Marriage with His Uncle!

Dangerous game.

As soon as we were out of the restaurant and the doors had swung shut behind us, Nash’s composure shattered. He let go of my hand and shoved both of his into his pockets, his body tense with fury. I could feel the anger radiating off him. "Don't engage with him," he growled, his voice low and guttural. He was so pissed, so completely consumed by his rage that he couldn't even stand to look at me. The frustration was a palpable thing, and the fact that he couldn't do anything about it only made it worse.

I decided to play my part. I pulled on an innocent face and tilted my head, feigning confusion. "Why?" I asked, my voice soft and laced with a false sense of concern. "Did he harm you in some way?" My heart was still pounding from Luther's words, a cold fear coiling in my stomach, but I forced the feeling down.

To the rest of the world, the Greys were a picture-perfect family, a real-life fairytale. They had meticulously curated an image of a flawless, happy home—the kind you'd see on a magazine cover. But what went on inside their sprawling mansion was a tightly guarded secret, one I, as their future daughter-in-law, was still not privy to. I would have been completely in the dark if it weren't for Kylie. She was my only source of information, and she had to be pushed to her limits to reveal her family's dirty little secret.

Kylie had always been a firecracker. Her frustrations and anger with her family were a regular topic of conversation, but she never revealed much about the family's internal dynamics. One night, after a particularly heated argument with her family, she spilled everything. She ranted for hours about how they treated Luther, the youngest of the four Grey sons, like garbage. She told me how they spoke to him with disdain, how they ignored him, and how they made him feel like he was an outsider in his own home. He was a black sheep, an outcast, a ghost in his own family's portrait of happiness. And all of it, every last bit of it, was highly confidential, a secret she had never even dared to breathe to anyone before.

It was a stark contrast to the perfect family I saw at their formal dinners and galas. I had always noticed that Luther was cold and reserved, but I had attributed it to his aloof nature. I never imagined that it was a result of his family's subtle cruelty.

At my question, Nash's expression quickly morphed from pure rage to a carefully constructed mask of neutrality. He seemed to realize he was on the verge of slipping up, of revealing something he shouldn't. "He's my uncle," he said, his voice flat. "I'm just worried you'd be bored in his company." The excuse was weak, but I knew why he used it.

He couldn't admit they weren't close, not when he believed I was under the impression that the Greys were one big, happy family. He was trapped in the very lie he'd helped create.

"What? Not at all," I replied, feigning innocence. "In fact, he's very..." I paused, my eyes widening slightly as if I'd just caught myself. I pulled on a bashful expression, deliberately letting the sentence hang in the air for him to fill with his own anxious imaginings. The look on his face was a mix of confusion and building dread. "Anyways," I continued, "he's really cool."

I immediately changed the subject, my tone breezy and carefree, as if nothing had happened. But the look on Nash's face told me everything I needed to know. His expression darkened, and he clenched his jaw and fists so tightly I was worried he'd crack a bone. The idea that his uncle—the man he clearly despised—had managed to charm me in a single lunch seemed to be eating him alive.

How could Nash possibly endure it? His uncle, Luther, a man he clearly despised and considered his biggest competitor, was not only charming me but was doing so right before our wedding. The anxiety must have been eating him alive.

"Oh," I said, a look of faux understanding on my face. I nodded along, as if his flimsy excuse about my being bored was a serious piece of advice. The simple gesture seemed to smooth out the tense lines around his mouth, but the concern in his eyes lingered, a deep, unsettling darkness. He was still worried, and it was a look that felt both satisfying and a little frightening. The silence that fell between us was heavy with all the things left unsaid, all the secrets I know and all the ones he was desperately trying to keep hidden.

Nash broke the silence with a simple statement. "Let me drop you home," he offered, but his voice lacked its usual warmth.

The thought of being trapped in his car with him—just the two of us—filled me with dread. The casual offer felt more like a command. I was still reeling from Luther’s pointed words and I needed time to process everything, and the last thing I wanted was to be alone with the man who was the source of my turmoil. I racked my brain for an excuse, any excuse, to escape when, as if the universe had heard my silent plea, my phone began to ring.

My phone rang again. I thanked the God's for listening to my prayers as I glanced at the unknown number. I glanced at Nash, who was still fuming, and quickly answered the phone, trying to appear as normal as possible.

"Hello?" I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"You left your dress," Luther's smooth, raspy voice came through the phone, sounding extra smooth and deep, making me gulp and my heart skip a beat.

Nash's curious gaze was fixed on me, and I averted my eyes, trying to come up with words that wouldn't alert him to the identity of the person on the other end. This was the perfect opportunity to get Nash off my back, and I couldn't let him know that I needed to go back inside, especially not back to his uncle. He would never let me go alone.

"Okay, is it in the same location?" I asked, trying to keep my tone as formal and impersonal as possible.

"I've left for my home," Luther said, his voice dropping an octave. "Come get it from there."

I bit my lip to stop myself from groaning. The Grey mansion—the place where Luther still lived to maintain the public image of a perfect family—was the last place I wanted to be right now. And going there and sneaking into his room would cause a huge commotion if I was caught. It was a risky game he was playing, and he knew it.

When I didn't reply, he chuckled, and his voice took on a playful, teasing tone. "Just make sure no one catches you sneaking into my room."

I could feel Nash's eyes burning a hole in the side of my head. I had no choice but to agree.

"Okay, I'll be there soon," I said, my voice shaking a little. I ended the call and put the phone back in my purse, my mind racing.

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