Sheridan strung her arm through mine and, once again, we were taking a turn about the room. This time she pointed randomly at nothing as she spoke low, trying to divert any attention away from us. “Do you know why my sons seem to be at odds with each other?”
Heat consumed me like I’d been doused with gas and someone had tossed a match near me. I hated lying to this wonderful woman any more than I had to. I hated that I had to lie at all. I swallowed my conscience down my dry throat. “I think Brock is having a hard time adjusting to life after everything he went through. It’s bound to affect relationships.”
Sheridan threw me a quick worried glance before reverting back to her dazzling smile. “John read some of the reports; I know his treatment was heinous—things a mother doesn’t want to hear about.” She shuddered. “Has Brock opened up to you?”
“No, but he has nightmares all the time,” I hesitated to say. I hoped maybe Sheridan could convince him to seek help. If he would listen to anyone, it would be her.
“My poor son,” her voice cracked.
“Maybe you could talk to him,” I suggested.
“Oh no. One thing my boys still don’t like is their mother telling them what to do. If he’ll listen to anyone, it’s you.”
“I don’t think so. He doesn’t like a wife telling him what to do either.” I tried to play it off in a teasing manner, but it was all true. At least, he didn’t like the wife he had now telling him what to do. Maybe someday, after I figured out how to break free, he would marry someone he could truly be one with.
Sheridan patted my arm and giggled. “Holland men are known to be stubborn. But for the women they love, they will do anything. Brock loves you so much. I’ve been watching him throughout the night. He can’t take his eyes off you. But who could blame him?”
Her words were like kryptonite to my soul. She was seeing what she wanted to see—what Brock and I wanted her to see. If only she had seen the way he’d looked at me last night.
I’d never thought I’d say this, but John saved me, at least from having to lie again. For that I was grateful.
“Love.” He kissed his wife on the cheek. “I’ve been sent with the unpleasant task of telling you that Francine would like to discuss a few wedding details with you before dinner is served.” Francine was Jill’s mother.
We all turned to face the fierce-looking woman who had such a severe gray bun on top of her head it made her look like an old schoolmarm. Her black gown covered every inch of her body and didn’t help dispel that impression.
Sheridan sighed. “Pray for me. After this monstrosity of a party, I’m afraid of what the wedding will look like.” She gave me a good squeeze and her husband a kiss before she was off, like a graceful swan.
That left me to stare at my nemesis. I found myself wanting to know what made him tick, though not badly enough to remain in his presence. “Excuse me.”
“I would like to speak with you, if you don’t mind.”
“Actually, I do.”
“Humor me.” His voice warned me not to refuse. “And make sure you smile. We’re being watched.”
How had this become my life? Living like a caged animal. I plastered on a fake smile while seething on the inside. Like Brock, I didn’t like being told what to do.
John looped his arm through mine, and we went through the same exercise of walking around the room. “I know you hate me. You are not the first, nor the last,” he whispered dangerously low. “There are days I don’t even like to look at myself in the mirror, but I do what I have to do to protect my family and to get the job done, when need be.”
“You mean sacrifice your family?”
He pulled me closer to him. “I’m sure that’s what it looks like to you. Yet I’m giving both of my sons what they’ve always wanted.”
We weaved in and out of a crowd of people who smiled at what looked like a doting father-in-law speaking to his daughter-in-law. John waved and nodded, as appropriate.
When we were out of earshot, I hissed, “Do either of them look happy to you?” My gaze drifted toward the pair, standing stiffly next to each other.
John’s eyes barely grazed over them. “I know my sons. They will forgive each other and move on.”
“I think you underestimate how hurt they both are.”
“I know things are not right with you and Brock at the moment, which is why I wanted to talk to you.”
“If you think I’m discussing my relationship with you, you’re going to be disappointed.”
He didn’t even flinch. In fact, he smiled at me. “I admire your spirit. I always have, which is why you make a good partner for my son. I know you disagree right now. You have some issues to work out, as all couples do.”
