Later that evening, Zara had already left after seeing that Patricia was feeling better.
Getting out of bed, Patricia walked up to her dressing mirror and picked up the new box Kay had brought her, peering inside. There was a sleeveless, very short red gown in it, and she could already feel the chills just imagining herself in it. The weather was far too cold for such a dress, and it might even rain today, considering it had been raining non stop for the past week.
Putting the gown aside, she picked out the heels and instantly felt discouraged. How was she supposed to wear heels with her weakened legs? If she fell, she would embarrass not only herself but him as well. But if he wasn't planning to show her off in public, then why take her to public events instead of Michelle? He had always been so adamant about not appearing with her in public so why was he acting differently now?
She dropped the heels and brought out the jewelry, staring at the pieces with a frown. How was she expected to wear such showy jewelry? Maybe Zara had been right, she should have turned him down when she had the chance. Nothing he got her seemed comfortable. If she wasn't recovering, she wouldn't have minded enduring a bit of discomfort.
Knock knock.
She heard someone at the door and turned toward it, asking, "Who is there?"
"It's Kay, Miss Patricia. Mr. Roman wants you ready in ten minutes," Kay said from outside.
"I will be there in fifteen," she replied. There was no response, so she assumed that meant it was okay.
She brought out everything she needed and began dressing, finishing up in a few minutes. Once done, she turned her back to the mirror and frowned, dissatisfied with how open the back of the dress was. She wondered if Roman had chosen this outfit for her or if it had been Kay. At least the sizing was accurate. That was one good thing.
Taking one final look at herself, she drew in a deep breath and stepped out of the room, heading to the car. When she arrived, Kay was standing by the second car door. She glanced around, assuming Roman was in the first car with Michelle. Relieved to have some space to herself, she walked up to Kay, who opened the door for her to enter.
As she settled into the seat, she glanced to the side, and flinched, startled to see Roman beside her.
"Aren't you riding with Michelle?" She asked, staring at him in confusion.
"You are my wife. Why would I ride with her?" He replied, and her heart skipped a beat, her face flushing at the sudden declaration.
"We can convince them this way. Also, it gives Michelle more freedom to move around," he added.
In that moment, every delusion she had been holding onto shattered. What was wrong with her? Why was she holding onto words that meant nothing? And she had literally just gotten out of a relationship with her ex, why was she already having inappropriate thoughts about another man?
"Yeah, right," she said in response to his comment, looking away. Of course, everything he did was for Michelle, the woman he was supposed to marry.
When they arrived at their destination, it wasn't what Patricia had expected. There were no paparazzi outside; only security personnel filled the entrance. If one wasn't aware, they would think nothing was going on inside.
They both stepped out of the car and walked into the hall, pausing once they got in.
"You don't have to greet anyone. Just smile and nod when they approach you," he instructed. She nodded and put on a fake smile as curious gazes settled on them.
"I suppose the chicken has found a new chick," a petite, seductive-looking woman said as she passed, shooting a sharp glare at Roman. The comment was clearly directed at him. What could have happened between them? Deciding it wasn't her business, Patricia shook the thought off and turned her focus back to the crowd. Everyone looked so wealthy and extravagant that it made her feel small. She had never been to an event like this. In fact, she hadn't attended any event at all, and it felt suffocating.
"You can stay in the side hall. I will come pick you up soon," he said, pointing toward a quiet corner away from the crowd. She quickly nodded and walked over without argument.
Once there, she sat down and curled up on the sofa, rubbing her arms in an attempt to stay awake and warm. The heels were already torture, now the cold was getting to her. Before long, someone came to escort her, and she followed them to where Roman was speaking with a man around his age.
"She is here," the waiter announced, and both Roman and the man turned to look at her. The stranger's face lit up at the sight of her.
"Miss…?" The man prompted.
"Patricia," she answered quietly, lowering her head.
"It's so lovely meeting you. They call me Duke, you can too," he said, then lifted her hand and placed a feather-light kiss on her palm.
The rest of the introductions were painfully dull and uncomfortable for Patricia. Her legs began trembling, her body shivering, but she endured it. No wonder the rumors claimed Roman didn't attend public events, it wasn't that he avoided attention, he just avoided crowded, noisy places. There were clearly no reporters here. Everyone moved about freely, chatting without restraint.
Most of the conversations revolved around business and politics, a world she found utterly unsuitable. These people were dangerous in their own way, offending them could have real consequences. Her family might be influential, but her grandmother would never be caught at a gathering like this. She preferred popular events that put her face in the spotlight.
"Mm!" Patricia let out a quiet, pained sound, exhaling as a sharp ache shot through her legs. Roman noticed, but didn't react, continuing his conversation with another guest.
"I will excuse myself for a while," she finally said, unable to endure it any longer. Roman dismissed her with a nod, not saying a word.