MARRIAGE MATERIAL
Chapter 1
MM Minilist & Main Masterlist
warnings! fem!reader, use of y/n, swearing, old creepy rich men, alcohol mentions, toxic family dynamics, psychology inaccuracies, cliffhanger?
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You reach for the champagne off a waiter's tray the second you enter the gala, the first of many, you think as an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. Tonight, will be a night to remember.
"There she is, we didn't think you were coming." You plaster a fake smile on your face, "Why on earth not, you did like my Instagram post, so you must've known?" Your mother the devil laughs. It's a fake, airy sort of thing that hurts your ears, something resembling a banshee's wail.
Your sister hides her grimace well, watching carefully as you take a slow sip from your nearly empty glass of champagne, "you do know it's not that kind of a party."
An hour passes, the slowest bloody hour of your life you muse, as you listen to yet another balding man whisper in your ear about the new yacht he just bought with the money he saved from not paying his taxes. He shifts even closer going in for the killer line that must get all the girls. You shift away, watching his hand carefully that inches closer towards your waist. "Sorry, you must excuse me, I've been dying to go to the bathroom and I wouldn't want to shit on your expensive suit." His face blanches as he stammers at your crude language, eyes wide in shock as you walk away with a practiced elegance.
Fuck. You should've brought a jacket with you, you think as you step outside into the cool Monaco air. Hmmm maybe something leather? Well, there's always a next time.
You bump harshly into a tall man, his arms circling around your waist to steady you, lightly creasing his Valentino suit. You always were a clumsy fucker.
"Nice work you did there." he calls out, referring to your classy escape from the bald man, before re-entering the gala. You don't bother looking up at the man interrupting your internal dialogue but a smile, the first and only genuine one of the night, slides onto your face.
The night spirals as it always does. You aren't quite sure how many glasses of champagne you've drank but clearly you haven't drank enough.
"Ah, there you are! It feels as if I haven't seen you since you walked in." Not like you've been avoiding them or anything.
"We were just discussing your older brother's wedding." You come from a fairly large family of three brothers, one sister and you, the youngest and only fuck up. Makes sense why they'd stop procreating after you. "Well, I wouldn't know since I wasn't invited." Silence.
Then she smiles, far too wide, far too calculated. "My darling husband and I were thinking of renewing our vows there next summer. One year anniversary. Isn't that romantic?" Your mother lets out an excited shrill while you blink, "you've been married for 6 months." She ignores you, then pauses considering her next move before striking. "You never were this rude to me when we were younger. You could at least pretend to be happy for me... maybe then you'd be invited."
You clench your jaw as your mother sighs, scolding you. "Be kind, darling. She's just excited."
Your sister leans in, eyes sharp. "I can see all your micro expressions, you know. Every twitch, every eyeroll. You're practically screaming." Some fucking expert you are, with a PhD in Clinical Psychology, you curse mentally. She tilts her head, "I should write a book about you. The self-sabotaging youngest sibling. The one who always runs away. It would be a bestseller, don't you think daddy?" Your father always chooses the best moments to walk into a family discussion, not that there's anything family about it when everyone can bloody hear. You clench your fists, nails stabbing into the palm of your hand.
You gracious mother starts again, "Maybe if you took your sister's advice, your relationships would last longer than... what was it last time, sweetheart? A month?." And this time, your father decides to chip in, "Or you'd actually be in one. Maybe even bring home a respectable man for once." He lets out a loud booming laugh as some of the guests chuckle along with him, enjoying the show. Your sister snorts, "but daddy, I don't think she's ever dated a respectable man in her life."
You take a deep breath, unclenching your fists and jaw. You're tired, pissed, your feet hurt and you've probably got blisters (not that it would usually bother you but it certainly wasn't helping). You were done.
Then it happens. One of your bright ideas.
"Well, unfortunately for you," your voice steady as you deliver the bomb, "I'm engaged."
"To who?" your sister asks, too quickly.
"The wedding's in six months."
A warm hand wraps around your waist. Low and intentional. You feel his Valentino suit against your skin. He's soft spoken, smug, and utterly unbothered, just as before. You still haven't dared to look up.
© credits to ZYA8TRACKS/ZYAFICS for the layout
DREW'S NOTES... dun dun dunnn !!!!! who is this mysterious man?
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