“Our childhood houses hold all our deepest secrets…
For they’ve seen us grow up, and as such, they are witnesses to our lives.
And what person grows up without trauma?
That’s why we should be careful…
Because with a little digging, people might discover our greatest pain.”
Diana
Diana
“Well, that’s presentable enough,” I mutter to myself as I study my reflection in the mirror and run my splayed palms over my silky white dress that cascades down my form, leaving a huge split on the side. It gives a peek of my thigh, hugging me so tight that it showcases every dip and curve that I wish to hide on most days.
However, when I entered the walk-in wardrobe, it had only this dress on a single hanger, along with a lingerie set and a nightgown. The silver heels stood underneath it, and I knewwhoever picked it out had thought everything through because all the items matched.
As if it’s my wedding dress, and the bouquet lying on the bed finishes the composition.
Red roses, of course
I grab the brush from the nightstand and apply a little blush to my cheeks, then put more lipstick on. I haven’t slept, so my makeup is still fresh, and I still don’t understand why the hell I needed to change in the first place.
One might think I’m a real bride who is about to celebrate a special occasion and not the fake bride who has a grumpy asshole for a husband who can’t stand being in my company. And the worst part? I find him attractive despite all that.
I should finally invest in therapy again and study my daddy issues. That’s the only explanation for this kind of behavior. Maybe I have a thing for men who show zero interest in me? That’d be my attachment issues summarized with one single crush.
A loud knock echoes, and Matilda enters with two women trailing her.
The one wearing a standard black-and-white maid uniform introduces herself. “Hello, Mrs. Wright. My name is Anna, and I’m at your service.”
Say what now?
I look at Matilda because that’s probably another rule of hers. Does she have some ancient book lying around giving her pointers, or does she come up with all this on her own? “Anna will handle all your things and tasks. If you need anything, you call her.Not Leon.” She emphasizes his name, and I shrug. I wouldn’t have called either way, but I’m curious to know why she’s so adamant about not bothering the butler. Unless it’s another rule to follow? “And this is Ria. She will take yourmeasurements now.” She points at the woman wearing a black dress and matching flats.
“My measurements?”
“Yes. She’ll be your personal shopper and stylist. Once she has your measurements, she’ll be able to bring you all the clothes you might need that would fit you and complement your beauty.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. I have clothes at home.”
Ria and Anna share a look before casting their gazes down as Matilda frowns at me and goes to the bed where my black dress lies. She picks it up and checks the material and the label. “This is very cheap, and the color is washed out. If you wore it for your wedding, I assume that was the best dress you had.” I blink at her because, yes, that’s true. I never had expensive clothes growing up anyway, as Father considered it a waste of money. According to him, no matter what I wear, I’ll always be the daughter of a whore, so there was no point in trying to look classy.
Father is lucky he can still hold Grandma over my head. Otherwise, he’d be drowning his sorrows in alcohol along with Grant right now.
“Not all of us can afford designer clothes,” I finally say. Something crosses her face, but it’s gone so quickly I think I’ve imagined it.
“You’re a Wright now. Whenever you go out, you represent your husband and his family name. If you don’t look good, it reflects badly on him, and I won’t have the press spreading rumors about Orion that might harm him. He faces enough scrutiny as it is.”
My stomach flips at this. “What do you mean?”
She waves her hand. “Doesn’t matter. You will wear the clothes Ria chooses. You can bring your old clothes if you want, but you won’t wear them.”
At this moment, I understand two things.
Matilda has a soft spot for Orion, and whatever she does, she thinks about him first, which probably stems from the fact that he was hurt so badly in that fire all those years ago.
Reading between the lines, I assume the press hasn’t been kind to him. It never is when it comes to anyone’s looks.
