I roll my eyes and pinch Charlie before accepting Christine’s cheek kisses and Eric’s handshake.
“It’s lovely to meet you, dear. We’ve been…friends of Charles for quite some time, but he never mentioned that his beauty runs in the family.” Christine looks me up and down for emphasis as Eric whispers in Charlie’s ear, causing him to blush.
Well.I didnotknow Charlie swung both ways. Christine moves her attention to my cousin as Eric compliments my dress and asks how we know the happy couple. I manage to say something about the Taranovs before Charlie is whisked away by my mother to meet a woman, probably someone incredibly boring, whom she’d like to see him settle down with.
“You know, dear. If your feet get tired of dancing tonight, we have a hotel room next door.”
I start to say thank you, but I’m here with my parents. But one more look across the room shows Henry, seemingly incandescent with happiness and smiling down at his soon-to-be wife.
This pain isn’t an ache. It’s sharp and sudden, white-hot misery like a knife to my abdomen, and it’s just as confusing as the ache.
“I think I’d need to dance quite a bit more before my feet arethattired,” I purr. “Eric, are you volunteering to dance with me?”
He takes my hand, and I’m whisked away, but not before I see Charlie coming back to pull Christine onto the dance floor.
And not before I see one more flash of gray eyes, loaded with emotion, narrowing in my direction.
Chapter eighteen
“Both families would like to extend their heartfelt thanks to everyone who made it here tonight to celebrate this gorgeous couple!”
Fuck me. I would rather stab myself than stand up here with this bitch.
“Tonight will kick off the wedding event of the year, of Miss Natalya Taranova—”
And that’s exactly what she is. A fucking bitch. Spoiled rotten bitch.
“To the gem of a man who we all know and love—”
She’s nothing compared to the woman who’s still carrying my DNA inside her.
“Mr. Henry Sinclair Jr.!”
My siren. My lover. My…Blanche?
The crowd cheers, but my eyes are locked on the one woman I can't get off my mind. Did I summon her?What fucking drugs did Carter give me earlier?
I blink as discreetly as I can because certainly that was a hallucination. Even as high as I am, it’s concerning that I can summon a phantasma so…real.
“Henry, what iswrongwith you? Everyone is looking at us.Smile!” The shrill whisper of myfiancéereminds me of my reality as I snap my attention to her.
Putting my game face on, I flash my bride-to-be a gleaming smile for the crowd, hoping she can see how much I loathe her. She needs to learn soon that this union will be nothing but hell on earth for her. I’ll certainly be in one of my own. Having experienced the presence of my goddess yet being forced to live a life without her will be worse than any hell that could possibly exist in the afterlife.
“What were you looking at anyway?” she asks, snaking her hand around my arm.
Fighting the urge to shake her off, I glance again to the spot where I imagined my…fuck.She’s still there. And I know she can’t be something I’ve conjured because I would never make her look at me with that look in her eyes…not joy or lust. Not fear or pleasure. It’s shock and hatred laced with…pain? And not the kind I enjoy seeing.
Fuck.
“Henry!” Natalya hisses, squeezing my arm when I don’t respond. “Henry Sinclair, I swear to God, if you don’t sort your shit out right now before this entire room full of people looking at us think you are anything but elated to be standing by my side, I will go crying to your fucking father.”
Slowly, I turn my attention from the beauty in the crowd to my bitch of a life sentence, forcing myself not to throw up when she gives me the ugliest fake smile I’ve ever seen. “Oh, that got your attention, huh? Daddy Dearest has quite the hold over you, doesn’t he? I hear he has some…unique methods of keeping you in line.”
“Fuck you, bitch,” I spit. “You better watch yourself because I’ve picked up a thing or two fromDaddy Dearestand don’t think for a minute I won’t bethrilledto use them on you.”
I swear to god I’m two seconds away from choking this bitch out right here in front of everyone, consequences be damned. But John Carter comes to my rescue just in time, sweeping the whore off my arm with his practiced chivalry and positioning himself between us. To the room, it looks like the best man is congratulating the bride- and groom-to-be, but I know he’s saving my ass.
“What’s going on up here, man?” he asks, draping his arm around my shoulders.
