Chapter Fourteen

Hazel wiped away her tears. She was beyond furious with herself for allowing Van to see her cry. After the ridiculous streaks for running makeup were gone, she reapplied her some foundation and disregarded her swollen eyes. There was nothing she could do for the redness. Sighing, Hazel began the impossible task of unraveling the mad network of fastening on the dress. She had hated it the moment she saw it and now she hated it more. The dress was everything she was not, and helped to tie her to a choice she knew that she would forever regret. After she threw the wedding dress to the side, Hazel changed into the shorter one for the reception.

Van stood staring at the dressing room, wandering why her sister or mother had not bothered to come help her. He was no expert on dresses, but that thing looked like a maze of fastenings. Just as he was going to throw caution to the wind by offering his help Hazel appeared at the door in a dress the same style as the original, but only knee high with a black top that matched his suit. Van straightened, keenly aware of every curve the waist line and skirt of the dress was clinging to.

She furred her brows at him, oblivious to her allure.

"Let's go then, Mrs. Steel." Van said after clearing his throat. He held out his bent arm for her to slip her hand through but Hazel hesitated.

"Va-Van?" Hazel swallowed, folding her hands into a tight fist behind her. She could feel the pain of her nails digging into her palm but tightened her hand as her anxiety heightened. "I- I don't want to. To go out there that is."

Hazel eyes stinged with more tears she refused to cry. Throughout the five years of her self-imposed exile Hazel had not felt more alone and lost than she did at that moment. Things in Chicago had not always been smooth sailing but none of it had meant being around the people who had made her lose faith in relationships. Her mother would give a toast, a speech no doubt written by her father that was filled with lies. Her sister would give one too, with all her contempt for Hazel dripping from every word. All the people she was supposed to love and cherish were making their way to the reception hall, and yet none of them were familiar to her. The people she knew looked down on her and the people she just met would eventually come to hate her just as everyone else did.

Hazel did not want to admit it, but she was afraid of the pain that would take over when everyone, even Van's theatrical friend Zash, would turn away from her. In her life, it seemed as if everyone did.

"You go. Tell them I've fainted or that I'm feeling queasy." She stepped back, "Anything."

Surprised, Van eyed her silently. His searched her face for a clue to her emotions, "Are you okay? I'll stay here with you or we can leave for the hotel now."

Van took a step forward, placing his hands on her hips but Hazel flinched back, "No. You can go."

Van scuffed, "No? Hazel, you are my wife. This is our wedding. There is no 'I' in team. I can't go to our reception alone. I can't leave you alone, especially if you aren't feeling well."

Hazel looked down at his hands that were hanging limply by his side. A pang of longing hit her even as she said, "Its not your responsibility to come at my beck and call. I am okay."

Van huffed, turning to the side to face away from her. He had never known such irony existed. One would think a woman would want a willing husband, yet his wife, for the life of him, wanted nothing to do with him.

"I am not leaving you. We are going to the hotel and I am going to take care of you. And don't take this the wrong way, it's not for you, but for the promises we just made. Remember? In sickness and in health."

Hazel bit her lip, wishing he would lay off her case. She knew for a fact that three of the women out there were exs of his. Their wandering eyes and lingering hugs said as much. Another fact that Hazel knew, was that he went around the block quite a few times.

"Promises are just that; promises." Hazel muttered bitterly. The fight had left her. She just wanted the day to end. Or to wake up from this horrid dream.

Seeing her crestfallen face paired with her catty remark, Van allowed the corners of his lips to twitch up in a smile, "Cantankerous as always."

He whipped out his phone and sent off a text message to Zash.

"Let's go." Zan put away his phone, "I told Zash to give us a few minutes before he announces that we went off."

Resigned, Hazel nodded sullenly. There was no room for argument as he pulled her down the stairs and out the doors. The sun rays slashed her burning eyes but she refused to close them. Van led Hazel to a slick black car, for they both had agreed and put their feet down on one thing; a wedding car, with all the trappings of advertising their new nuptials, was too flashy. Van opened the door, allowing Hazel in first then slid in beside her. Van gave the driver instructions and then closed the privacy sectional.

The bottle of wine that had been set in ice remained untouched the whole ride while Van resisted the urge to tuck Hazel under his arm. She was slumped to the side, eyes focused on nothing in particular. Her eyes still glistened with unshed tears, leaving Van to wonder what was so bad about marrying him. Then the thought hit him.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he asked, "Did you, uuh, were you involved with someone before? Is that why you are crying? Did you leave something special behind in Chicago?"

Hazel gave a bitter laugh, "Yes. A studio flat with lots of pussies."

Van scrunched his nose at her curse and the mental image of Hazel with... he shook his head to clear the imagery.

Hazel looked over, catching his expression before it changed. And she laughed a full belly laugh that made her eyes sparkle, "I meant my imaginary cats."

His eyes softened as he smiled, "Sure you did."

The moment of lightness lingered until Hazel spoke again, "We should discuss the terms of our marriage."

