by Jacie Lennon
I cross the room to my closet, fingering the rich material of the creamy white skirt and blouse. It feels like money … and despair. I haven’t had new outfits in a while. And I’m fine with that. I prefer my clothing to what my mother wants me to wear, but suddenly, I’m engaged, and now, we are buying a new wardrobe? It feels like something is off, something I can’t put my finger on but is right in front of my face.
What is the actual reason for this entire madness? Why am I going along with this instead of standing up for myself, fighting for my freedom? Why?
But as soon as I think the thoughts, I know why.
There’s this strange feeling deep inside me that wants to make my parents proud. I don’t know why. Even though I don’t agree with them, there’s a part that knows they are doing this out of desperation, and that’s scary. But my main reason is Bodhi. For the threats that have been leveled against him if I don’t comply.
My entire life is fucked up, and I can’t see a way out.
I slip into my new outfit, hating the way it feels on my skin, the way it’s tight around my waist. Like something caging me in. White. Pure. Unadulterated. Except that doesn’t describe me. I’m sullied. I slept with someone who wasn’t my fiancé, and I don’t regret it one bit.
I walk into the bathroom and adjust my hair. Then, I pin back the flyaways and spray hairspray to set it. I’m literally perfection on the outside and completely imperfect on the inside.
After one more peek at myself to make sure my mother can’t complain about anything, I stride back into my room, grab my purse and phone, and walk to the door.
As soon as I’m standing in the hallway, I turn to the new guy. “What’s your name?”
He eyes me for a few seconds before answering, “Leo.”
“Who hired you?”
“Your parents.”
“For what reason?”
“Protection.”
“From who?”
“Anyone who presents a threat to you or your family.”
Practiced bullshit answers. As far as I know, we don’t have enemies, and Seth has enemies because he’s a self-entitled prick, but they are more likely to punch him in the face than come after my family.
“Okay, Leo. I know you are lying, but I’ll figure out what’s going on.”
He stares at me again, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile. I spin and make my way down the front stairs with him at my back, and then I wait for my friend.
I’m waiting on pins and needles, shifting from one foot to the other until there’s finally a knock at the door. I throw it open, the first real smile crossing my face as I find Landry standing on the other side. She has a small suitcase with her—the actual size that’s needed for a weekend trip—and a jaunty little cap perched on her head.
“Oui! Francois! Ma cherie!” she exclaims in a fake French accent as she steps forward to hug me.
I invited Peyton, but with her being so far along in her pregnancy, she didn’t want to risk going into labor away from Brock while in a different country, so we promised to video-chat her during the trip.
“I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m excited to go to Paris with you. I wouldn’t get up this early for anyone else,” Landry says, stepping back. She grabs the handle of her suitcase. “Where should I put this?”
I turn, spotting Leo watching us with his arms crossed. “Can you load this in the car?”
“I’m not your bellboy.”
Fucking hell.
“Who is that?” Landry whispers loudly, but I have no doubt that Leo can hear it.
“My home bodyguard. As opposed to Phillip, who is my school bodyguard.”
“I don’t like him,” she says lower this time, and I nod.
“I don’t like anything about this.”
The tense silence stretches between us until she pastes a smile on again.
“Oui! Francois! Ma cherie!” she yells again, making me laugh.
“Come on. We can put this in the car ourselves.” I grab her suitcase and roll it down the front steps, cringing as it hits on each one.
“Jeez, you are destroying my bag. Give that to me,” Landry says, taking the handle. “So, private plane? I feel like royalty.”
“I guess.” I shrug. I wish I were traveling for a happier reason.
“Let’s make the best of this. You get to travel in luxury, try on fancy dresses, and probably sip champagne in public. Drinking age is eighteen in France—I looked it up. We could even sneak around and have a wild night out to ourselves.” She snaps her fingers and then points at me. “That’s it! Let’s get crazy one night. What do you say?”
