Chapter 881: Marriage
Rafe stared at Arabelle as his team fussed around her, their chatter and activity filling the room. She looked stunning, even with exhaustion lingering on her face. Thankfully, he had already taken care of one crucial detail—applying for a marriage license weeks ago when he’d been toying with the idea of making her his wife. That decision had saved the day during the press conference and helped solidify their story. Of course, it had also clearly angered her.
In his defense, he wasn’t the one who had announced their supposed wedding to the public. That had been an unexpected curveball from Arabelle herself, which, in his mind, made them even. Neither of them had planned for this chaos, but now they were stuck navigating it together.
Unfortunately, his public relations team had swooped in like a pack of overeager vultures right after Arabelle had stepped in and saved the situation. Fools, he thought grimly. They should have acted before things spiraled out of control in the first place. He made a mental note to have a stern talk with them later. For now, his focus was on salvaging what was left of the moment—and on reassuring Arabelle.
He cleared his throat and stepped forward, his voice cutting through the commotion. "Excuse me, everyone. All the interviews and photoshoots can wait. She’s just returned from the hospital, and I think she’s had enough for one day."
Though his tone was calm, there was an unmistakable edge of anger in his words. The team froze, suddenly realizing their misstep. After a flurry of murmured congratulations and promises to write glowing articles, they dispersed as quickly as they had appeared, leaving the room blessedly quiet.
As the last of them filed out, Arabelle turned to face him. The polite smile she’d been wearing for the team evaporated, replaced by a look that did not look promising.
"I can’t believe you had a marriage license ready," she said, her voice tight. "From weeks ago. As in... the night we... How could you? Did you plan this all along?"
Rafe shook his head quickly, stepping closer and gently catching her hand before she could jab an accusatory finger at him. He held both her hands in his, his grip firm but careful. "First," he began, his voice low and earnest, "I need to thank you. You saved me out there. I didn’t expect things to get so out of control so quickly. If you hadn’t stepped in when you did, I might already be facing council demands to step down."
He paused, searching her eyes for any sign of softening. "Second," he continued, "about the marriage license. Yes, I did prepare for this possibility. But before you get any more upset, it was only taken as a precaution so if things actually did turn out the way they did, no one could ever claim that we married because you were expecting or had been trapped.
"Third, I need to thank you for saving me again."
Arabelle’s expression remained unreadable as she stared at him, her sharp eyes taking in his sincere expression. Finally, she exhaled a long, tired sigh and sat down on the edge of the couch. "I’m not the one you need to thank," she said, her voice softer now but still firm. "It’s Cai."