"I thought we already did that."

She turned from him once again, "I haven't changed my mind. I won't be with you."

Van did a double take, not sure if he had heard her right. His eyes bored into hers until she looked away, "Why can't we just have a moment of peace? Must you always insist on arguing?"

Tension simmered in the car. A moment later, just before they got out, Van agreed, "Fine, let's talk about it. But we'll need this." He grabbed the wine and promptly opened the car door when it came to a stop. Hazel stumbled out after him, her emotions wrapped up neatly and hidden away from the world.

The hotel they were staying at was luxuriously designed with sleek modern schemes and gold finishings. They hurried through the door and headed straight for the front desk with the porter wheeling what little luggage they had behind them.

The receptionist smiled flirtations at Van, her spine seeming to snap to attention. "Mr. Steel, it's a pleasure to see you back so soon."

Van casted a quick glance at her then looked back at Hazel who was glaring icy hot daggers at the woman.

"Our reservations, if you would." Hazel gritted out emotionlessly.

Seeming to only just register that Hazel was with Van, the receptionist blinked rapidly, her smile going back to professional. "Yes, of course. And you name is, ma'am?"

"Hazel Geo- Steel. Hazel Steel. The matrimonial suite, am I right?" Hazel smiled sweetly, turning to Van who hid his laughter behind a smirk.

"T-the matrimonial suite?" her eyes darted back and for between them. "Yes, Mrs. Steel. It's ready."

Hazel's eyes did not leave the woman as she hurried to collect everything she needed to, nor did she look at Van. When she was finally handed the keycard for their room, Hazel glanced over at Van then started to walk in the direction of the elevators. A part of her thought she was getting in over herself with her reaction to the receptionist, but she put it down to principles. People should be respectful and professional. The lady stepped over that boundary when she decided to play coy with a man who walked into her place of work with another woman.

Van watched her walk away then followed, stopping next to her to wait on the elevator. When it arrived, he allowed her to go in first and took the bags from the porter who had followed them. He was silently debating with himself whether her getting antsy about the lady flirting with him an obvious sign to doubt that she would want her husband with someone else. Was she playing games? Playing hard to get? For Van felt rather annoyed at the prospect.

"The bell boy was watching you." he informed her when they entered the suite.

Hazel turned her head to meet his eyes, "And?"

Van shrugged, "Just stating an observation." But it went without saying. With her hair still styled to perfection and the dress hugging her in all the right places she caught everyone's eyes.

Hazel continued walking around the suite, her eyes running over the luxury designs. When she lost interest, which happened quickly, she sat at the sofa by the balcony, staring out at the setting sun. It had taken a few hours to get to the hotel near New Jersey border. Hazel was honestly bone tired. Her brain and emotions were on over drive. Her arm ached and itched, her eyes stung from crying and her feet, strapped in stilettos, felt alien to her.

Van pushed his jacket from his shoulders, dumping it on the coffee table, where his vest soon joined it. His dark eyes raked over Hazel's enticing form, bathed in the fading orange glow of the sun set. He could not think of any scene that pulled at his very being than Hazel looking vulnerably open and sweet. Any scene, that is, except a mental image he had of her sitting there naked and beckoning him to join her.

Sweet. The taste and feel of her lips came back to him; and somehow, the only way to describe them was as sweet. Van wanted to feel them against his lips again, and against many other uncharitable places.

"I'll go take a shower. Would you mind ordering for us? Anything is fine." he murmured to her, knowing full well that his haunting desire would not be full filled by his wife. A cold shower would be best.

Hazel watched as Van disappeared into the bathroom. His hair was sticking up in weird angles giving his rogue features a stronger impression. Hazel wanted to run her hands through his hair, perhaps even kiss him again, but she knew that her heart was fickle pieces of china, glued together but not whole. She would never survive another betrayal or heart break. She would never survive getting attached, or worse, falling in love. And he was exactly the type that would have her falling hard and fast.

"Love is a disease. Don't forget that."

Hazel knew that it was not like that for everyone. There were lucky people in the world who got their happily ever after. But so far, that side of luck had not graced her. Her own parents for example; their 'love' for each other were diseases of the worst caliber. The possessive, controlling behavior Lionel George displayed was like poison ivy. It left marks, the marks being sucking Clara George to nothing but a fragile by-stander. No matter what Hazel would always hate her father for suffocating her mother; for killing her spark.

"Have you ordered?"

Her eyes wandered up to meet Van's. The blue orbs were trained on her, even as his hands towel dried his hair. She looked away, or, at his bare chest. She ached to feel his firm abdomen with her palms but she muttered her mantra, "Love is a disease. Don't forget that."

"Huh?" Van questioned.

She shook her head, "Nothing. I ordered but it will be a while. Until then, let's go over our agreement."

Van rolled his eyes, picked up the bottle of wine they had brought up and poured a tall glass for himself and another for her. Surprisingly, Hazel took up the bottle, turning it to her head.

"I'm all ears." he muttered bitterly. 

*****FORCED*****