I glance back at the house, making sure no one has come out and is listening to our conversation. It sounds glorious, but it’s highly improbable that we can do it.
“I say you are already crazy.” I giggle, and she grins wolfishly at me.
“Don’t tell Corbin. He will have my ass if he finds out.” She tilts her head a little, and then her smile stretches wider. “Or maybe I should tell him. Punishment is delicious sometimes.”
“Gross. Don’t tell me about your kinky bed stuff,” I complain, but it’s all in good fun. I don’t mind. I’m happy that she’s so happy.
“Oh, talking about kinky bed stuff, you never told me who you’ve been bumping uglies with.”
“I never said I was.” I look over my shoulder again.
“You didn’t say you weren’t.”
“I—I’m confused now,” I say with a laugh, hoping to deflect.
We both turn as we hear tires on the driveway, and I blink twice, hoping I’m not seeing what I think I see.
“Is that—”
“Yes,” I groan.
What. The. Hell?
“Why is he here?” Landry asks as we watch Seth park his brand-new Range Rover in a spot in front of our garage, like he belongs here. I guess he thinks he does now.
“I have no idea.”
He opens his door, stepping out as the passenger door opens. Seth aims a smile my way that I know is carefully curated because of Landry’s presence. He wants to put on this happy-couple act, and it makes me sick to my stomach. I’m starting to revisit how far I will go for my family, who doesn’t seem to want to help me at all.
“And what in the world is he doing here?” Landry makes a gesture at the passenger side, where Connor is getting out.
He looks at us for a moment before meeting Seth at the back of the Rover, and they start pulling out suitcases.
My heart sinks.
“Looks like we’ve got some company for our weekend getaway,” I murmur, anger rising in my chest.
“Fuck.” Landry shakes her head. “Corbin will definitely shit bricks now.”
The front door opens, and my mother’s shrill voice rings out with delight as she crosses the driveway to greet the two boys. Leo appears behind her, carrying her suitcases, and I glare at him. He smirks back.
Asshole.
“Perfect. Everyone is here,” my mother says, clapping her hands.
Our drivers appear seemingly out of nowhere and open doors, ushering us inside the vehicles. They stow our luggage, and before I know it, I’m whisked away with Landry and Leo in my car while my mother rides with Connor and Seth.
I feel relieved that I don’t have to make small talk with him right now. Not that he cares if I talk to him in private or not. But in public, I’d better act like the perfect wife-to-be, or I’ll hear about it.
What was already going to be a stressful trip for me has become hell.
“Okay, it’s fine.” Landry wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in for a hug. “Take a picture. It will last longer,” she says, and I look over at her, confused, but she’s staring at Leo.
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” I say with a wave of my arm. I want him to think I don’t care about him, but in reality, my guard is up. It’s so far up that I would need oxygen to climb to the top of it.
I don’t speak much on the way to
the private airstrip we are departing from. Landry thankfully doesn’t press me for anything.
It’s all very surreal, the way my life feels today. We are moved from the car to the waiting plane, seated in the lap of luxury, and before I know it, I’m next to Landry, gripping the armrests of my plush chair and watching the ground rush by as we take off.
I still haven’t said anything to Seth, and I don’t plan to unless he makes me. I don’t know why he needs to come along to Paris for dress shopping anyway. I’m sure it’s one more way for him to control me and our situation.
We touch down half a day later. I’m tired and irritable, and I want to get to the room as quickly as possible.
Landry oohs and aahs as we pass through the streets, pointing out the architecture of buildings and commenting on places that her dad has photographed. He’s a world-renowned photographer, but she doesn’t see him much. His travel is one of the reasons she moved to Almadale since her mom used to be married to Brock and Bodhi’s dad, Chester.
I’m in a fog, collapsing into bed for a nap as soon as we arrive, Landry doing the same. It’s the middle of the night, and I definitely need to get a little more sleep before I get through this day of playing dress-up. My dress appointment is scheduled for nine in the morning, so I set my alarm and drift off.
