by Ruby Vincent
“Only if I have to.”
I grinned. “Maybe you do, maybe you don’t.”
His eyes bugged, then he shot out of the chair. I took off squealing.
Preston caught me in the hall and swallowed my laughs with a kiss that curled my toes.
I controlled little in my own life. But I could have this.
For one night, I could have Preston.
“I’VE HUNTED DOWN THE coolest decorations,” Kelli gushed. “Queen of Hearts without going too cheesy. Red roses for the centerpieces, of course, with black tablecloths and playing cards as name cards. What do you think?”
Kelli flipped around the tablet, showing off the folder of collected photos that would become our party. Our group took up space next to the pool, sipping lemonade and lounging in our bathing suits.
“Love it.”
“So pretty.”
“It’ll be great,” I chimed in.
“You don’t have to take on this much,” Ivy said. “Sourcing all the decorations is a big job. I assumed you’d hook up with a party planner.”
“I don’t mind,” Kelli replied. “I actually love this stuff. I help my mom plan our Christmas parties. We do a different theme every year.”
My first week was drawing to a close and the routine of this place was settling in.
Breakfast first. Then an hour working on our special projects. Event planning for the ladies and budget planning for the guys.
Turns out young, rich, brash pretty boys who don’t meet with consequences, tend to blow through their trust funds faster than I finish a carton of chocolate peanut butter swirl.
Who knew?
Hendrix had them researching rent prices, the costs of employing a household staff, and the price of replacing your wardrobe every season.
If I have a million dollars in my trust fund and I buy two private jets and an island, how many days until I’m begging Daddy for new credit cards?
Special projects wrapped up and we either moved on to discussing our hopes and fears for marriage with a counselor that came in from town, or we had what I called “lady lessons” with Rosalie.
Then we had lunch and prepped ourselves for the group activity that ended in one-on-one time.
The day before, we took the boats and went snorkeling. Rosalie paired us off and set us loose on the ocean. Asher and I didn’t get much talking in, but we did have a good time pointing out colorful fish and testing how far down we could go.
We finished our days on our own terms. Swimming. Hanging out. Catching alone time with the guy or girl that caught our attention. Or in my case, wrangling with the decision to marry Nathan.
It may not have been my responsibility to save them, but that reminder wasn’t moving me. I imagined Vanessa trapped in that mansion and it squeezed the breath out of me.
Plus, Carter hadn’t called joke. If Carter was going to propose to me whether I like it or not, this was my chance to turn the marriage I didn’t want into something good. Funding Vanessa’s new life was infinitely better than funding Carter’s apartment in Seoul or a French chateau.
“It’ll look amazing, Kelli,” Delilah said. “What about you, Belle? Who’d you get to do the music?”
The question roused me. “Huh? Oh, I haven’t looked for anyone yet. It’s been three days.”
She scoffed with more disgust than I thought necessary. It had also been three days since Preston and I had our not-a-date. We kissed, but after that, the two of us just hung out watching movies, talking, and eating popcorn. If I had thoughts of taking it farther, they popped when Nathan wandered in and joined us. Considering what I had already done with her soon-to-be fiancé, one night goofing off wasn’t so scandalous.
“Rosalie said we could schedule the party for whichever night we choose. We were thinking the Friday after next.”
“No one told me that’s what we’re thinking.”
She flashed a tight smile. “Now you know.”
“Whatever. I’ll start looking up local bands tonight.”
My phone buzzed in my lap. I flipped it over and my heart jumped in my throat.
Unknown number.
Three days. Mal tracked my new number down that fast? How?!
Cotton stuffed my ears, reducing the girls to muted, buzzing noise. I tapped open.
555-4275: The old man won’t pay the full amount until after the wedding. We’ll have to keep it small, but I’ll shell out for the honeymoon. What do you think of a June wedding? I envision you as a summer bride.
I read it once. Twice. A third time. Each read deepened my confusion.
