Talking to him is getting me nowhere. I’d have more productive conversations with a rock wall.
I follow him to the study on the second floor, and it occurs to me that he could be at my family’s estate. Why meet with us here and not at the fancy new house he acquired? Was the estate part of his deal with my father? How fucking connected is my father with these people? What the fuck did he do?
Aiden opens the door to find Elizabeth and Father sharing heated words on the other side. Their conversation cuts off abruptly as soon as we enter the room. Elizabeth gives me a look like she is resigned to her fate, and I redouble my vow to do whatever it takes to stop this before it’s out of my hands.
There has to be something I can do or some other deal we can make to excise him from our lives. I’ll never forgive my father for putting us in this position. I feel like I’m missing a big part of the picture. Something crucial. I’ve been so focused on tracking down leads about our mother that I’ve let this clusterfuck surprise me. I should have been paying closer attention.
I want to hold on to that thought as Father and Aiden begin to finalize the arrangement. I need to figure out why it unsettles me so much, but my head fills with fuzz from panic, and it’s as though my whole being becomes lighter, like I could float away at the slightest breeze. My brow and palms grow slick withsweat, and the room around me, as well as its occupants, fades under a white haze.
I have enough awareness to realize it’s an anxiety attack before I’m catapulted into a memory I only visit in my nightmares.
It’s as though I’m in two places at once. In reality, I’m next to Father and Elizabeth, but at the same time, my thoughts are assaulted by the sound of my screams. As Aiden speaks to Elizabeth, asking her questions about her preferences for the small, intimate wedding ceremony he has planned—how can it possibly be intimate if he wants it at the St. Louis Cathedral?—Father answers over Elizabeth, who merely rolls her eyes and maintains her silence. Does she even want this? Or is she going along with it so she doesn’t upset him?
I sink into a chair in front of the fireplace as the memory swells inside my thoughts, growing bigger and bigger, a wave gaining strength and speed as it hurtles toward shore. The string connecting the two moments is the overwhelming sense of powerlessness. I’d been powerless to save my mother.
And now, I feel powerless again. Powerless to stop Elizabeth from being forced to marry O’Connor. My nails dig into the leather of the chair to hold on to the present.
That night, I’d arrived home late from a long day of classes. I was supposed to be home earlier to help my mother prepare dinner for some politician or another—I can never recall who it was, though the police have already ruled them out as suspects. I’d been too late to save her. I’d found her in a discordant tangle at the foot of the stairs.
Listening as my father arranges Elizabeth’s marriage to Aiden isn’t exactly the same, but my nervous system doesn’t understand that. All it knows is that something terrible is happening, and it feels like there’s nothing I can do to stop it.Like I’m going to have to watch as everything implodes right in front of me all over again.
Why have a wedding in such a big church if there won’t be many guests? Why have a service at all? It doesn’t make any sense. O’Connor doesn’t seem like the type, and Elizabeth is so checked out that I’m not sure she’s even paying attention. Have we really changed so much in the past year that I don’t know what to say to her to get her to object to this? The devastating answer is… yes.
But Aiden barters this deal with the controlling air of a king, and my father—much to my surprise—agrees with every point. They’ll be married in the church, by a priest, this coming Saturday.
My heart trips over itself, my pulse pounding a staccato rhythm in my ears. I stifle a gasp as the memory repeats in my head, over and over and over. Blood-red stains my vision. They are so distracted by their negotiations that none of them seems to notice my spectacular spiral into a mini breakdown. I’ve grown better at hiding them, I think. So much so that I can go through it while sitting less than six feet away and not have them realize a thing.
As they wrap up their meeting, the fuzzy buzzing sound fades from my ears, and I regain my careful composure. Lock it away. Stay strong. Don’t allow anyone to see you falter. This time, my mother’s voice comes from another memory, a happier one. I cling to it as I carefully brush the nonexistent wrinkles from my dress, smooth my hair, and rearrange my features into placid acceptance.
Too late, I realize Elizabeth and Father are walking, heads tipped together, voices a low whisper, out of the study and to the stairs, leaving me alone with O’Connor once again. My muscles lock for a fraction of a second until I remind myself to stay loose and unaffected. He studies my face, a frown pulling at his lips.There’s barely any space between us. As I rise, I move to step past him, but he grabs my elbow.
“Let go of me,” I say, my voice low and dark.
Of course, he doesn’t listen. Instead, his grip turns bruising, and he says, “No matter what you’re thinking, I want your word you won’t interfere. Your fury is admirable, but fruitless. It was one night. You really didn’t think one night with you would mean I’d change my plans.” At my silence, he croons, “Oh, how sweet.”
It shouldn’t be a betrayal, I barely know him, but after the night we shared, I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I was wrong. And as someone who is always right, being wrong infuriates me.
I grip his arm and shove it away, giving myself enough room to maneuver around him.
While I’d been in the midst of panic, one thing became startlingly clear. My father may be a hypocritical asshole, but he’s always been right about one thing: you can’t sit around waiting for opportunities to fall into your lap—you have to take them.
And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
I shift to move around his imposing body, but O’Connor moves faster than I remembered he could, blocking my way. Scowling up at him, I cross my arms over my chest. The mask I wear around everyone else slips effortlessly back into place. I rarely allow myself to be vulnerable with anyone, and now that he’s seen me at my most defenseless, I can’t help the automatic urge to hide myself away. Let the ice princess reign.
He had a piece of me the night we spent together.
I gave him more when I begged him not to do this.
No way in hell will I ever let him have another.
He can go fuck himself.
“I’ll have your word,” he says, lifting a brow, his hands shoved casually in his pockets. “Cat got your tongue, pet?”
“Don’t call me that,” I answer, my tone calm despite the rage brewing inside me. Rage against him. Against my father. Against me. Maybe even against my mother, for whatever secrets she kept that cost her life. “After all, we’re going to be brother and sister soon. What would my father think if he heard the way you talk to me?”
His jaw clenches then unclenches, and I smile. He gives me a hard look, and for a moment, I think he’s going to push. Another moment, I swear he’s going to take it all back, but then he steps aside so I can pass.
