Wife To Be

POV: CELESTE

The aesthetician wiped the last trace of soothing mask from my face, but my mind remained miles away. Declan’s enchanting, deep voice continued to echo in my head, a fairytale promise pulling me through the lingering awkwardness of spending the afternoon with Mom Vivienne. I floated in a warm, breathless haze. His rich laughter replayed on a loop, making me forget the sheer madness of my impending arranged marriage. For a few blissful minutes, the heavy dread was gone.

We finally exited the pristine glass doors of the exclusive skin clinic. The crisp afternoon air hit my cheeks, but before I could take a deep breath, brutal reality crashed down on us.

"Over here! Celeste!"

A massive swarm of aggressive paparazzi surged forward from the street corner. The quiet sidewalk erupted into a chaotic mess of shoving bodies, thrusting microphones, and blinding camera flashes. My heart slammed against my ribs. I stumbled back as the mob heavily surrounded us, blocking our path to the waiting luxury SUV.

"Is she the bride of your son?" a man shouted, shoving a recording device toward my face.

"Why hasn't her face been revealed yet?"

"Is this an arranged marriage, or have they been dating for long?"

The questions flew like physical blows. The flashing lights burned my retinas. Mom Vivienne acted quickly. She stepped in front of me, throwing her designer scarf and coat over my head, physically shielding my face from the relentless cameras.

"Keep moving," she ordered over the din. Her bodyguards formed a tight wall around us, shoving the intrusive reporters aside to forge a narrow path. I kept my head down, my ears ringing with the overlapping shouts. The guards yanked the heavy car doors open, and we scrambled inside. The doors slammed shut, cutting off the noise instantly.

I slumped against the plush leather seat, gasping for air. My hands shook in my lap.

Mom Vivienne smoothed her pristine hair, unbothered by the chaos outside. She glanced at my trembling frame. "You will eventually have to get used to this, Celeste," she noted casually. "The media attention never sleeps. This incredibly exhausting, public affluent lifestyle is your reality now."

I stared out the tinted windows at the reporters still pounding on the glass. Being rich seemed more like a prison than a privilege. I missed the simple, quiet anonymity of my old life.

The driver pulled away, leaving the media circus behind. We drove toward the beautiful new suburban house Mom Vivienne had generously bought in my father's name. It sat on a quiet, tree-lined street, a stark contrast to the madness we just escaped.

I gave Mom Vivienne a brief hug of gratitude before stepping out of the car. I waved her goodbye as the SUV rolled away, then turned toward the front door.

The moment I stepped into the foyer, a familiar weight slammed into my midsection.

"Hazel eyes!" Chloe cheered, tackling me with her usual enthusiastic greeting. I stumbled backward, laughing as I hugged my younger sister. I always forgot she was nearly fifteen and growing taller every day.

"Okay, okay, let me breathe," I managed to say, prying her arms loose.

"Our bride seems to be so busy," a teasing voice echoed from the top of the stairs.

Chloe pulled away, and I shrieked. Sloane and Stella stood on the landing, grinning ear to ear. I dropped my purse and ran up the stairs. We instantly collapsed into a tight, screaming hug. I hadn't realized how much I missed them over the past few chaotic days.

"Your new home is amazing," Stella joked as we piled into my new bedroom. "I told your mom to adopt me when you get married."

"I miss you guys," I confessed, falling backward onto the massive mattress.

"We miss you too," they chorused, jumping onto the bed beside me. Chloe had already wandered outside to play, leaving us to our privacy.

"So tell us everything," Stella demanded, sitting cross-legged and ready for gossip. "What has been happening?"

I dove headfirst into the chaotic wedding preparations. I told them about the endless fittings, the skin treatments, the media mob, and finally, my blush-inducing thoughts regarding Declan. I recounted our recent phone call, my cheeks burning pink as I described the dark, teasing edge to his voice. Sloane and Stella squealed, taunting me mercilessly about my obvious crush on my own fiancé.

The lighthearted, giddy mood filled the room, making me feel like a normal girl again.

Then, Sloane asked the one question I dreaded. "So... what about Cal?"

The giggles died in my throat. The giddy mood shattered, replaced by a heavy, sickening guilt washing over me. My smile fell, and the room went dead silent.

"Are you okay?" Sloane asked, noticing my sudden shift.

I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest. "I still haven't told him yet."

"Celeste, he isn't far away," Sloane reminded me gently.

"I know. I just can't do it. Each time I try to pick up the phone, the words stick in my throat. How can I tell my boyfriend that I am getting married to a billionaire in a few days?" Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. "It feels like I used him. Like I never valued our relationship."

"Do you want us to do it for you?" Stella offered.

I looked up, horrified. "Sending my friends to break up with him? That is terrible."

"We could explain the complex situation better than you can right now," Sloane reasoned, putting a comforting hand on my knee. "You are drowning in wedding prep and paparazzi. We can sit down with him, tell him the truth about the Vance family and the arranged marriage. Cal is sensible. He will eventually understand."

I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. The thought of facing Cal’s broken heart made me sick to my stomach, but carrying this secret felt just as bad. Maybe having them explain it was the coward's way out, but it was the only option I had left.

