behind the scenes, making the details work. How else do you think all these parties are planned? Your mother down there takes care of it.”
I felt the tension rippling down the table to my mother and little sister, Moira—a quiet mouse beside her. Mother, a ghost of a woman, forever doing his bidding with a plastic smile in place. I loved her and pitied her. I would not become her. I tried to rein in my rage, speaking through clenched teeth.
“Why in the world”—I took a deep breath—“did you pay for an education if you only ever”—then swallowed hard—“intended for me to be a slave to your business partner’s son?” I jolted to my feet, knocking my chair to the floor.
Father eyed me with sinister distaste. “You’re being highly melodramatic, Jessen. I gave you an education because I assumed you wanted one. Besides, with a degree in business and marketing, you’ll know enough about the politics to boost your husband in public relations at business dinners and society parties. You’ll be married to the most eligible bachelor in this entire province. Women are throwing themselves at his feet.” He scoffed. “You should be thanking me. The idea you’d be his slave is ridiculous.”
“You’re right, Father.” I stood there, fuming, humiliated he’d always thought so little of me, and I’d never actually realized it. “I’m not his slave. Not yet. But it seems you sure plan to make me his whore .”
Mother sucked in a breath. Edda disappeared toward the kitchen. I threw my napkin on the table and stormed from the room, refusing to stop when he yelled after me.
My high-heeled boots reverberated on marble. Our butler held the door open for me, my small clutch in his hand. “Thank you, Pierce.” I snatched my purse, taking long strides, trying to make a quick escape.
“Wait! Jessen, wait!”
I pivoted at the sound of my sister’s voice. She jogged up to me, all wide-eyed and sweet-faced, dark hair tied in a braid over one shoulder. Too dainty to be raised by a beast like Father, and a mother who never opened her mouth in our defense. “Moira, get back inside. Father will rail at you next.”
“I wanted…I need your help to shop for a dress tomorrow.”
“A dress?”
“Yes. I thought I’d fit in the one from last year, but I don’t.”
“Of course, you don’t. You’re fifteen. You’re growing like a weed. Why didn’t you tell Mother? The fundraiser ball is next weekend.”
She looked down at her sandaled feet. So shy. “I…I want you to help me find a dress. You have such good fashion sense, I want something you pick out. Not her.”
I softened, realizing she was becoming a young woman. God, what monster would Father marry Moira off to when the time came? I’d do everything I could to prevent it.
“Of course I will. I’ll pick you up around ten tomorrow morning. Okay?”
She beamed at me from bright hazel eyes. “I love what you’re wearing tonight.”
I glanced down at my V-necked mini-dress in shimmering emerald, showing a soft curve of fair skin between hem and brown boots. A battered pewter bracelet coiled around my forearm and a dangly pewter necklace crossed over my breasts, falling just below.
“Thanks, Muffin.” Her smile brightened more, lighting up her face. She was pretty now, but one day she’d be stop-your-heart gorgeous.
Two guards jogged to an awaiting car in the drive.
“Don’t worry about anything. I’m fine.” I jumped in my car. “Now go inside.”
I reversed and zoomed down the long drive, watching Moira in my rearview, standing in the middle of the drive and waving, forcing the guards to stop behind her. They honked, making wild gestures to shoo the sweet girl out of the way. She slowly turned as if she didn’t know she was interfering. My sweet, wonderful, devious sister.
“God, I love you, Moira.”
I flipped on my car comm, dialing Sorcha. Her face popped on almost instantly, apparently from the wall comm in her bathroom
I felt the tension rippling down the table to my mother and little sister, Moira—a quiet mouse beside her. Mother, a ghost of a woman, forever doing his bidding with a plastic smile in place. I loved her and pitied her. I would not become her. I tried to rein in my rage, speaking through clenched teeth.
“Why in the world”—I took a deep breath—“did you pay for an education if you only ever”—then swallowed hard—“intended for me to be a slave to your business partner’s son?” I jolted to my feet, knocking my chair to the floor.
Father eyed me with sinister distaste. “You’re being highly melodramatic, Jessen. I gave you an education because I assumed you wanted one. Besides, with a degree in business and marketing, you’ll know enough about the politics to boost your husband in public relations at business dinners and society parties. You’ll be married to the most eligible bachelor in this entire province. Women are throwing themselves at his feet.” He scoffed. “You should be thanking me. The idea you’d be his slave is ridiculous.”
“You’re right, Father.” I stood there, fuming, humiliated he’d always thought so little of me, and I’d never actually realized it. “I’m not his slave. Not yet. But it seems you sure plan to make me his whore .”
Mother sucked in a breath. Edda disappeared toward the kitchen. I threw my napkin on the table and stormed from the room, refusing to stop when he yelled after me.
My high-heeled boots reverberated on marble. Our butler held the door open for me, my small clutch in his hand. “Thank you, Pierce.” I snatched my purse, taking long strides, trying to make a quick escape.
“Wait! Jessen, wait!”
I pivoted at the sound of my sister’s voice. She jogged up to me, all wide-eyed and sweet-faced, dark hair tied in a braid over one shoulder. Too dainty to be raised by a beast like Father, and a mother who never opened her mouth in our defense. “Moira, get back inside. Father will rail at you next.”
“I wanted…I need your help to shop for a dress tomorrow.”
“A dress?”
“Yes. I thought I’d fit in the one from last year, but I don’t.”
“Of course, you don’t. You’re fifteen. You’re growing like a weed. Why didn’t you tell Mother? The fundraiser ball is next weekend.”
She looked down at her sandaled feet. So shy. “I…I want you to help me find a dress. You have such good fashion sense, I want something you pick out. Not her.”
I softened, realizing she was becoming a young woman. God, what monster would Father marry Moira off to when the time came? I’d do everything I could to prevent it.
“Of course I will. I’ll pick you up around ten tomorrow morning. Okay?”
She beamed at me from bright hazel eyes. “I love what you’re wearing tonight.”
I glanced down at my V-necked mini-dress in shimmering emerald, showing a soft curve of fair skin between hem and brown boots. A battered pewter bracelet coiled around my forearm and a dangly pewter necklace crossed over my breasts, falling just below.
“Thanks, Muffin.” Her smile brightened more, lighting up her face. She was pretty now, but one day she’d be stop-your-heart gorgeous.
Two guards jogged to an awaiting car in the drive.
“Don’t worry about anything. I’m fine.” I jumped in my car. “Now go inside.”
I reversed and zoomed down the long drive, watching Moira in my rearview, standing in the middle of the drive and waving, forcing the guards to stop behind her. They honked, making wild gestures to shoo the sweet girl out of the way. She slowly turned as if she didn’t know she was interfering. My sweet, wonderful, devious sister.
“God, I love you, Moira.”
I flipped on my car comm, dialing Sorcha. Her face popped on almost instantly, apparently from the wall comm in her bathroom
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