Still. His business.
Uncle Cameron clicks a remote and an image comes up on the monitor behind his head. “She’s twenty-one, well-educated, in her last year of University working toward a degree in Biotechnology. Her parents let her move into a student apartment, but she has a bodyguard, so I’m thinking she’s not getting much of a night life.”
It’s an older picture, the girl’s posing with the rest of her family, dressed up for a night out at some gala. She’s tall, chestnut brown hair. The image isn’t close enough to make out much of her features.
“This is the best ye could do?” Da says.
“That’s what Cavendish sent.” Uncle Cameron clicked the remote. “There’s a few more images, but there’s not much of a social media presence and she dinnae like people taking her picture.”
He was right, there’s a picture of her with a group of girls at a party, her head is turned away. Another family picture, they’re coming out of a restaurant and she’s looking down at the sidewalk. It’s enough. She’s not hideous. She looks healthy and she’s intelligent enough to be in college working toward a science degree.
“I’ll do it,” I interrupt a round of complaints about the terrible quality of the pictures.
Uncle Cormac’s brow rose. “Are ye serious about this, then? We dinnae work this way in the clan, but… Aye. This is important.”
“I don’t work the way the rest of the clan does,” I shrug. They all know it. “It doesn’t need to be a grand love story, though some of you didn’t start out with a fairy tale, either.”
Dad bursts out laughing and my uncles glare at him.
“Ye married Aria at gunpoint, do ye remember that?” Uncle Cameron says defensively.
“Oh, he remembers,” I say, “he just didn’t care, did you, Dad?”
“I wouldn’t put it likethat, son, it just needed to be done quickly.” Dad’s laughter dies as he looks from me to the monitor. “Ye dinnae have to do this, ye know.”
“I don’t have to,” I agree, “I am, however, the logical choice. You all get to have your grand passions and I… don’t care. I’ll treat her well. Set her up in a big house somewhere and see her as little as possible. What’s her name?”
Uncle Cormac checks the file. “Afton. Afton Cavendish.”
***
Afton…
A week later…
“Everyone’s looking forward to seeing you, honey.”
My mother is the sweetest woman alive, and capable of living in a cotton candy cocoon of denial when it comes to “everyone.”
“I’m looking forward to seeingyou,Mom.” I put on a big grin, wishing we weren’t Facetiming so I didn’t have to fake happiness about coming home. I’m sitting in my car in front of my apartment building by the University of British Columbia in Vancouver.
I'd refused to pledge my mother’s sorority, but I’m beginning to regret it. Even my father wouldn’t have expected Wyatt, my bodyguard, to stay in a house with forty screaming college girls. Having your bodyguard live right across the hall from your apartment is a dating buzzkill.
“Did Dad say why it was so important that I come home tomorrow? Finals start next week and I was planning on locking myself in my room with a case of Monster drinks and studying for the next seventy-two hours.”
“Something about guests coming into town.” Mom frowns, but the Botox is doing a masterful job of hiding it. She’s beautiful, with perfect skin, high cheekbones, and blue eyes. And theslightest hint of a wrinkle sends her racing to her plastic surgeon’s office.
But not for her vanity. Oh, no. For my father’s, so he can continue to graciously accept his slimy associates’ praise about his beautiful wife, those men in expensive suits with hard eyes and a plethora of tattoos. Once they started complimentingmewith greasy smiles and their gaze fixed on my chest, I refused to go to Dad’s ‘work parties.’
“So, this is a command performance?” I sigh. “Can I get wildly drunk and start singing Broadway show tunes?”
“Too late,” Mom says with a wry smile, “Your sister Lucia did that last weekend.”
“She stole my patented method of enraging Dad? That’s just rude!”
“Lucia was halfway through “Defying Gravity” when your father took away the microphone.” Her smile slips. “He’s been very… stressed recently, not as willing to put up with-”
“His children?” My tone is too sharp; Mom doesn’t deserve that. “I’m sorry.”
