by Dark Angel
“Come on, Theo. I really, really need to get out tonight. It’s more important than ever. I’m feeling like the walls are closing in on me here.”
He looks around the room, gauging the crowd, trying to study anybody who might be looking at us or paying attention to our conversation. He’s always careful.
Too careful if you ask me. But with a man like my father breathing down your neck, I guess you can never be too careful.
I would never run away under Theo’s watch. I know my father would kill him, so I never even consider it. But slipping past the bodyguards to have a night on the town?
That’s something I consider doing every day or as much as Theo will allow it to happen.
He’s like the best big brother or cousin a girl could have.
“God, Isobel, you put me in such a precarious position,” he says, and I study his face, waiting for an answer. “But yes, I’ll try to get you out tonight. I’ll come knocking on your door if I can make it work, okay? Just make sure to be the one who answers,” he says, and I’m thrilled.
“Okay, Theo, anything you say. One more time out together before the Governor puts me under lock and key.”
He looks at me with a saddened expression. He and I both know it’s not a joking matter.
“Don’t say it like that, Isobel. Thelma will be there, and like I said before, you might have more freedom, remember?”
I kiss him on the cheek, hand him back his drink, and say, “Thank you. You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, walking away.
I know he’ll do it. He’ll do whatever he can to bust me out of her tonight, and that’s all I can ask of him. The thought of making a small escape tonight is enough to get me through the evening.
I sit at a table that has the most ostentatious centerpiece of flowers I’ve ever seen in my life. My mother no doubt chose these. Her taste is flashy, to say the least.
She likes to scream to the world, We have money, so much money.
People are looking at me like I should be happy. In truth, I’m hiding here behind this massive centerpiece hoping the Governor won’t find me.
This isn’t a good beginning to married life.
I guess you could say I looked pretty stunning tonight. I’m not afraid to say it.
My beauty team put serious effort into my look. I’m wearing the white lace dress that my mother picked out, and it reveals my long, tanned legs. I’m also wearing a white silver mask that does nothing to make me look incognito.
People still recognize me. And of course, I’m still dripping in the diamonds that my father gave me.
He doesn’t give me little luxuries to make me happy.
He does it so that I look like the Capulet princess that I am.
Thelma comes over to me and takes a seat. She can see that I’m slightly drunk.
“Baby, you need to be careful. You’re drinking too much and not eating enough. You don’t want your father to see you acting sloppy, do you?”
I defiantly look her in the eyes and take a deliberate drink of my champagne.
“I don’t care what he thinks anymore, Thelma. He’s married me away to another man, a monster. That man’s my new jail keeper, not him.”
She pushes a piece of cake towards me and says, “Eat. You need to have something in your stomach.”
I reluctantly take the fork and dig into my own engagement party cake. It has a thick layer of icing, and I can’t say it’s a bad thing. Then, she pushes some strawberries towards me because she knows I like to eat those with my champagne.
I have a look around the room.
“So, have you met anybody interesting tonight, Thelma?”
“You know me, I have my eye on several men,” she says pointing to a couple of guys across the room.
Everyone loves Thelma. She has a social attitude and a way of making people feel at ease. That and she also loves to have sex...like a lot.
She’s not in captivity like I am, so she goes out almost every night.
Like I said, I have to live vicariously through her life.
“They’re cute, kind of,” I say honestly.
“You know I don’t care about cute. I want a man, a real man,” she says laughing.
I push the cake around on my plate and eat a strawberry. It helps. My mind is starting to steady a little bit.
A big pair of hands slides over my shoulders.
I spin around to see who it is and to my total dismay, I realize it’s him.
“Isobel, my soon-to-be bride, my fiancé—are you having a good time at the party?” he says to me.
I shy away from his touch and say, “Yes, of course. Everything’s just fine.”
He leans down and kisses my cheek. I smell the alcohol and cigars on his breath.
Every part of my body is saying run away, just get out of here.
He leans in close and whispers in my ear, “I’m extremely excited to make you my wife. Mostly because the wedding night will be mine, my time to deflower that virgin pussy of yours. And let me just tell you—you better be a fucking virgin.”
He says the words, and I feel like crying.
Yes, I’m a fucking virgin. But I didn’t save it this long for a guy like him.
Again, the image of my fantasy guy, the man I’ve been dreaming about since I was young, flashes across my mind. I think I’ll never get to see him or know him.
It’s all just in my head. The reality of having to marry the Governor is smashing down on my shoulders.
Thelma is looking at me like she’s concerned. She realizes that I’m in deep trouble with this guy. He’s mean, and if he turns out to be meaner than my father, I don’t know what I’ll do.
All I can hope is that I’m allowed to have Thelma come with me.
If she doesn’t move with me to the Governor’s mansion, I’ll truly be lost.
“Sweetheart,” the Governor says, suddenly being so cordial, “It’s time to take the stage and make the official announcement. Come with me.”
