The summery linen dress hits just above my knees, the pale-blue fabric floating around my legs as I smooth my hands down the sides. It's beautiful. Expensive, perfectly tailored, but wearing it makes me feel like a version of myself that's not real.
My fingers move to the pearl collar at my neck, tracing over the shiny beads. That feels real. The knowledge that it symbolizes Asher's ownership over me. It's strange how that feels real, but our marriage and these showy events all feel like a performance.
The party sprawls across the back lawn, white tents billowing in the ocean breeze. Champagne flutes catch sunlight, casting prisms across linen-draped tables. Women in pastel dresses drift between clusters of men in light blazers, their laughter carrying on the salty air.
Everything screams money, a world I'll never truly belong to.
Asher's been off since he left his father's office earlier this afternoon. His jaw's tighter, shoulders more rigid. Whatever conversation he had with Leonard clearly bothered him, but he won't admit it.
That's something else I'm coming to realize. Asher wants all of me, but he's still only giving pieces of himself.
"Asher." A silver-haired man in a navy blazer approaches, hand extended to my husband. "Good to see you."
"Robert." Asher shakes firmly, his other hand settling on my lower back, pulling me close. "You remember my wife, Grace."
Robert's eyes flick to me, polite but assessing. "Of course. Lovely to see you again, Mrs. Caine."
The name still sounds foreign. I smile anyway. "You too."
They launch into a discussion about quarterly projections, something about emerging markets. I stand there, nodding at appropriate moments, feeling decorative and useless.
More board members cycle through. Asher introduces me each time, his touch never leaving my body—palm at my spine, fingers at my waist, thumb tracing circles on my hip.
"Excuse me," I butt in during a quiet moment, "I'm going to head to the ladies’ room."
Asher studies my face, gray eyes searching. Then his hand cups my jaw, tilting my chin up. The kiss is chaste, just a press of lips, but something in it makes my pulse skip.
"Come right back, Sugar." It feels possessive, and I nod before scurrying away to find the bathroom.
When I finally find it, it's enormous, with marble floors and a large vanity. Far larger than any powder room I've ever seen. I step inside, closing the door softly behind me and leaning against it.
I study my reflection in the gold-edged mirror and drag in a few deep breaths.
Voices drift from the hallway. Female. They're getting closer, voices louder when I start to make out the words.
"—absolutely ridiculous that she's here."
The voices pause right outside the bathroom door. I hold my breath, pressing myself against the wall.
"Asher Caine married that?"The second voice drips with disdain.
My stomach twists.
"She's obviously a gold digger."The first voice continues."Did you see her ring? It's a huge diamond, and I heard that his jeweler had to make it last minute."
The other woman gasps. "The wedding was planned so quickly. I wonder if she's pregnant and that's why they're rushing."
"Maybe, but I still think gold digger. She probably saw her meal ticket and latched on."
"Or maybe it's a baby trap."
Cruel laughter sounds in the hallway, and my chest aches.
"Even that won't last. He'll get bored. Trade her in for someone with actual class, actual breeding. Someone who belongs in his world."
"Poor thing probably thinks this is real. That he actually loves her."
More laughter as their footsteps fade down the hallway.
