The silence stretches, taut and unrelenting as he watches me. Eyes so deep in dissection as though I might be less a woman and more a possession. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he sets his drink down with a soft clink.
“I’ll assume you all know why we’re here.” His voice is always taught, strung tight and high in a boom that can send chills down the back of the bravest soul. His twin brother, my awful uncle, is even worse.
Instead of toying with the inevitable, I find my voice and bravely plunge right into the deep end. The sooner I’m out of this office and on my way to the Franklin estate, the better. Assuming Archie is my husband-to-be. And even though I know there's a slim chance I’ll have any power in changing the decision, I won’t go down without a fight. I can feel it brewing inside of me.
I hold his gaze. “You’ve made a decision.”
“I always make the decisions.” The ghost of a smile plays on his lips.
Ford shifts beside me, and I glance at him, shocked by his expression barely containing his rage. I feel it simmering in him, in all of us, just beneath the skin, yet still I maintain my silence. Just as I’ve been trained. My expression carefully blank.
“You’ll be married by the end of the year,” my father says.
I’ve had since as early as I could eavesdrop to prepare for this, so I’m unsurprised. But knowledge does little to soften the impact of the words. It’s August.
“To whom?” I ask, my voice steady.
He pauses deliberately as though he wishes to prolong my suffering and punish me for my directness. Then, with the ease of a man handing down a sentence, he says, “You knew it was always going to be the Franklin boy, don’t be coy.”
The name drops between us like a lead weight; I anticipated it. I’m well aware it could belong to someone far older and significantly less attractive, but the thought still makes me gag. He’s practically my brother.
I wouldn’t expect this to upset Ford and Dex; if anything, I’d assume they’d have played a hand in securing our nuptials. But what I honestly didn’t anticipate was my brother's less-than-patient reactions to this conversation with our father. I’ve never seen them quite this uncouth.
My fingers tighten around the arms of the chair, nails digging into the upholstery. “And if I refuse?”
His chuckle is low, indulgent. “You know better than to think you have a choice. We always do what’s best for the family.”
I want to roll my eyes.
Marrying Archie wouldn't be theworstthing in the world when I take into account the fact that it could be someone considerably lessnice. I was wiser to think I’d ever have a love marriage, but maybe somewhere down the long line of ourfuture together, we could find it. Or at least the mutual respect we hold for each other could blossom into a half-decent time.
Letting my father have any influence over my future is painful. Surrendering to his decision feels like allowing his control to seep into every part of what comes next.
Ford clears his throat. “You’ve made your intentions clear. What else do you need from us?”
Father leans back, swirling his drink, watching the way the firelight catches the amber liquid.
He turns his attention to the twins, and I sit up a little straighter. “That’s an interesting tone, son.”
Oh god. I look over to nudge Ford, but it seems our father isn’t finished.
“Do you think I don’t know what my sons have been up to?”
The shift in tone is subtle in Father's voice, but the effect is immediate.
My brows furrow in confusion. Doesn’t he always know what they’re up to? The twins are his perfect little soldiers, though not so little, considering they’re both over six feet tall.
Ford stiffens. I glance at him, then at Dex, who stands rigid, his fingers twitching at his side. A tell.
I wish I could melt into the background, suddenly hating my cowardice for choosing the chair front and center—an armor for my brothers.
“I know you’ve been conspiring,” my father’s voice is pleasant and conversational, but there’s a blade beneath it. “Do you think I don’t know who you’ve been meeting with?”
I suck in a breath, suddenly wishing I wasn’t seated in front of them after all. This isn’t the type of conversation I’d usually be present for, and I’m so shocked it’s happening in front of me, I nearly ask my father if he remembers I’m here.
Ford lets out a slow, incredulous laugh. “Conspiring? That’s what you think?”
Dex shakes his head, his voice low and unimpressed. “I’ve never known you to be paranoid, Father.”