Issues to work out? How many couples started their marriage with the wife being pregnant with the husband’s brother’s baby? That went well beyond issues. We belonged on an episode of Dr. Phil. Not something I was proud of.
“I see the incredulity in your eyes. But the fact remains, Brock has wanted you for a long time. Of course, there have been some difficulties. You caught the eyes of both my sons early on. And Brock has always been a loyal brother, even when he knew Brant was meant for another.”
I clenched my fists, enraged on my friend’s behalf. “Meant? More like forced.”
John growled. “Brant knew from the beginning what he was getting into. You must make sacrifices in order to bring about the greatest good. Our country needs men like Brant.”
“But at what cost?”
“I think you know. You may not understand it, and I wish to God it didn’t have to be that way. However, as a family, we must push forward and the lead the way.”
Family? I wanted to laugh in his face. “I’m not your family. I’m a captive.”
He hung his head, but only for a brief moment. He was back to faux smiling in seconds. “Dani, I’m not your enemy. I wish you and my son all the happiness you both deserve. You need to give him some time.”
“He’s had fourteen years,” I snapped, while keeping my voice low. “I think we’re done here.”
He tilted his head and studied me, refusing to let me be. “Don’t throw away what you want because it didn’t come to you in the pretty package you wished for.”
“You think I wanted this?”
“You want Brock as much as he wants you.”
“Agree to disagree.” I’d always wanted Brock more than he’d ever wanted me. “Can I go now?” I wanted to go have a good cry up in the hotel room, or maybe catch a plane to a foreign country. Unfortunately, I could never abandon the children I worked with and for.
He cleared his throat and released my arm. “A word of caution. Don’t entangle yourself with Edward Copeland. Don’t speak to him unless you have to, and take no favors from him. No matter what he may promise you. And for Brant’s sake, leave no doubt at dinner that you and Brock are as much in love as the media thinks you are. As much as I believe you to be.” He walked off without another word. Leaving me speechless, with my mind reeling. What favors had Edward done for John? And was that why poor Brant had to marry a woman he didn’t love? Were there suspicions about what had happened between me and Brant? I felt ill, and it had nothing to do with the pregnancy. Suddenly, it felt as if there were no oxygen left in the room.
“Dani,” Brock called my name, allowing me to catch my breath.
I hated that he could bring me so much comfort. I couldn’t depend on it, yet I had to for the sake of my baby and possibly the Hollands. What had I gotten myself involved with?
I took a deep breath and turned around to meet him with a smile, like my life depended on it.
Brock’s smile said how relieved he was to see my own. Or was it all just an act for him too? He had obviously spoken to his father. I’m sure his dad had given him the same warning he’d given me. Regardless, he reached for my hand, and I gave it to him, knowing how much my heart would pay for it. Hope wasn’t cheap, and it had proven to be an unwise investment.<
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“You’ve been popular tonight.” He drew me closer.
“It’s your mother,” I stuttered. His body did things to mine.
“I don’t think so.” He played with a tendril of my ebony hair. “You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman in this room.” Did he ever sound convincing. So much so, I wanted to lean in and taste his lips. But this wasn’t real. We were playing a game. A game I couldn’t afford to lose.
I grabbed the lapels of his jacket. “Aren’t you charming.”
His hand released my hair and landed dangerously low on my back.
Remain calm and unaffected. Easier said than done.
“No one but my mother has ever accused me of being charming,” he whispered in my ear. “I only speak the truth.” His warm lips rested on my cheek and lingered there, allowing me to breathe in his minty breath and seductive scent.
One slight turn of my head and I could capture his lips. I knew he wouldn’t refuse me. There were too many witnesses, and he was proving to be an outstanding actor. However, my heart could only take so much. I would be convincing, yet careful.
“I think dinner is about to start,” I said, trying to break the moment. In fact, I was sure it was, since someone had just announced it and people were moving about furiously to get to their assigned tables.
