“What can I wear? I doubt I can show up in one of your Slipknot tees and ripped jeans.”
He doesn’t smile, but I could swear his dark eyes lighten with a little amusement. “Maggie will help you. She’s got an outfit foryou just for tonight. She’ll help do your makeup and whatever else you want.”
I so badly want to ask why he’s being so nice. Is he trying to keep my defiance in check because he desperately needs this to go well in front of his father?
I nod, not sure what else to say.
“You’ll wear a choker to cover up that neck too.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “Why?”
He licks his teeth. “You have scabs from sawing off a dog collar plus a hickey that my best friend gave you. My tastes in the bedroom may be vastly known to the people we’ll see tonight, so they may not seem surprised at the state of your neck, but I do not need anyone staring at you and making comments or asking questions. You’ll cover it up. Understood?”
I tilt my head to the side and attempt to shove down my surprise. What on earth are his tastes in the bedroom?
I dismiss it because I don’t care. “Alright, fine.” I drop my head again to face my lap, unable to be held hostage by those eyes any longer.
He straightens and hovers a few more moments before saying, “I’d really like this to go well, Elodie. If it doesn’t, it’d just give us both hell. It’s best just to fake our way through it, for both our sakes, okay?”
I nod. I know he’s right. But the hatred between us runs so deep, it’ll be a miracle if we can pretend otherwise.
I scrub my face. Faking happiness with Caden seems as impossible as escaping here. I wish Lewis was here to give me his magical words that would reassure me, soothe the anxiety that’s crippling my insides. He’d tell me something like, “You’re a badass bitch, El, don’t let none of them wastes of semen get you down.” Or maybe, “If you’re supposed to be Caden Blackwood’s girl, then you go in there and show them what that should look like. Show them that you’re too good for him, because you are.”
But he’s not here. He won’t say anything to help my depleted self-esteem. And he won’t be there to get me through the night. He won’t be here to get me through any more treacherous nights.
Tears prick my eyes and a deep ache forms in my chest as a fresh bout of desiderium rolls in like a thunderstorm. What I wouldn’t give just to have one more cuddle from him. One more encouraging smile.
***
I’m staring at a stranger in the mirror. Or a ghost of my former self. I look… kind of pretty. It’s unnerving.
Maggie came in after lunch and dolled me up. She’s a no-nonsense kind of woman. I guess you’d have to be, working for these types of degenerates. She didn’t talk much except offering me one piece of advice: “Tonight, you are Caden’s fucking slave. If he decides he wants you to drop to your knees and suck his dick in front of everybody, you do it. Trust me, girl, there will be no salvation for you if you don’t.”
I didn’t tell her that if he tried to do anything of the sort, I’d grab the nearest butter knife and ram it into his balls until all the contents drained from them.
But I must admit, it got my back up. Caden’s the most powerful person in my life now, but at this party… his father will be top dog. He’s not at the top of the ranks, the masked man is at the very top, but I don’t think he’ll be there. I hope to God he won’t be. He’s too elusive to be seen at some inane engagement party. Either way, Caden’s superiority will be muted tonight. So, if I were to deny him anything he demanded of me, I wouldn’t have just him to answer to.
I just have to pray his disgust of me travels through this evening and he won’t ask me to do any such thing.
Once I’m all dolled up, wearing makeup that I hate to admit brings out my blue eyes, blush on my cheeks that makes me look like I’ve got some remnants of life still running through my veins, and wearing a navy blue sparkly fucking ball gown of a dress, I head downstairs, the heels of my stilettos click-clacking on the hardwood floor. I feel like Bambi on ice, it’s been years since I wore heels – wore any shoes, really – and my ankles are threatening to snap already.
With my heart in my throat, my palms sweaty, the loose tendrils that Maggie had manoeuvred to hang freely from my pinned bun falling in my eyes, I walk into the lounge and see three suited and booted men that, for a moment, make me forget how to breathe.
Fiz has this curly hair primed and groomed, tight neat curls falling loosely around his head. They’re all in black suits, but Fiz wears a charcoal grey rollneck sweater over his white shirt and the same white gold chain lacing the folded collar. He’s currently hovering by the fireplace, looking at the couple of framed pictures of people I’ve never met, the sharp line of his jaw shadowed and honed under the dim light of the lamps.
Alfie’s kneeling on the floor in his suit, still working on that Lego model while he waits. It’s the stillest I’ve ever seen him when he’s sat in front of that thing. It seems to be a calming hobby for him. His golden hair is gelled and the loose curls at the end are all nestled into the nape of his neck. His broad shoulders spread wide in front of me, the black blazer looks one inch away from splitting if he curls his body over any more.
And Caden Blackwood faces me, locking his eyes with me as soon as I walk in. He looks like he was just pacing, nerves emanating from him and hitting me from across the room. His white shirt is pressed and pristine, hugging his slim frame while his blazer remains unbuttoned. His tie is dark red, the same as blood. He’s got rings on his long fingers. Thick silver and blackbands that glisten in the light as he sticks a couple fingers in between his tie and collar to tug at it as he glares at me.
He still has that dark and depraved air about him, but it’s brightened just the slightest by something compelling. Something that makes my skin prickle and my stomach twist as his eyes glue to me. He doesn’t look at me with the promise of pain but rather… I don’t know what I see there. An awkward, glazed look that makes him seem like a nervous teenager. He almost looks harmless.
I swallow hard and step past the doorway, trying to remember how to gather air in my lungs so I don’t pass out.
I clear my throat. Alfie and Fiz turn round to face me.
“Woah,” Fiz says, giving a low whistle. “You clean up good, Sleeping Beauty.”
I’m suddenly thankful for the blush on my cheeks, hiding the way my skin is heating under the weight of their eyes.