Old man?
Mal’s father was dead. Plus, he left him with plenty of money to afford fifty weddings.
Me: Who the hell is this?
555-4275: Your fiancé. Who else would it be?
555-4275: While we’re on the subject, the whole bride-wears-white thing is played out. Let’s flip it. I’ll wear a white suit and you wear a black dress.
Me: How did you get my number?
Carter: Got it off Nathan.
Me: How did he get it?
Carter: Got it off Zion.
Me: Delete it from your phone.
Me: Now.
Carter: Be kinda hard to plan a wedding if I did. Belize or Paris for the honeymoon.
Me: I suggest you save that money and pour it into the therapy you so desperately need. You have some serious issues, my friend.
His reply came back almost instantly.
Carter: I do have issues. The funny thing is they can all be traced back to May 12th. Seven years ago. Think that’s a coincidence?
I slammed my phone down, pulse racing. I knew I was the worst kind of monster for what I did to Carter that day. If his mission was to make sure I never forget it, he could save himself the energy. In the last seven years, I thought of that trip into the woods every single day.
My phone buzzed some more. I ignored it for the time being. Carter could continue his tormenting of me later.
“Last, food,” Delilah said. “Hazel, did you find a caterer?”
“I found the best one on the island and then Ivy popped my dream of hiring her. Our budget is too small for a full-service operation,” she said. “Instead, I’ll contact the local bakeries on who can give a good deal on Queen of Hearts cupcakes. We’ll keep the meal simple. Three courses. A light salad. Chicken, beef, or vegetarian for the main. Cupcakes and a signature drink for dessert. Something red.”
“Perfect. Give me the list of who to book by Sunday and I’ll get it done. Can’t wait to tell my future mother-in-law that we’re the first to crush our project.” She winked at me.
On that note, it was time to go.
We packed up our stuff and went upstairs to change. It was time for our lady lessons.
“Now, how many of you attended etiquette class?”
Everyone’s hand went up—even mine. You don’t get out of that kind of stuff when your mother is the dame.
Lady lessons were held in the dining room that day. Eighteen girls in semiformal wear occupied one grand table. I didn’t know what the boys were off doing but I wanted to switch places with them all the same. One perk was it looked like we were having lunch early. The server placed a bowl of shrimp salad on my charger and filled my glass with apple cider.
“Excellent.” Rosalie circled the table. “None of this will seem strange or foreign to you.”
“It seemed plenty strange and foreign the first time,” Mila mumbled. She sat across from me. “Who takes etiquette lessons in this century—besides us?”
I snorted. “Tell me about it.”
Mila started like she didn’t know I was listening. She saw my grin and winked.
“Shh,” Delilah hissed. Why she took the seat next to me I had no clue.
“What they may not have told you is there are a whole other set of rules when you go from a me to a we,” said Rosalie.
“Yay,” I deadpanned.
Mila and I stifled a laugh.
&
nbsp; “For example,” she continued, “when you introduce yourself as a family, you start with the oldest member first. Introduce your grandfather before you introduce your father and both of them before your son.
“When hosting an event, it’s polite to send an invitation to all members of your and your spouse’s extended family. This holds true even if you don’t think they can make it or if they don’t like you very much.”
That earned her a round of titters.
“While we’re on the subject of invitations...”
I tuned her out. Nothing personal. I didn’t pay attention to my etiquette teacher either.
Eventually she stopped going on about invitations, greetings, and introductions, and moved on to topics of conversation at the dining table. The good news was she sat down, which gave us permission to start eating.
“If you and your spouse are in the middle of an argument,” she said, “don’t drag your guests into it. His refusal to pick up his socks is not a public discussion, and your guests won’t thank you for making them uncomfortable.”
“Don’t know about that,” Mila said under her breath. “My parents are the reigning champs at subtle comebacks and cutting quips, and their favorite targets are each other. I’m pretty sure people come to our Independence Day bash every year just to witness their fireworks.”
