A strange feeling blooms in my gut. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? To just be with this woman. She’s certainly pretty, and I could just coast through the rest of my quote-unquote normal life like a good little straight boy. Maybe I should just say fuck it and join the dark side—marry Sabrina and pop out a few kids. Jeremy will probably be better off.
I give my head a slight shake. The thought makes me sick, and shame worms its way into my chest.
That’s not what I want anymore.
Sabrina’s attention is back on Regina, and a hint of guilt joins the burning nausea in my gut.What ifshewants to marryme?
After another ten minutes, the meeting wraps up, and we all shake hands. Just touching Ryan’s ice-cold skin makes me feel slimy, like I need a shower. After Ryan and Regina leave the room, my father and Ben exchange a look.
Ben steps up to me, placing both hands on my shoulders. He’s taller than me, which doesn’t happen very often, and my attention catches on his shrewd brown eyes. “I hear you’ve agreed to be my son-in-law.”
I stiffen, and my gaze cuts to Sabrina, who’s examining her nails, one foot tapping impatiently. I nod. “Yes, sir. That’s the plan.”
He beams. “Splendid!” He turns to my father. “I assume we have a game plan for their courtship so that this all seems genuine?”
“Indeed. I thought they could announce their engagement before the gala?—”
The word engagement ratchets up my heartbeat. “Forgive me if I’m being forward,” I interject. “But I think Sabrina and I should meet a few times publiclybeforeour engagement if you actually want this to look real.” I have no idea how my tone is so steady when I feel like I’m crumbling to pieces.
My father and Ben exchange confused looks, and Sabrina sighs. “Daddy.” She places her hand on his wrist, and he turns to look at her. “Marcus is right. We can tell the press and the rest of the board that we’ve been dating in private for a while, but a few intimate appearances together will boost the image that we’re in love.”
I squint at Sabrina. I can’t get a read on her at all, so it’s hard to tell if this is an act or if she genuinely is okay with this ridiculous shit. I do think she’s a lot smarter than she’s letting on.
Ben steps back as Sabrina gives me an cordial smile and reaches out, straightening the lapel of my jacket. She smells like warm citrus, and something about her is alluring but distant. Like she distrusts me.
The feeling is mutual.
“Do you know the popular little Italian place downtown?” she asks, her voice rich and musical.
“Figaro’s?”
She nods. “Let’s have dinner. Give me your number, and we can figure out a date and time.”
We exchange information and then Sabrina and Ben take their leave.
I still feel like I can hardly breathe. I try to make a break for it, but my father insists on dragging me through the whole fucking building for a tour of every department, introducing me to various employees like he’s on some sort of weird power trip. He claims it’s because he wants people to start recognizing me on sight.
I check my phone between awkward greetings, hoping for a text from Jeremy. Leaving him this morning, coupled with not showing up at the pub, makes me feel like I ghosted him or something. I did get a message from Tristan asking me to send a proof-of-life photo.
To add the pickle on the shit sandwich of my morning, my father then takes me to a high-end wine bar for lunch.
It’s about three by the time I walk into BB&B, and the inside of my head is so loud. I kind of hope Jeremy already left for the day because it takes a lot of emotional bandwidth for me to be around him, and my father and his lackeys drained it all away like fucking energy vampires.
Well, except Regina. She seems nice. And a little boring.
Tristan glances up when I enter. He looks like he’s sifting through bartending résumés, which is what I was supposed to be helping him with today. He raises an eyebrow and places a hand on his hip.
“Are you wearing a suit?”
Fuck.“It does appear that way.”
“Does this have anything to do with your late arrival?”
“Er, yeah.” I literally can’t think of an excuse, but I can’t tell the truth.
Sorry I couldn’t be here earlier. My father forced me to visit his evil lair across the lake, where I had to pretend to be one of the bad guys and meet my future wife. And then dear old dad paraded me around said evil lair like Saruman inspecting the next crop of Uruk-hai.
“Tris, can you get me the floor plan for the kitchen. I thinkI’m done with the dining room.” Jeremy’s voice is musical, and it instantly relaxes me. Until I turn around and see his face. He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes devouring me. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
