by Alice Rachel
Love is a taboo, a mere fantasy—
foreign, unreachable, and dangerous.
Raised in a society where women have no rights, seventeen-year-old Thia Clay holds little hope for a bright future. When her parents sell her into marriage to elite member William Fox, Thia slowly gives in to despair. William is nothing but a cruel, selfish young man with no other interest than to serve his own.
Born illegally and forced to hide from the authorities his entire life, nineteen-year-old Chi Richards is an active member of the Underground—a rebellious group seeking to overthrow the government.
Chi only has one goal—to rescue his parents from the work camp they were forced into.
Meeting Thia was never part of the plan, and neither was falling in love with her.
If caught in their forbidden relationship, Thia and Chi could face a death sentence, and when devastating secrets surface from Chi's past, Thia has to rely on her instincts to make a choice that could save her or destroy her forever.
Copyright © 2015 by Alice Rachel
All right reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any way or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without written permission by the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, or incidents resembling events, locales, or persons, living or dead, are coincidental. They originated from the author's imagination and are used fictitiously.
Cover art by Alice Rachel.
ISBN: 978-1519348784
For you to enjoy
and ponder
If we should let them destroy
while we wander.
Chi
UNDER GROUND SERIES
Recommended Reading Order
Under Ground
(Book #1)
Losing Ground:
A Stephen Richards Novella 1
Standing Ground
(Book #2)
Holding Ground:
A Stephen Richards Novella 2
Common Ground:
Kayla and Taylor's Novella
Dangerous Ground:
Tina and Chase's Novella
Breaking Ground
(Book #3)
PART 1
"I hope never to see that boy again.
He had trouble written all over that impish smile of his.
I don't need this kind of temptation in my life."
Thia Clay
Chapter 1
“During the meeting, only speak when spoken to and don’t ask any questions,” Mother snaps at me coldly.
“Yes, Mother.” I roll my eyes.
Why does she have to remind me to be quiet? I’m only allowed to talk when someone addresses me, and questions from me are never welcome. This situation will no different from any other circumstance in my life. I want to grunt something back at her, but I swallow the snide remark quickly and try my best to look obedient.
“Don’t look at William too insistently. Don’t say anything stupid that could make him or his family feel uncomfortable.” She keeps going on and on with her demands. Mother has been instructing me in proper manners for years; it’s hard to focus on her words.
"Thia, I know the Foxes have accepted your engagement to William, but remember that nothing is formalized yet. Your father and I have gone through great lengths to prepare for this wedding. You have to be on your best behavior during the entire dinner."
In one week, William's family will come to our house for our official meeting—a crucial reunion that will finalize our engagement or break it apart. His parents will gauge whether I'm still worthy of their son or not. Mother is anxious, worried I might make a fool of myself.
I rest my head against the windowpane and try to block out her words as they echo against the walls of our private compartment. The train is moving at full speed. My mind keeps drifting while the landscape passes me by like a blur, going too fast for me to stop or breathe.
There are only a few bullet trains in New York State, all of them reserved for the upper-class. They ride through the mountains, between the different towns, and into the metropolis, Eboracum City, where Mother is taking me to try on my bridal gown.
"Your father spent a lot of money on your dowry, Thia. We offered the highest amount we could afford to make sure the Foxes wouldn't turn you down."
As if that family needs any more money. I grit my teeth and inhale deeply. I was promised to William exactly four years ago, on the day I turned thirteen. That's when I became a piece of merchandise sold in a trade to benefit my parents. My marriage to William was settled by our two families. I had no say in it; nobody cares how I feel about the whole arrangement anyway.
Mother is still talking when a knock finally disrupts this monotonous torture. The door slides open and a female server enters our private compartment, pushing a tray covered with beverages. She inclines her head and keeps her eyes to the ground in deference to my mother.
"May I serve madam some complimentary tea or coffee?" she asks, her voice soft and servile.
"No, thank you," Mother responds harshly. She hates it when people interrupt her.
Suddenly nervous, the poor woman nods while holding her hands together in front of her. She looks at me and waits for my answer. I shake my head and smile to atone for my mother's rude behavior.
When the server exits, Mother resumes her monologue. She holds her back straight while sitting next to me, and her eyes remain fixed on the wall facing us. Not once does she look at me. I'm invisible, transparent, non-existent. I might as well not be here at all. She has a unique gift for ignoring me while pestering me.
"You will be standing until instructed otherwise," she continues, "so William and his parents can look at you while I introduce you. It is of the utmost importance for you to impress them and give your very best, Thia. Many girls would give everything they have to be matched with a young man like William. It is an honor for us that his family chose you."
Mother sends me a quick glance. A lot remains to be done before the union is complete, and this upcoming ceremony has put her completely on edge, turning the past few months into a real nightmare.