I plead with my eyes for Thelma to help me. But in truth, I know there’s nothing for her to do. My future’s set in stone, and I’m afraid.
He grabs my hand and takes me up to the stage. On the way, my mother finds us. She immediately starts to schmooze the Governor. He loves when people suck up to him, and my mother has no shame.
“This is it, Isobel. Aren’t you excited?”
Excited is definitely not the word. Terrified, yes. Depressed, obviously.
“Smile, Isobel. All eyes are on you. Make us proud, or you know your father won’t be happy.”
The Governor pulls me away from her and leads me up to the stage. He’s crushing me with the weight of his arms. My size pales in comparison to this guy.
I look into the crowd. I see my father, and he’s not happy. I think again about Thelma and Theo, all that he could take away from me.
And in that moment, I plaster a smile on my face.
Fake it until you make it, right?
4
Tristan
We stop to get a bottle of tequila, Patron, on the way. When in doubt, go classic.
Yes, I can afford the finest tequila on the planet. I can buy whatever I want. But the truth is, tonight I feel like slumming it.
I’m posing as a partygoer after all.
It’s shaping up to be a typical night. We always crash the Capulet parties. Merc, Benny, and I are all dressed in our finest tuxedos, as befitting an affair thrown for the Governor.
We pull up to the Capulet high-rise. There’s massive security on this place. It’s always been my ultimate goal in life to penetrate this fortress, and yet, for all the times we’ve done it, I’ve never had a glimpse of her, the Capulet princess.
Her dad’s got her nice and covered, but tonight will be different. She’ll be on display for the world to see, and I want to know what all the fuss is about.
I’ve heard she’s beautiful, but she can’t be that gorgeous, right?
For as
long as I can remember, it’s been about the Capulets against us, the Montagues.
The war for turf is ongoing in this town.
Tonight is a major loss for us. Having the damn Capulet heiress marrying the Governor is not a good sign. Doubtless, her father is doing this to her.
No one could fall in love with the Governor. He’s just not that kind of man.
But he does have a lot of power in this town, power that we need. With Isobel marrying the guy, she’ll have his ear, and her father will have the Governor wrapped around his little finger so fucking tight that I can’t even believe it.
If only we thought of this. I can think of several gorgeous Montagues we could’ve married off to the Governor.
The difference between us and them is that I would never do that. My parents would never do that. We don’t trade our family like cattle; they’re not fucking property to be given for favors.
Our limousine is in line behind what seems like a hundred other limousines.
Everyone wants to be seen at this party.
“Look at the damn people, waiting in line to serve the Capulets,” Merc says.
“Why don’t we throw parties like this?” Benny asks.
“We do,” I say through clenched teeth because I’m suddenly feeling pissed off. “But we don’t whore ourselves out to the nation. Only our inner circle, the best of the best is invited.”
I drink my tequila on ice and burn with rage at having to be here.
Suddenly, it seems like a bad idea, not worth my time.
These damn masks might be a good thing because I want to fade into the background and just take inventory of the place. I want to research the Governor and find his Achilles’ Heel.
I want to find out exactly what kind of man he is.
I want to see what kind of Capulet forces we’re dealing with now.
And so when the driver opens the door and we emerge, my heart beats a little faster.
It’s always like this, trying to get inside. We could always get caught, outnumbered, and murdered in the back alleyway. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take for the inside scoop.
Luckily for us, we know a couple of the bodyguards.
With a simple nod from me, they let us in.
Having spies everywhere is what I do. And it’s worth every fucking cent I spend on them.
The Capulets likely have spies on us as well. It’s just how the game works.
Tonight, having insider information is working to our advantage. We walk right in like we own the place. Merc and Benny immediately go about making their rounds.
They love this kind of thing. They drink and begin to have a wild time. Normally, this is my favorite thing to do, to crush an elegant Capulet affair.
But I’d be lying if I said tonight wasn’t all about business. I just need to get a handle on the situation before it gets out of control. I don’t know exactly what I mean to do yet, but I will make my move at some point.
I mingle with a couple of socialites.
“Hi, you. Aren’t you tall dark and handsome?” a woman in her early twenties says to me.
“Yeah, well, I try,” I say, blowing her off.
What are you supposed to say to a thing like that?
Women are coming at me from all angles. They always do. It’s the same tired scene.
Yes, I could take one of them home and have mediocre sex, but at this point, I’m more interested in the business side of the affair.
I scan the room, trying to avoid any unnecessary small talk. And then I see him. A guy who has to be the Governor walks up to the stage.
He’s older and slightly overweight and to me, he looks like the complete dirty politician.
I’m taking in his demeanor and trying to figure out what kind of enemy he’ll be for me.
And that’s when I see her. My heart stops in my chest.
The world stops moving.
Time stands still.
Isobel Capulet. It has to be her. And fuck if I didn’t underestimate the princess.
She’s more gorgeous than anything I’ve ever seen. Like a goddamn angel.