I’m jarred from sleep by a pounding on my door, and I roll over, bleary-eyed.
“What the hell?” Landry asks, sitting up on her bed.
She jumps up, crossing the room to open the door. I see her jump back, and I sit up further as Seth barrels into my room.
“I’ve called you several times. Why weren’t you answering?” he asks, coming to a standstill at the end of my bed.
His eyes rake over me in my sleep camisole, and my skin prickles with awareness but a completely different kind than Bodhi gave me. I cringe when I think that this is who I’m going to be with for the rest of my life.
“I was asleep.” I grab my phone, my eyes widening when I see the time. “Oh my God, I set an alarm. It didn’t go off, I swear.”
It’s already eight thirty, and I’m still in bed. I jump up, forgetting that I’m only wearing panties on my bottom half. Seth smirks. He steps closer, grabbing my hips and pulling me to him.
I place my hands on his chest, putting pressure to keep my entire body from pressing into him. My skin crawls where his hands touch me. I can feel his dick, hard behind his designer jeans, and his hands migrate down to cup my ass.
Why do I have to be wearing a thong?
“On second thought, why don’t we stay here?” he asks, loud enough for Landry to hear, and my cheeks pinken.
I’m embarrassed that she’s seeing this, that she’s witnessing my shame at being unable to control my life. He presses his dick against me again.
I choose my words carefully. “As much as I would love that, I can’t show up at the wedding, naked.”
I give him a coy smile and pull back, swallowing hard. His fingers ease up and slowly brush along my skin as he lets me go. His smile has dropped a little, and I wait to see his reaction.
“Later. I’ll make sure you get a key to my room.”
I dart my eyes to Landry, who is watching the exchange with unabashed interest. Not even trying to hide that she’s listening.
I blush deeper. “My mother is here. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Are we inviting your mother to join? No,” Seth scoffs, and I tense up. His jokes are usually never funny and always delivered with a bite behind them. “I’ll make sure Connor is occupied.” He gives me a slow wink and steps back. “Your friend can join if she wants.”
Seth gives her a once-over as he retreats to leave, and Landry frowns, a sound almost like a growl coming from her throat.
“What the fuck was that?” she asks as soon as the door is closed. “Is he for real? Trixie, you can’t marry him.”
“But I will,” I say with a shrug.
“Why? Why do this to yourself?”
I fidget with the hem of my camisole, shifting back and forth under her scrutiny. God, I’m so weak. So pliable. Why can’t I be strong?
“Because it’s what’s expected of me.”
“To what end? What kind of match is this for you? Have you told your parents how he talks to you?”
I give her a scathing look. “Like it matters. They would never publicly recall the engagement. They have an image to uphold.”
“That’s what this is about? Image?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I say, wondering why I’m trying to defend my parents.
“Try me. Just because I didn’t grow up with the rich, elitist assholes you did doesn’t mean I can’t understand that way of thinking. Just because your parents have images they prioritize, they can’t expect you to marry a narcissistic pretty boy to uphold theirs. What kind of precedent is that setting for any kids you might have? That’s what this is about, right? Creating the next generation of rich, elitist assholes? They want you to marry someone of good breeding, so you can open your legs and produce heirs for their empire?” Landry is breathing hard by the time she finishes, and we glare at each other.
She’s angry for me. I’m angry with myself. But I don’t want to show it.
I want to bury my head in the sand and hope everything will eventually be all right.
Landry steps forward, grabbing my hand and holding it in both of hers. “I’m sorry. That came out in one big word vomit, and I don’t mean to be adding extra stress to your already-full plate. I’m worried about you. Worried for you.”
“I know,” I whisper as she pulls me into a hug. I let one tear fall, quickly wiping it behind her back so she doesn’t have to deal with a weepy Trixie as well.