I made a face. “Is it that bad?”
“Oh yeah. It’s a good thing I know a healthy marriage is two people who love each other to bits but underneath can’t stand each other. I’ll be prepared for the rest of life’s contradictions.”
“That reminds me of the dame—my mom,” I explained. “I went through what history has dubbed my print period. Lots of funky designs with fruit, cartoon characters, stars, whatever I thought of. I went to a wedding rehearsal wearing a dress covered with bananas, a galaxy jacket, and a blue headwrap.
“The mother of the bride told me I looked like a circus act. The dame came out of nowhere, told her I looked amazing and she’d be able to tell if that supermarket fragrance she was trying to pass off as Chanel No. 5 wasn’t making her eyes water.”
“Oh, shit,” Mila gasped.
“The best part is she hated that outfit and practically begged me not to wear it. If anything will make my mom go full contradiction, it’s someone getting in my face.”
“She’s badass.”
“Hello,” Delilah snapped. “Some of us are trying to listen.”
“You’d be able to hear better if you sat somewhere else.”
She rolled her eyes.
What? I thought that was a perfectly reasonable suggestion.
The staff streamed in, cleared our empty plates, and replaced them with turtle cheesecake and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
“It’s so much harder to hate this place when the food is this good,” I said.
“Tell me about it.”
I raised a brow. “Do I detect a fellow captive?”
Mila laughed around a mouthful of cake. “I wouldn’t call myself that. I chose to come, but it wasn’t to pick up a husband. All of my friends are here and it’s our last summer together before we go to college. I couldn’t miss out.”
“I get it. When you put aside the counseling and mini-dates, this is a great place to spend the summer. Snorkeling was amazing.”
“Wasn’t it?” Mila swept away an ash-brown strand that stuck to her lips. Mila was a pretty girl. Strictly speaking—with those big brown eyes, oval face, and teasing smile—she was a siren. I wouldn’t hold that against her, though. “I’ve never done anything like that. Might take up scuba diving after this.”
“Why wait? I bet we could find an instructor in town who’ll take us out. Want to go together?”
She beamed. “I’d love to.”
“Ahem.” Rosalie cut into our conversation. “Girls, if I could have your attention, please.”
“Sorry,” we said.
“As I was saying,” Rosalie continued, “it’s standard to sit across from your partner, instead of side by side. Communicating face-to-face is much better than craning your neck around. Also, it’s easier to share dessert.”
“Is it? Want to slide some of that over here?” I asked. “I’m going through my ice cream quick.”
“Yeah,” said Mila. “It’s the cheesecake I want. Ice cream is all yours.”
We leaned in, digging through each other’s plates. Out of the corner of my eye, Delilah reached for a napkin.
My glass banged on my plate, showering my food in cider and spilling it over the rim. I leaped back and my chair toppled over.
“Oops.”
“Oops, my ass!” I shouted. “What the fuck, Delilah?! What’s wrong with you?!”
“It was an accident.” She tried to maintain a blank expression, but fire spat from her eyes. “Sorry.”
“The hell you are!” I snatched up her glass and tipped it right over her head. She shot up screaming.
“Belle,” Rosalie cried. She rushed between us. “Girls, let’s leave it there.”
“Preston hasn’t changed his mind about marrying you,” I said. “He chose you. What exactly are you trying so hard to protect?”
Delilah looked from me to our silent audience. Her face crumpled.
Spinning around, she tore out of the dining room.
BUBBLES CLUNG TO THE fine hairs on my arm, popping too gently for me to feel.
Delilah doused my favorite silk butterfly dress. That earned me an afternoon in my bathroom, handwashing it in the sink.
Mom spoke to me from the soap dish. “How was your day, dear?”
“You don’t know?”
“How would I?”
“I figured Mrs. Desai gave you regular updates.”
