Bound By Vows, Sealed In Love

Caiden's jaw tightened as he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. Across the room, Melody watched with a mix of awe and concern. In her mind, Iris was fearless for asking what everyone else only whispered about. Yet her heart ached too—there was always some truth tucked away in these so-called games, and she guessed Iris had wanted to know the answer for a long time. Without breaking eye contact, Caiden fixed his gaze on Iris, his gaze deep and impossible to read. He didn't answer. Instead, he crushed out his cigarette, reached for a glass, and spoke in a measured tone. "I choose to drink." Iris didn't miss a beat. "Mix every drink on the table and finish it. That's the rule." Everyone knew mixing liquor was a surefire way to knock someone flat. Iris, of all people, would know how reckless it was. Caiden's lips curved into a faint smile. "You never fail to surprise me, Iris." "You're the one who couldn't keep up," Iris remarked. "If you had nothing to hide, you'd just say yes and move on." "You're asking me something that calls my character into question." Caiden reached for the nearest glasses, combined every last drop, and finished the whole thing in one go. The crowd watched in shock, no one daring to speak. It took a moment before Iris understood the message behind his refusal. If he really had been unfaithful, he would have just admitted it and saved himself the trouble. She let out a quiet, unimpressed, "Alright." She doubted his honesty either way. Caiden was simply playing it safe. He knew better than to leave any words behind that might come back to haunt him in court, especially if divorce ever became reality and she tried to claim he'd admitted to cheating, just to win a bigger share. After Caiden finished the mixed drink, his face looked a touch paler than before—though maybe it was only the room's harsh lighting. Maverick sensed the awkward current between Caiden and Iris, and tried to lighten the mood. "Well, it's getting late. Why don't we call it a night and pick this up some other time?" Relief swept through the group. "Yeah, let's do that. Next time." People got to their feet, eager to leave the tense air behind. Caiden didn't budge. He shot Maverick a look, one brow arching. "Funny. I haven't even had my turn yet and you're all running for the door?" Maverick laughed, shoulders sagging. "Alright, alright, ask away." He immediately regretted making things easier for Caiden. So far, the questions had either cut deep or drawn blood, with nobody pulling any punches. It seemed obvious to everyone that Caiden wanted a shot at getting back at Iris. The crowd waited, expecting him to throw her under the bus. Ariana was practically glowing at the idea of seeing Iris put on the spot, and she leaned in, ready for a show. With a slow, deliberate gaze, Caiden let his eyes settle on Iris. She felt his attention like a weight, sitting up just a little straighter. Then, out of nowhere, Caiden let out a soft laugh, almost playful. "Iris, did you dream about me last night?" That caught the entire room off guard. No one had expected that from him. Ariana nearly choked. "What kind of question is that supposed to be?" "I'll ask what I want, and it has nothing to do with you," Caiden retorted, barely glancing Ariana's way. She bit her lip, eyes brimming with hurt, but Caiden didn't spare her a single word. His attention shifted back to Iris. "Iris?" Memories flickered through Iris' mind, bringing her back to the night he'd come home from the police station. She pressed her lips together, then answered, "Yes." Caiden's lips curled up. "Was it that dream about us on the island?" Around the room, people traded confused glances, struggling to make sense of his gentle line of questioning. For a moment, it almost looked like he was taking it easy on Iris. Beneath the soft glow, no one noticed how Iris' cheeks flushed with heat as she thought of that four-day escape, the sun, the sea, the memories. It wasn't mercy—Caiden was speaking in a language only she could read, teasing her with memories no one else shared. She took another slow drink, catching his eyes over the rim of her glass, and finally let out a quiet, "Yes." "Do you want me to go home with you now, just like in that dream of yours?" Iris' composure slipped for just a moment. "I'd rather drink." Her hand went for the glass, but Caiden blocked her with a gentle, stubborn hand. "No dodging the question this time. You have to answer." Iris' eyebrows knit together. "Who said you get to change the rules?" Caiden gave a slow, almost careless grin. "Simple. I'm the one who set up this whole night. House rules, guest follows the host. Iris, you'll have to play along." Iris let out a breath, annoyance clear in her eyes. "Fine. Yes." Without another word, Caiden got to his feet, moving with a relaxed swagger that still managed to hint at something intimate. "Good, then. I'll go home with you." Mouths hung open all around the room as Caiden actually trailed after Iris, leaving the Brown Manor and sliding into the car without a backward glance. Iris hadn't come here with any plan to bring him home. Yet somehow, she'd pulled off exactly what Caroline had wanted all along. Neither of them spoke as the city lights flashed by. Iris kept her face turned toward the window, letting the glowing skyline blur into rivers of color—neon dancing across the glass, painting her eyes with flickers of light and shadow. Eventually, her gaze shifted, and she caught a faint outline of Caiden's face reflected in the window. Eyes closed, he looked both worn out and completely untouchable. She couldn't tell if he was sleeping or just lost in thought, but even in that hazy reflection, his sharp features stood out. Melody had once described him as the kind of man you could love and despise all at once, and tonight, Iris understood exactly what she meant. When the car rolled to a stop in front of the villa, Iris quietly opened her own door and stepped out, expecting Caiden right behind her. Instead, she turned and found herself alone. The driver met her with a worried look. "Mrs. Wells, I think Mr. Wells might be drunk." Iris walked back to check on him and noticed his skin looked too pale, a strange flush rising on his neck, the sharp tang of whiskey heavy on his breath. She had no idea just how much alcohol he could handle, but the mixed drink hardly seemed enough to knock him out. Then again, she didn't know how long he'd been drinking before she'd shown up—maybe he really had reached his limit. Iris turned to the driver. "Help him inside." As soon as the driver tried to support him, Caiden's brows knitted with irritation and he shoved the man's hand away. "Keep your hands off me." The driver hesitated, thrown off by the rebuke. "Mrs. Wells..." With a sigh, Iris stepped forward herself. She figured if he brushed her off too, she'd leave him in the car for the night. Surely he wouldn't mind sleeping in a luxury car. She reached for his arm, half-expecting him to push her aside. Instead, he leaned in, as if breathing her in, then quietly shifted so she could guide him out. Caiden's height made the trek upstairs awkward. More than once, Iris nearly crashed into the wall with his weight slung over her. By the time they reached the bedroom, she tried to let him drop onto the mattress, but Caiden's arm slid around her neck, dragging her down with him. As she tumbled onto the mattress, Iris landed right on top of him, her body sinking against his with no space left between them. Caiden let out a quiet sound, barely a groan, and his eyelids fluttered open. His gaze was hazy with drink, fixed solely on her. It struck Iris just how long it had been since they'd shared this kind of closeness—over a year. His body radiated heat, a low warmth mingling with the scent of whiskey that seemed to wrap around her and pull her closer, leaving her head spinning just a little. One of his hands drifted up, brushing her cheek with a slow tenderness that left her unable to move away, every bit of her drawn in by the gesture. A wild idea flickered in her mind—perhaps she should let things happen tonight, give him a child as some twisted form of repayment, and finally find the freedom to leave him behind for good.