The inevitability drags at me. If I’m not careful, it will suck me straight down into despair.
A chauffeured car awaits us on the tarmac, and we’re soon trapped in the ebb and flow of late-night traffic. A gridlock that strangles the major arteries of the city like calcifying plaque even into the small hours.
I stare out the window, hugging myself because that’s the only comfort on offer. My mind tries to think about what happens next, then shies away as panic floods me. With the roller coaster of emotions, my headache is returning, pulsing in a tightening band around my skull.
I don’t know what to do. Don’t know what’s expected. I’ve never thought this far ahead because I was so focused on getting Dad to agree to accept Gabriel.
There should at least be a pamphlet. Welcome to your new captor. Same as the old captor but now with sex.
But I don’t want to think about that. Not yet. My mind scurries so fast in the other direction that I’m left shaking, my head empties of everything but a low buzz of white noise.
This is what you were born to do. This is your purpose.
The voice sounds like my father. Perhaps it’s just a replay of something he once said. If it were my voice, it’d be sharper. All the better to cut me with. Something more like,this is all you’re good for.
Yeah, there we go. More cutting and more accurate.
But those thoughts won’t get me out of my downwards spiral.
I stare out the window, naming each item I can see in scant light from the streetlamps. Scrubby bushes. Concrete bollards. Green signs hanging over the motorway, counting down the distance. Once I’m refocused on the here and now, I turn my gaze towards Micah.
How do people turn the cold language of an engagement contract into a marriage? I’m not good at making friends. The only reason Marigold and Gabriel talked to me were because we were the outcasts. All the other kids were warned not to play with us. Their parents whispered poison about how bad our families were under their breaths.
This time, I catch the panic before it can advance too far, yanking hard on the handbrake until the thoughts come screeching to a halt.
Smile at him. Find common ground. Give him a compliment. Make small talk. That’s how it’s done, isn’t it?
Other girls manage these situations. Each alternate month my father gets a wedding invitation in the mail. At least half of those must be like this. A contracted arrangement where the parties involved are virtual strangers.
They cope. All of them cope.
I’m nothing special. I’ll find a way to cope, too.
“Where do you live?” I ask, stealing another glance when I think he won’t be looking. Instead, I bump into his return gaze and jerk my eyes down, staring at my knees instead.
“In the central city,” he answers, tapping on his phone for a second before putting it away. “When we get closer, I’ll point out the building.”
“Penthouse?” I guess.
“The whole thing.” His eyes light with the glow of ownership. “I love living in a central apartment but hate waiting for lifts or having to make small talk with other residents.”
“So, you bought out the entire building?” My forced smile falters.
“I built it. There’s no point to owning the largest construction company in the city if I can’t use it to build me what I want.”
“But… how do you recoup costs without other tenants?”
He leans across the seat to tuck some hairs behind my ear, and I tense every muscle to stop from recoiling. Some of the smile drifts away from his face as he withdraws his hand, rubbing his fingers together as if to rid them of the touch.
“It’s my home. I don’t have to recoup anything. I’ll get my money back and more if I ever sell it.”
“And do you buy an entire gym when you want to work out?”
“There’s one in the building, so I guess that’s a yes.”
The excess makes my head spin. Dad has screeds of money but only as a collector’s item. He doesn’t like to spend it. “What else is in this building for one?”
“Offices where I can hold private meetings. Staff housing. Lots and lots of empty space.” His eyebrow cocks as he examines my expression, the slow-moving scrutiny making me feel exposed. A half-smile blooms on his face, enough appreciation in his eyes that my stomach tightens. “The ground floor is let to a bakery and a coffee shop.”