“Your movements aren’t being reported on, Belle. I’ve spoken with her once to confirm the address to send your sim card.”
“Oh. Good to know there’s some freedom in my prison.”
Mom didn’t take the bait. “Well, tell me. How is it going?”
“So far, so good for me. None of the guys are interested in the new girl. I’ve been keeping to myself. Relaxing on the beach. Catching up on some reading. Looks like I’ll be walking off this beach ringless after all.”
“No one is interested? How can that be? You’re a wonderful young woman with so much to offer. Intelligent. Funny. Generous. I don’t understand.”
She truly sounded stunned. It was hard to be mad at someone who thought I was as wonderful as my mom did. It baffled her that men wouldn’t throw themselves at my feet, but the strong “I’ll step on your head climbing over you” vibes that I gave off would do that.
“Would it be the end of the world if no one proposed to me?” I carefully wrung out my dress and hung it on the shower rod. “I’d come home, pack for college, and life would continue moving on.”
Silence came from the other end.
“Cecilia? Are you still there?”
“I’m here, darling,” she spoke up. “Have the calls from that man stopped?”
“They have.”
“Email, social media, and such also clear?”
“Nothing for days.”
“Good. Security has also spoken to the neighbors. First, I want to say that we don’t know for certain that it’s him. The man described has blond hair.”
My hands froze on the dress. “Who?”
“The Jimenez family who live a street over said they hired a bodyguard two months ago that didn’t show up for work yesterday. They haven’t been able to reach him.”
“Mal.”
“We don’t know it’s him,” she repeated. “He doesn’t fit his description.”
“It’s him.” I knew it as surely as I knew my own name. “Anyone can dye their hair and put in a few contacts. Mal knew the second I left. He had to be close by.” I clutched my twisting stomach. “And now we don’t know where he is.”
“More importantly, he doesn’t know where you are. We’ve asked the Jimenezes to pass their information on to the
police. We’ve let them know the restraining order was violated. Everything is going to be fine, dear.”
Mom and I talked for a little while longer. I let her go with the promise to call again soon and consider picking up when Dad rang me.
I trudged out of my bathroom and shoved my shoes on. What I needed was chocolate, caramel, or vanilla therapy. Didn’t matter which. I wasn’t picky.
I went downstairs and rounded the final corner. Voices floated out of the kitchen.
“Get the banana and chocolate sauce.” Giggle. “Whipped cream too. I’ll meet you in my room.” Giggle. Giggle.
“Can’t tonight, Kel. Not feeling well.”
I slowed, pausing just short of the entrance.
“Being hungover never stopped you before.”
“I’m not hungover. I get normal headaches just like the rest of the mortals.”
“I’ll make you feel better.”
“You know I would, but I’m serious, Kel. I came down for something to take with the Advil and then I’m knocking out early.”
“Ugh.” Rapid footsteps and Kelli was in front of me, jerking to a stop. “Oh. Belle.”
“Hey. Did you scope out where they hide the snacks?”
“No,” she said, walking around me. “See you later.”
“Bye.”
Nathan looked up from pouring a glass. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I stuck my head in the freezer. Neither chocolate, caramel, nor vanilla, but strawberry would do just fine. “Plans for the evening fall through?”
“Nope. My plans were pills, shower, bed.” Nathan plucked the ice cream container from me. “I heard about your altercation with Delilah.”
“Altercation?” I pulled up a chair at the island as Nathan grabbed two bowls and spoons. “Love that word.”
“What? I use big words. Think I’m not smart and shit.” Grinning, he handed me a spoon. “I got into Dartmouth, Julliard, and Brown, girl.”
I flicked his forehead. “I’ve never been one of these fools who underestimated you. You know that.”
“I’ve never underestimated you either. Dumping food on Delilah, cursing her out, and sending her off crying is very Belle.”
“The story was changed in translation. I was minding my own business and she tipped my drink on my lap. I returned the favor.”