“I do have one question though,” Landry says, her words rumbling through her chest and into mine as we hug. “Why Seth Hastings? Bodhi Montgomery has money. Why wouldn’t your parents see him as a fit for their rich, elitist asshole husband material?”
Why indeed?
What does Seth Hastings have that Bodhi doesn’t?
I step back and stare hard into Landry’s face. “I honestly don’t know.”
“You’ve never asked?” She cocks one eyebrow, and I shake my head.
I think back to that night that we were all in my dad’s office together.
Was anything actually said regarding why this was happening?
My father indicated that it was what was best for our family.
So, what do the Hastings have over my family?
“No, but now that you mention it, it’s been right there, staring me in the face. The Hastings must have something on my parents or something that my parents want. That has to be it.”
“Can you find out? Maybe you don’t have to go through with this?” She’s holding my upper arms now.
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t know. But I’m damn sure going to try.”
26
Trixie
I let my hands drift over the luxurious swaths of satin, lace, and tulle. Mom scheduled me an appointment at La Mariée, a highly sought-after bridal shop in the heart of Paris. It’s all creamy whites and golds on the interior. The lighting shows off the rows and rows of couture wedding gowns I have to choose from.
I have two attendants currently occupied by my mom, thankfully letting Landry and me browse in peace.
“What about this one?” She pulls one out, looking at the skirt.
“Too princess,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “I don’t want to be a cupcake.”
“Okay, no cupcake.”
I glance to the side, narrowing my eyes at Seth, who is also browsing. I’m not sure why he insisted on coming. Connor at least looks uncomfortable as he lounges on a fancy couch in the middle of the shop.
“This one. Put it on,” Seth says, thrusting a dress into my arms.
One of the attendants hurries over, grabbing it and folding it gently over her own.
“Of course. I’ll put this in your dressing room,” she murmurs b
efore I can even look at it.
There’s no telling what kind of dress he picked for me.
He smirks and saunters off to sit with Connor, his work done. I wonder if that was his way of saying that’s the dress I’m going to get.
My eyes snag on a dainty number, a blush-colored V-neck gown with flutter sleeves made of lace overlay. The skirt drops from the waist, the blush underneath framed by the beautiful, intricate array of lace and pearls on top, fanning out the back into a medium-length train. I finger the fine material, envisioning myself in it, standing at the altar, but it’s not Seth standing across from me.
I shake my head, clearing the image from my mind, and pull the dress from the rack.
“This one, please,” I say to the attendant, and she nods, whisking it away.
“Oh, darling, that one is too plain. Let’s look at others,” Mom says as she comes to stand beside me.
Too plain? It’s breathtaking.
I stand by with Landry while Mom picks a few more.
“Don’t you think you shouldn’t be here?” I ask Seth, who glances up from his phone, one eyebrow raised. “You know, the old belief that you shouldn’t see me in my dress before the wedding day?” I have my fingers crossed behind my back that he leaves.
“I have heard that before,” Connor agrees, and part of me thinks he’s saying that because he doesn’t want to be here.
I shoot him a small smile. But when I look back at Seth, he’s glancing between the two of us, eyes narrowed.
“No, I think I’ll stay.” With that, he goes back to his phone, and I’m ushered to the back to play dress-up while everyone else waits out in front of the mirror.
“This one is gorgeous,” the attendant, Julia, says as she buttons up the back of my dress. Then, she clips it to make it tighter since I’m a smaller size.
It’s one my mom picked out, and it’s pretty but not what I picture myself in. It’s a trumpet-style, flaring out from my knees, and it would look better if I were taller, but I think it makes me look cut off.
Julia holds the train as I make my way to stand on the pedestal in front of my audience. My mom gasps, Seth glances up once and then back down, Landry scrunches her nose up, and Connor avoids looking at me. I’m tempted to go with this one because I know Seth doesn’t like it. I couldn’t care less at this point what I look like at my wedding.