"Your father holds high hopes for this union, Thia. Once you are married to William, your father will get promoted to a higher paying job. Mr. Fox even mentioned the possibility of a whole new career. If we are lucky, he will hire your father to work in his company."
No one has told me what post Mr. Fox holds in this state, but it must be an excellent position for my parents to strive so much to impress him. My marriage is sure to help my family grow their social network and increase their fortune.
I look outside the window at the landscape unrolling before my eyes, and my mother's voice fades into the background. This area is flooded, filled with marshes left over from the rainstorms that pour over New York State on a regular basis.
Mother snaps me out of my contemplation. "Thia, are you listening to me?"
She looks at me sharply. I nod and lower my eyes.
"You know William has the right to refuse you at any given time. Don't give him any reason to do so. You are to obey him and his parents no matter what they may demand of you. Getting rejected would be a disgrace upon our entire family. I do not need to remind you what the consequences would be. This is your only chance. No one else will agree to marry you if William changes his mind."
"Yes, Mother."
"You know the stakes are high since women outnumber men."
"Yes, Mother."
After the oceans rose, claiming their territory and devouring parts of New York City along with other areas in the world, the surge led to a civil war that killed most of our men—husbands, fathers, and brothers falling in a fight that almost
destroyed our country.
When it comes to marriage, the demand is high and the supply is low, giving men the power to take and reject women at will.
"Remember this is the only way for us to rise in status. Rank is everything, Thia. So many women strive to get an eligible husband. Most young girls can only dream of marrying such a suitable bachelor as William," Mother reminds me. "He needs to feel that you are unique, one of a kind. If this reunion goes as planned, he will ask to meet you for the pre-nuptial night as well."
I shiver.
"He can cancel the wedding if your physical union isn't to his taste," she continues. "Give him whatever he wants and make sure to please him."
Shudders run all over my skin, and I have to breathe deeply so as not to panic. I hate it when she talks about the pre-nuptial night. It's something I try not to think about, ever.
Thankfully, the train slows down before Mother goes into details, and the city's buildings come into view—skyscrapers copying the ones that used to fill the streets of New York City. Mother turns around to look at me. She raises her eyebrow; she's judging my appearance. She doesn't care about the emotions and fear crushing my chest. She's more interested in my untamed hair and the loose strands she's desperately trying to pull back into my ponytail. She gives me a disapproving look confirming that my mane isn’t complying.
The train comes to a stop. I stand up and gesture for Mother to get out first. She waits in line to exit the car. I follow suit and squeeze my way between her and two gossiping women.
"I heard the governor will not run again next year," one of them says. "I wonder who's going to step up for such a difficult task."
"I know, my dear. Whoever it is, I hope they will finally lift the restrictions."
"Can you believe they refused to let us increase our energy consumption last year?"
"Purely ridiculous."
"Everyone knows the poor are draining all our resources. It's about time someone did something about it."
I try hard not to roll my eyes, and the shallow jabber grows distant as Mother and I finally exit the train. The sounds in the station overwhelm me instead, a rumble of noises melting together like a cacophony inside my head. I follow close behind Mother and make sure not to lose her in the crowd. She doesn't glance back once. She holds her chin high in defiance of the world while I find myself staggering through the pack.
I stumble into the street and look around to admire the view. We rarely come here because our town is located in the Catskills further North. It takes about an hour to get here from our neighborhood, and Mother hates public transportation.
The crowd is rushing through the streets, pushing me along. I have to keep up. The streetcars honk their horns as their drivers scowl at the pedestrians. A few scattered electric cars ride along the avenues. Their passengers belong to the elite, to the richest members of our society.
Someone bumps into my shoulder. I'm not moving fast enough. I catch up with Mother. Her posture is assured, proud. I wish I could say the same about mine, but everything here is overpowering me. My mind is blown by so much life and energy. Mother stops suddenly; I almost crash into her. I look up in wonder. The bridal store is right in front of us. This is the second time I've been here, and yet the beauty of its façade still takes my breath away.
I take in the windows facing the avenue and swallow hard as excitement takes flight inside me like butterflies. Behind the glass, exquisite dresses are displayed on mannequins surrounded by velvet curtains and lights illuminating the gowns from below.
Mother pulls me out of my trance and shakes her head at my lack of composure. She pushes the entrance door open and drags me into the store. We step into a room so big that I can't even make out the end of it. The inside is magnificent. A winding marble staircase stands in the middle, giving easy access to the upper levels. Dresses are nicely arranged on models throughout the store or hanging from different racks. Each outfit is more gorgeous than the next, making it close to impossible to pick one. Upper-class girls from the whole state come to this establishment to choose their wedding gowns. This store is owned by one of the richest families in Eboracum City; it's renowned for its extravagance.
