lips. He leaned against the doorframe, his blue eyes raking over me with amused curiosity.

“Well, well,” he drawled, crossing his arms. “If it isn’t my fiancée. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Don’t start,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “I need a place to stay. My room is… no longer an option.”

His smirk widened, and he stepped aside, motioning for me to enter. “By all means, princess. Make yourself at home.”

The cabin was spacious, more luxurious than I expected, with warm lighting and soft, plush furnishings. It was oddly inviting, but I couldn’t shake the awkwardness of being here with Vincent. “Who knew I’ll see you in my place, all alone and defenseless.” He teased.

“You can have the couch,” he said, pointing to the small loveseat near the window. “The bed’s mine.”

“Fine,” I muttered, dragging my suitcase toward the couch. “I’m not here to make myself comfortable anyways. I just needed some time to sort things out and find somewhere else to stay”

He chuckled, closing the door behind him. “Good, because you won’t be feeling princess-y on that couch. That isn’t exactly five-star comfort.”

Ignoring him, I curled up on the couch, using my jacket as a makeshift blanket. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the ship’s engine, but I could feel Vincent’s gaze lingering on me. “It’s been years and you’re still a pathetic rich girl who can’t do anything on her own.”

“Shut up.” As much as I wanted to argue, I know deep inside me that he’s right…without anyone to support me, I am nothing.

“You know,” he said finally, his tone softer now, “you don’t have to let him get to you.”

I stiffened but didn’t respond.

“Just saying,” he continued, his voice calm. “The guy’s not worth it.”

Turning slightly, I glared at him. “And you would know?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. “I know what it looks like when someone’s grasping at straws to make themselves feel powerful. Your ex? Classic case.”

“Ex...” I didn’t want to admit it, but his words stung with truth. Andrei had been controlling in subtle ways, always framing it as care or concern. But tonight, seeing him with Abigail under the mistletoe… it shattered any illusions I had left.

“By the way, princess.”

Annoyed, I huffed and looked at him. “What?”

“….You lost your vision once?”

Not wanting to talk about it, I turned, closing my eyes to show my disinterest in the topic.

.

.

.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of soft knocks on the door. Vincent, already up and dressed in a crisp button-down shirt, opened it while I groggily sat up on the couch, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Mr. Laurent!” a cheerful voice greeted. “We’ve brought breakfast for you and your fiancée. Congratulations again on your engagement! It’s all anyone’s talking about!”

My stomach dropped as I remembered last night’s spectacle. Vincent thanked the staff member and closed the door, turning to me with a tray of food and a smug grin.

“Well,” he said, setting the tray on the small table, “looks like we’re the ship’s new power couple.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “This is a nightmare.”

“Relax, princess,” he said, handing me a cup of coffee. “It’s not like we’re actually engaged.”

“Tell that to everyone else,” I muttered, sipping the coffee and trying to ignore the way Vincent’s smirk made my pulse race.

***

The day only got worse. Everywhere I went, people stopped to congratulate me. Crew members offered compliments on the "beautiful proposal," and passengers asked about our "wedding plans." Each interaction left me more frazzled, while Vincent seemed to thrive on the attention.

By lunchtime, I was at my wit’s end. I found Vincent in the dining area, casually sipping a drink as though the world hadn’t just decided we were the ship’s golden couple.

“You need to fix this,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Fix what? People love us.”

“This isn’t a joke, Vincent,” I snapped, my voice low but firm. “I can’t keep pretending to be your fiancée for two weeks.”

“Sure, you can,” he said with a smirk. “Unless you want to spend those two weeks explaining to every single person why we’re not actually engaged. Your call.”

I hated that he was right. The thought of correcting every rumor, every assumption, made my head spin.

“What’s your angle?” I asked suspiciously. “Why are you so eager to keep this going?”

He leaned back, his smirk softening into something more serious. “Let’s just say I have a reputation to protect. A public rejection like last night? Not great for my image. But with you, I can turn this whole thing around.”

“And what do I get out of it?” I challenged.

He shrugged. “Revenge, for one. Your ex and that Abigail chick are already squirming. Plus, it’s not like you’re walking around wearing a neon sign that says ‘I’m available.’ This keeps the creeps at bay. And you have a room to stay for free, Aren’t you gaining too much from this?”

I sighed, knowing he wasn’t entirely wrong. Andrei and Abigail had been glaring at me all morning, their tension almost palpable.

“Fine,” I said finally. “But we’re setting boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” he repeated, smirking again. “Sure, princess. Whatever you say.”

.

.

.

As we finalized our "contract" over lunch, I felt a familiar presence behind me. Turning, I saw Andrei standing there, his expression dark with anger.

“So, this is what you’ve been up to?” he sneered, his gaze darting between Vincent and me.

I stiffened, but Vincent remained completely unfazed.

“Andrei,” I said evenly. “This isn’t your concern anymore.”

“You’re really engaged, huh?” Andrei demanded, ignoring my words. “To him? I won’t acknowledge it until you tell me about it yourself. How long has this been going on, Guin?”

“None of your business,” Vincent said smoothly, standing up and placing a protective hand on my shoulder. “But if you must know, we’re very happy together.”

Andrei’s eyes burned with anger. “Don’t act like you’re some hero,” he snapped at Vincent. “I bet you don’t even know her the way I do.”

“I know enough,” Vincent said, his voice low and dangerous. “I know she deserves better than a cheating prick like you. You know her better?” he scoffed. “Why hook up with her best friend then? You think she’ll like it?”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Andrei faltered. Abigail appeared behind him, her face pale and anxious.

“Come on, Andrei,” she said softly, tugging at his arm. “Let’s go.”

But Andrei didn’t move. His gaze stayed locked on mine, a mixture of anger and something I couldn’t quite place—regret, maybe? Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh and stormed off, Abigail trailing after him.

Vincent sat back down, his smirk firmly in place. “You’re welcome,” he said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I felt a flicker of gratitude. Maybe this arrangement wasn’t the worst idea after all.