He groaned low before his lips left my skin, leaving behind an invisible burn. His eyes peered into my own, piercing them. “Can we please start over?”
When did we ever start in the first place? “Yes.” I played along, holding back my tears.
He brushed my lips with his before taking my hand.
A flash and a click went off at that same moment. We turned to see the official photographer for the party. He was obviously pleased he had captured our intimate moment. My first reaction was to be annoyed, but this was good. No one would doubt our relationship, except for Brock and me.
Brock paid the photographer no heed and led us to the front and center table where his family and Jill’s family sat. I felt as if I were a lamb being brought to the slaughter. Though this lamb wasn’t going to go down easily. I would fight like a lion for my child and myself.
All eyes were on us—except Brant’s, as he did his best to never look at me in public—while Brock pulled out my chair, which was covered in sequins, I might add. It was going to make the night even more uncomfortable. Brock seated me between himself and his mother, probably because he didn’t want me to sit next to Brant. I didn’t care why; I was just grateful for it.
Sheridan patted my knee as soon as we were seated, giving me an ounce of courage and comfort. I was going to need it, based on the way Jill and her mother were pursing their lips and narrowing their eyes at me. However, it had nothing on the sinister smile Edward Copeland was giving me from across the table. I had a feeling he was in the mood for lamb chops.
“Here are the newlyweds.” Edward’s beady, dark eyes darted between me and Brock. His white hair and translucent skin made him appear ethereal, making my skin prickle. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting the new Mrs. Holland.” He flashed me a capped-tooth smile. “And here she is, every bit as lovely as everyone says she is.”
“Thank you,” I forced myself to say.
“I’m Edward, and this is my wife, Francine.” He waved his hand toward his wife, seated next to him. She plastered on a fake smile, but in her eyes I could see she had marked me as her enemy.
“Nice to meet you both. Jill has mentioned you often,” I replied graciously before setting my sights on Jill. “You look beautiful tonight,” I lied through my teeth. It was worth it, though, to see her squirm, knowing she had to respond in kind.
She cleared her throat and sat up straight. “You as well.” Oh, that hurt her.
I refused to give any of them any more of my time. I set my sights on Brock, who was already doing a good job of playing the attentive husband with an adoring gaze. I, too, was ready to give the performance of a lifetime. I leaned in and kissed him chastely once on the lips.
“Young love is grand.” Edward lifted his glass of wine to us and then to Brant and Jill. “How fortuitous it has come at precisely the right moment for everyone,” he said, with more than a hint of warning.
I pretended not to be fazed at all by his firing shot. Though my stomach churned. Did he know whose baby I carried? How? Did it matter? I had to fix this. I laughed and tapped Brock’s nose playfully. “After fourteen years of chasing him, I wouldn’t call it the right moment. Perhaps wearing him down might be more appropriate.”
Everyone laughed except Brock, who took my hand and kissed it. “I was the world’s biggest fool.”
Wow. His dad must have had some talk with him. I felt his lie in the far reaches of my soul. My soul that longed for it to be true. At least Brock was valiantly doing his part, saving my baby, who he probably would never love. Even saving me, though he probably resented it.
“I won’t disagree with you,” I purred before kissing him again. I prayed my lips would someday become immune to how alive they felt every time they collided with Brock’s. That the desire for a real future between us would fade.
“Well, maybe you aren’t the only fool.” Edward held his glass to us again, as if to say, “Touché.” Or perhaps to toast our award-winning performance. I couldn’t be sure. One thing I knew: He had his suspicions.
Thankfully, John knew how to play this wicked game as well. He held his glass of sparkling water up to Brant and Jill. “A toast to the future Mr. and Mrs. Holland—may they be as happy as all those who now bear the title.”
We each picked up a glass to toast Brant and Jill.
Jill awkwardly kissed Brant on the corner of his mouth. Brant did his best to smile and act as if he enjoyed it.