"Okay," I whispered, the guilt still twisting my insides.

"It will be fine. Come on, cheer up, Mrs. Declan Vance," Stella teased, trying to lift the gloom. My cheeks flushed pink again at the sound of the name.

Stella started singing a cheesy love song, forcing me to cover my face in embarrassment.

Just then, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it, frowning at the screen. It displayed an unknown number.

I swiped to answer. "Hello?" I said.

Silence met my greeting. I waited, listening closely, but no one spoke. I pulled the phone away to stare at the screen again, wondering if it was a prank call or a reporter who somehow got my number.

"Can you say something?" I asked into the silence. "You can't just remain quiet. I have..."

"I am amazed at how your voice makes me feel," a familiar, grounding voice replied.

My breath hitched. The deep timbre sent a wild flutter of butterflies straight through my stomach. It was Declan. I had been so caught up in the gossip and the guilt that I forgot he promised to call back.

I glanced up. Sloane and Stella were staring at me, their eyes wide with curiosity.

"Declan?" I asked, just to be sure.

Sloane and Stella practically squealed in sheer excitement. They scrambled across the bed, trying to press their ears against the back of my phone.

"Is there someone else you are going to get married to?" Declan asked.

"Is that him?" Sloane mouthed wildly, pointing at the device. I nodded.

She opened her mouth to shriek, but I quickly pressed a finger to my lips. I shoved Stella's shoulder, gesturing frantically toward the door. I knew I couldn't talk to my fiancé in peace with them hovering over me like vultures.

They pouted and rolled their eyes, but eventually slid off the bed. I playfully shooed them out of the room. The moment they crossed the threshold, I shut the door and locked it.

I let out a long breath, settling comfortably onto the pillows. "I didn't think you would call," I murmured softly.

"Why wouldn't I? You are my wife to be and my utmost priority," he replied smoothly.

My toes curled into the mattress. "I was just busy. Sorry if I called too late."

"It's fine. I just had my bath and was going to sleep afterward, probably," I lied, knowing my friends would have kept me up until dawn with their interrogations.

"You shouldn't say things like that to me," Declan warned, a wicked edge creeping into his tone. "I am a man. I am allowed to have nasty thoughts."

My face burned hot. "Naughty," I shot back dramatically. "I said everything with the absolute innocence of my heart."

He chuckled, a dark, rich sound that made my pulse race. "Yeah, right. You ain't so innocent anymore. Don't act."

The blood drained from my face. The playful banter slammed into a massive wall of panic. Pure dread seized my chest as an unconsidered, terrifying reality hit me.

He thought I was experienced.

He didn't know that I was still a virgin.

The word echoed loudly in my head. Virgin. My mind spiraled into a dark abyss of anxiety. We were getting married in a matter of days, which meant we were going to have a wedding night. He would expect us to have sex. He would expect me to know what I was doing in bed, to match those nasty thoughts he just mentioned. I had no idea how to please a man like him. I was utterly terrified of the physical reality of our impending wedding night. What if he was disappointed? What if he was angry that I kept this from him?

My throat tightened. I squeezed my eyes shut, paralyzed by the fear of the unknown.

"Hey... are you there?" Declan asked. The teasing note vanished from his voice, replaced by concern. "I didn't mean to say anything wrong."

"Oh... no. No, you didn't say anything wrong," I stammered, gripping the phone tighter.

"Are you okay?" he asked, picking up on the sharp edge of panic in my tone.

"No... something made me nervous," I admitted truthfully.

"What?"

I went mute again, my teeth biting down on my lower lip.

"Talk to me," he urged gently. "We are about to get married."

I took a shaky breath, forcing the words out before I could lose my nerve. "Our wedding... night," I confessed. I felt profoundly humiliated, bracing myself for his reaction. I squeezed my eyes tighter, waiting for him to question me, to demand an explanation for my fear of having sex with him.

Instead, he chuckled softly. There was no mockery in it, only a profound warmth that immediately melted my icy fears.

"Don't stress over it, Celeste," he said, his voice dropping into a soothing, protective register. "I won't push what you are not comfortable with. I won't force you into anything on our wedding night. I want this marriage, and I want your happiness."

A massive wave of relief washed over me. The knot of anxiety in my chest unraveled, leaving behind a deep, genuine affection for this man I barely knew. He was giving me control, leaving me feeling safe and respected.

"Thank you," I whispered. The emotional whiplash of the day finally caught up with me. An unexpected, loud yawn escaped my lips, echoing into the receiver.

Declan laughed again. "Sleepy head," he teased affectionately.

"I can't help it," I giggled, exhaustion settling deep into my bones.

"You need your rest. Mom said your wedding gown will be arriving tomorrow," he reminded me gently.

I glowed at the thought. A beautiful gown, a man who respected my boundaries, and a future that suddenly looked incredibly bright. "Goodnight," I murmured sleepily.

"Goodnight, wife to be," he replied intimately.

The line clicked, and I lowered the phone to my chest. As my heart fluttered wildly beneath my ribs, I closed my eyes, certain that my once-chaotic life was finally becoming perfect.