But I didn't feel anything. I simply shrugged, spreading my hands lazily. “Go ahead.”
A few minutes later, the dressing room door swung open with a loud bang.
A tall young woman then swept in, surrounded by bodyguards. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor.
“Eric,” she snapped, her voice crisp and cold. “You can’t even handle something this simple? What am I paying you for?”
I turned toward her and asked, “So, you’re Felicity Young, my fiancée?”
I studied her carefully, and I'd admit, she was stunning. Nearly five-foot-seven, her white wedding gown hugged her curves perfectly. If not for that icy look in her eyes, she could’ve passed for a goddess.
“Miss Young,” I said politely, “since it’s our first time meeting, allow me to properly introduce myself. I'm Trevor Dalton. I came from a military—”
“No need,” she cut me off mid-sentence, flicking her hand dismissively. “I have zero interest in who you are.”
I had planned to introduce my background, maybe give her a reason to drop that arrogance. But apparently, this woman wasn’t the type to listen.
The way she looked at me said it all. In her eyes, I was just another gold-digging man chasing her family’s fortune.
“Miss Young,” I said calmly, “I understand this marriage was arranged by our parents, and that we’ve never met before. But cutting me off before I can even finish a sentence? Don’t you think that’s a little disrespectful?”
Her face darkened instantly.
“Disrespectful?” she snorted. “Mr. Dalton, do yourself a favor and look in the mirror. Do you really think you deserve my respect?”
She then gave a derisive laugh and tossed her hair. “Let me make one thing clear. If it weren’t for my father forcing me to marry you, I wouldn’t even glance your way. You’re nothing but a useless freeloader who lives off women.”
By now, her voice had risen, and she turned to address everyone in the room, making sure they all heard.
“And one more thing, don’t even think that after the wedding you’ll be part of my family. Without my permission, you don’t get to touch me. Not even once!”
Her words were sharp enough to slice through the air.
But I met her glare without flinching, my tone flat and emotionless.
“If you hate marrying me that much,” I said quietly, “then why force yourself?”
Then, after a brief pause, I added, “Why don’t we just call off the wedding? It’d be better for both of us.”