When we first came here, everything was so mind-boggling that I was enthralled with it all. My parents gave me permission to choose my own outfit. For once in my life, I got to make a decision for myself. Despite my profound anxiety, I was thrilled when the seamstress called yesterday to say that my wedding dress was ready for try-on. I was allowed to pick the color, shape, and fabric I wanted. I decided upon a light purple silky gown in the same style I had seen in history books. It’s long, with a crinoline in the back.
The dressmaker, whose tag reads “Sofia,” walks straight to us as we enter. She’s dressed well, but with modesty. She’s pretty, with a style that catches the eye. Her hair is red and long, falling in loose curls over her shoulders. She's of average height, and her face is pale and freckled. She’s wearing a green dress made of silk, cut below her knees. She greets us by name and heads to the back of the store. I'm nervous. I hope the gown looks as good on me as the sample did. It has to be perfect, without a blemish or flaw.
Sofia comes back with my dress wrapped in plastic. She puts it on the counter and unzips the bag around it. Then she slides it out gently and holds it in front of me. I gasp in wonder. The dress is so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes.
I try to hide my emotions, but when I look at Mother, I see a flicker of pride and awe crossing her face. She’s quick to recover herself though. I sometimes forget that my mother is human just like me. She most certainly has feelings; it’s often hard to believe. She spends so much time hiding them.
Sofia beckons me to a mirror and holds the dress in front of me. For the first time in my life, I feel beautiful. The purple shade of the gown is radiant and bright, shining against the raven darkness of my hair, bringing out the sparkling light reflected in my anthracite eyes. For once, my pale skin does not look sallow and sickly, but merely fragile and spotless, like porcelain.
Sofia snaps me out of my trance by taking the gown away. She leads us to a grand dressing room and asks me to undress. I flush, my cheeks burning with heat rising from my chest to my face as I take off my outfit. I stand in my underwear in front of Sofia and my mother. I want to hold my hands in front of my body, to hide as much of it as possible, but instead I stand as tall as I can and try to hide my embarrassment.
"Let's put the crinoline on first," Sofia says. She holds it in front of me. "Please, step into it."
I do as she says. She pulls on the drawstrings to hold it in place around my waist. I feel minuscule. My petite frame stands out under this massive accessory, and its discomfort does nothing to help silence my insecurities. I inhale when Sofia finally puts the gown over my head and pulls it down. She comes to stand behind me and pulls the zipper up. When the bodice is tight around my torso, holding the gown in place, I whirl around and the skirt flows all around me. The smooth texture of the fabric catches the light when I move. I almost giggle, but I catch myself quickly. I stop, stand straight, and look at Mother. Her face is hard, as always, but I could swear that her eyes creased with tiny laugh lines for just one second.
"Please turn around, Miss Clay," Sofia says.
She traps my chest in an iris mauve corset. Its lace is refined, intricate, woven by hand. Its color complements the wine berry shade of the skirt. Sofia pulls on the strings; I can hardly breathe. The corset brings up my bosom somehow, making it look much bigger than it truly is.
"I will fix the bottom now. I just need to adjust the length with pins." It takes but a few minutes for Sofia to complete the job. When she’s done, she looks at my mother. "What do you think, Mrs. Clay?"
Mother comes to stand by my side. Her arms are crossed over her chest, but a flicker of pride crosses her eyes quickly. She approves, and this is all it takes for my heart to leap so hard that my chest burns.
Mother nods her head; Sofia may put everything aw
ay now. She releases the corset first and pulls me out of my gown slowly, without dropping any pins. Then she takes off my crinoline and walks away to hang the dress from a rack. I get back into my usual attire and hurry to cover my half-naked body as quickly as possible.
“It will be ready for pick-up in a week," Sofia says. "I’ll call you when it’s done.”
We go to the counter, where Mother has to pay an additional deposit to help cover the last completions. When we walk out of the store, the masses overtake me, pushing me forward as I try to look around one last time. I may not be allowed to come back here to pick up my dress. I want to absorb as much of the beauty of the place as possible.
We force our way through the throng of people, and when we enter the station, I can finally calm down and breathe. Mother and I look for a bench and wait. The train arrives. We get in and find our reserved compartment. We sit next to each other without a word. I should be thankful that Mother hasn't found anything to hassle me about yet, but I'm waiting for a compliment from her, for a miracle I know will never happen. I can't read her thoughts or tell how satisfied she is with me today. She sits up straight, with her chin held high, ignoring me as always. When the train passes by the store, I steal one last glance at it. I look at the skyscrapers and the crowd scurrying through the street.
The city disappears as the train enters the slums surrounding it. My heart flutters. The beautiful buildings of the metropolis clash with the structures housing the poor—a place falling apart and crumbling down under the weight of our tumbling economy. Tears well up in my eyes at the sight, and deep sadness replaces the flimsy euphoria I felt upon seeing my beautiful dress.