She’s cringing under the weight of the Governor’s arm that clutches tightly to her slim shoulders. He looks like he wants to own her, and she looks like she’s having none of it.
Good girl. The thing is, I can’t take my eyes away from her.
This never happens to me. I feel like I know her, like my heart knows her, even though this is the first time I’ve seen her.
Is it Fate?
Because I feel like...she’s the one I’ve been waiting for. And that makes me feel strangely possessive.
The Governor grabs the microphone and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to make the biggest announcement of the evening, the thing that’s on the tip of everyone’s tongue. This is my bride-to-be, Isobel Capulet. We’re so in love and extremely happy to announce our engagement.”
All eyes are on them. The room erupts into applause and cheers.
But my eyes are on her the entire time.
I see her trying to smile. I see that she doesn’t want to. I read her body language and know that she’s unhappy.
Of course she is. The guy she’s marrying is a creep. He’s probably the last thing in the world she’d be attracted to.
And suddenly, she becomes my new obsession, just like that. I can’t contain my racing heart—I think she might be the answer to all my prayers.
Merc and Benny come to my side.
“Well, there she is,” Merc says. “She’s fucking beautiful that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, she is,” I say almost absentmindedly.
They’re talking to me, but my mind’s going absolutely fucking crazy.
All I see is her. Suddenly, she’s the only thing that exists for me, and I don’t know why.
“Do you see the guy she has to marry? Some life, huh?” Benny says.
I want to agree with him. I do agree with him. But I ridiculously feel jealous and possessive over this beautiful angel I see on stage.
This isn’t me. I don’t become attached. I never feel this way.
Merc is saying, “The Governor is pretty much what we could expect. I’ve heard about him, but I never imagined he could be so vile in real-life. Poor girl.”
Yeah right, poor girl.
The problem is I wish she were mine.
A fire burns in my heart, and I don’t know why. But one thing is sure—it’s inescapable.
I’m going to have to face these feelings at some point. I can’t tear my eyes away from her. I see her move out from under his grasp as they leave the stage.
He doesn’t even notice. He’s so enraptured by the attention and the applause that he just goes into the crowd and starts to mingle.
Fucking asshole.
5
Isobel
Governor Cornwall’s announcement is with met with roaring applause. It echoes around the room, reverberating through my skull. I wonder if they know I’m a prisoner here.
Some certainly must. They’d have to be delusional to think I’d ever willingly marry this man. Still, they cheer, clothed in finery, faces hidden behind masks.
It occurs to me that the real masks are their smiles.
His arm draped around me feels like a manacle.
Heavy, burdensome, impossible to escape from.
His laugh sends ice running through my veins. I hold my breath without thinking. The smell of whiskey and cigar smoke makes me feel sick to my stomach.
It seems to waft off him in waves. The smell of my soon-to-be husband.
The man is easily old enough to be my father, his face creased with hard lines already.
Standing next to him, I feel like a child, small, and helpless.
He finally leaves my side, and I can breath again. I feel an enormous weight being lifted as he turns away, both figuratively and literally.
Thelma is there in the next instant, winding her arm through mine.
She leads me from
the stage like I’m incapable of finding my own way. Frankly, I probably am. My legs are struggling to make their way through my mental fog.
I glance back at the Governor, already making his rounds. He shakes hands and slaps backs, his mood celebratory.
I can only thank God that he’s distracted, that I don’t have to continue breathing him in.
How am I supposed to live with this man, with his aura of smoke and liquor and insidiousness?
“Are you okay?” Thelma asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Hmm? Oh, sure.”
She looks at me. She looks through me in that way only she can.
There’s no fooling her.
“Well, I know something that might interest you.” she offers, sly smile stretching across her face.
I raise an eyebrow in question.
“There are some very hot mystery men wandering around here, very hot.”
I have to admit, I’m intrigued. I guess I’m not yet over my fantasies of love.
“Where?” I ask.
She sweeps her eyes around the room before turning back to me. I miss her answer, the words buried under a swarm of voices. The guests come to offer me their congratulations.
I feel my hand being gripped and shaken, smiles flash at me from all around.
“Well done!” someone offers.
“Congratulations!” says another mask.
I can’t tell who’s even speaking, their voices blending together.
My stomach turns all over again, their joy making me nauseous.
How lucky you are, their eyes say. What a great catch.
I bite my tongue to stop the truth from spilling free. If only they knew that this marriage was a curse. If only they could see that the man they’re praising is a monster.
I force my lips into a flimsy impression of a smile, planting my feet to stop myself swaying.
“Thank you,” I manage to choke out, forcing my hand to return the shake.
The hand holding mine is quickly replaced with another. The eyes shining down at me make way for yet another face. It seems endless, guest after guest, each more excited than the last.
Halfway through the throng, my composure begins to crack. By the time the last man has sung the Governor’s praises, tears threaten my eyes.