I thought I might get to breathe for a moment when the food started being served. Unfortunately, dinner was a creamy garlic chicken that was making me want to vomit. Yet, if I could fake a marriage, I could force myself not to get sick. Hopefully. And I had assumed the conversation would revolve around the engaged couple. Sadly, I was wrong again.
Not a second after the servers had left the table, Edward was back at it. “Brock and Dani, I find it odd that you two haven’t honeymooned yet. What’s the delay? I hope neither of you are having any health issues.”
“Neither of you are sick, are you?” Sheridan was immediately in a tizzy.
Brock squeezed my hand under the table while I swallowed my heart back down. Edward knew I was pregnant. I don’t know how, but he knew. Did he know who the father was? I patted Sheridan’s knee to let her know all was well before the lioness in me came out to protect my cub. I stared hard at my opponent from across the table. “We’re both well, thank you for your concern. I’m sure you’re aware of all that my husband has been through. I would be a callous wife to think of such trivial things when the man I love recently escaped death and has been in need of recovering at home.” Take that, you sleazeball.
Edward’s jaw dropped briefly before he quickly recovered with a slimy smile. “Of course. We are proud of our American hero. I only meant you deserve a getaway. After all, every couple as in love as you should have a honeymoon.”
“Which is why, when Dani’s holiday campaign is over at the end of the year,” Brock glowered at Edward, “I plan on taking my bride to the Turks and Caicos Islands for an extended period of time.”
“Oh, that sounds so wonderful,” Sheridan cheered.
My head whipped Brock’s way. My heart beating wildly. Visiting those islands was a bucket list item for me. Brock knew that. Which was why I loved and hated him for making my wish come true when it would only be a nightmarish experience. Days on end sharing a room with Brock while sleeping in separate beds. His rejection of me last night kept flashing in my brain, bludgeoning my heart to death. I didn’t know if I could take that on repeat for years to come. Though what choice did I have? Even if Brock eventually got over his aversion to me, I wouldn’t make love to him. I was never again giving my
self to a man who didn’t love me.
Keep up the act, I admonished myself, remembering that nothing was more horrific than the thought of having my baby taken from me and my charity foundation destroyed.
Brock met my stare. “If that’s all right with you.” He rested his warm hand on my cheek.
“I can’t think of anything I would love more.” Other than running away and hiding from the devil, whose intense glare I could feel from across the table. I finally realized two things: one, who the real puppet master was, and two, that I was a puppet.
Chapter Fourteen
“Honey, you’re home. It’s so good to see your beautiful face.” Grandma kissed my cheek.
I stopped playing with the piece of solder in front of me. I was taking my lunch break to hang out at the stained glass shop with Ariana, Kinsley, and Grandma. Kinsley hadn’t arrived yet with lunch, so I’d been sitting at Ariana’s workbench admiring her skill. She was currently working on a large mosaic for a private client. It was stunning in hues of gold and silver. I loved to watch her work on mosaics because the broken pieces of stained glass were all so different and some didn’t seem like they belonged, yet once it was all put together, you realized the work of art couldn’t have done without each piece. Every piece had its place in creating a beautiful whole. It was such a metaphor for Ariana’s, Kinsley’s, and my life. We had all just wanted to find our place while growing up.
I smiled at Grandma, a mischievous old woman with unusual amber eyes that seemed to know all. This woman had given us our place. Given us each other. I remembered when she and Grandpa had brought Kinsley and me home. I was so skeptical. I figured they were just another couple wanting to look like do-gooders to the outside world when really they would use us and abuse us. I was so rotten that first year. I talked back at every turn or gave them the silent treatment. I couldn’t afford to trust them. I had felt so unworthy of being loved after all I had done. I hated them because they knew some of my secrets, having had to go to court dates with me. Yet they never judged me. Only loved me. Eventually, they helped me see that I was a child and had been preyed upon. They helped me finish high school even though I was a year behind. They even adopted me, when they didn’t have to, as I was already eighteen by the time the system would allow them to. Best of all, they gave me the opportunity to forgive myself.
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