I gasped at my reflection. She’d given me a quick weave styled in long Hollywood waves that fell perfectly down the middle of my back. Keisha did her thing with my makeup—a soft, matte brown smoky eye, and a sexy nude lip.
“Damn, y'all are good,” I murmured.
Keisha smiled. “You’re gonna have them gagged tonight. You’re already gorgeous, girl! All we did was make you a badder bitch.”
“Marcus ain’t gonna be able to keep his hands off you,” Dyamond laughed.
I let out a weak laugh, but shuddered internally. They didn’t need to know that I’d rather fling myself off the roof before that happened again.
Once they left, I slipped into the dress and YSL heels I’d bought with Amber. Standing in front of the bedroom’s full-length mirror, I took in the complete transformation. I looked good,reallygood. Damn sure didn’t look like what I’d been through. If I was a weaker bitch, it’d be easy to get sucked into this delusion he was forcing on me.
“Wow.”
I turned as Marcus stepped into the room. As much as I wanted to two-piece him, I couldn’t deny that the man was undeniably handsome. He’d come a long way from the Timbs and baggy jeans he used to wear. The tux he wore looked custom, and his long locs were braided into an intricate fishtail braid down his back.
“You look incredible,” he said.
“Thanks,” I replied flatly, ignoring the adoration in his eyes.
He walked over with a smug look and held out a small velvet box. “I want you to wear this tonight.”
He flipped it open. Nestled inside was a thin gold chain with a diamond-encrustedMcharm.
My stomach twisted. “I’m not wearing that.”
“It’s not a request,” he said firmly, removing the necklace from the box. He stepped behind me and clasped it around my neck.
His breath hit the side of my face, warm and laced with bourbon. “Now everyone will know who you belong to.”
My fists curled at my sides, bile rising in my throat as he came back around, pulling another box from his pocket. This one held a gaudy, platinum eternity wedding band with huge emerald-cut diamonds that screamed “new money.” My jaw went slack.
“You’re not serious.”
He didn’t even blink. “You’re my wife, remember?”
Every part of me screamed to kick him in the nuts, but I remembered what happened that morning. With gritted teeth, I let him slide the ring onto my finger.
It was tacky and loud. Just like him.
“Perfect,” he said as he admired it.
I exhaled slowly and swallowed down my anger. “Let’s just get this over with,” I muttered, shoving past him and walking out of the room.
He caught up with me at the door, where one of his ever-present security flunkies was posted, peering down at me through dark sunglasses. He didn’t even blink as I screwed up my face and flipped him off.
“Why you got all these secret service ass niggas around?” I asked once we were in the elevator.
Marcus looked over, clearly surprised that I was speaking to him unprompted. He adjusted his bow tie with a slight smirk. “You do enough grimy shit on the way up, you tend to be a walking target. Comes with the territory.”
* * *
Hudson Hall was one of those places every New Yorker knew about but very few ever stepped inside. It was a historic landmark reserved for the city’s elite and hosting the most exclusive events. Tickets for something like this were easily a thousand a pop.
The gala was in full swing by the time we arrived. News vans lined the street outside, cameras flashed, as paparazzi and reporters swarmed guests for pictures and sound bites. The moment Marcus got out of the limo, an Asian reporter shoved a mic in his face.
“Mr. Stokes! Mr. Stokes! How does it feel to be one of tonight’s honorees?”
I took my time getting out, trying to avoid being in frame, but he caught my arm and pulled me into his side with a practiced smile.
