Page 166 of Forbidden Forget-Me-Not

The closet wasn’t a closet. It was a damn declaration.

Floor-to-ceiling glass doors slid open at my touch, revealing racks of dresses, pants, blouses, and even riding clothes and shoes organized by color. Jewelry was displayed in velvet-lined drawers. Lingerie folded with deliberate care.

Everything was my size. Not guessed. But measured to perfection.

My fingertips skimmed across silk and satin as a cold realization settled in my chest. Father and Julian had planned this together. Not since Vegas, not since the arrest, but long before. There had never really been a choice. They just hoped that I would choose him so it would feel like my decision. Conniving snakes.

I forced myself to breathe evenly. This wasn’t romance. It was procurement. Now I couldn’t help but wonder what my father earned from selling me off. Just how much was I worth?

A ruby gown with a structured bodice caught my eye. I ran it through my hands, admiring the perfect lines and tiny details. The skirt flowed to the floor, with a slit daring enough to draw attention, and fabric lavish enough to demand it.

If I were forced to sit at their table, I would not look small.

Every movement was intentional as I slowly dressed. The gown hugged my waist and shimmered in the light.

I left my hair down but added a light curl so it fell in waves that reminded me of the ocean outside the bedroom window. The gold band remained at my throat. Let them notice it and wonder.

When I was ready, I knocked on the door, and Sven opened it immediately. As I stepped into the hallway, he gave a subtle nod.

“Ready?”

“No. But that’s never stopped anyone from expecting things from me before, and I don’t believe it’ll end anytime soon.”

His mouth twitched imperceptibly as amusement touched his dark brown eyes. Before I let him lead me toward whatever awaited, I touched his arm.

“Thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“On the contrary.” I smiled. “You make me feel less alone.”

Sven held out his elbow. “Shall we?”

I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm. The last person I had walked with like this was my husband. My chest hadn’t stopped aching since I left Goran’s arms.

Downstairs, the dining room was already filled with lively chatter. A long table stretched across the room, set for a feast. Candlelight flickered against polished silver and crystal.

Julian stood when I entered. And for just a second, his expression shifted. Possession? Appreciation, maybe. It felt more like a calculation.

“You look extraordinary.”

“Thank you,” I said, stepping away from Sven and moving to the empty seat on Julian’s left.

“I had a feeling you’d like that dress.”

“I’m sure you did.”

Father was seated across from me, but I didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, I surveyed the rest of the table. An older man and woman, whom I assumed were Julian’s parents, and three men who must be his brothers.

They all stared.

I remained quiet and composed, letting Julian take the lead rather than smiling and fawning all over them as another prospective bride might have.

“This is my father, Arturo Harrington, and my mother, Isadora.”

Pride emanated from every word.

Arturo rose from his seat as I slowly made my way to their side of the table and held out my hand. He took it and brought it up to his lips in a polite kiss. He was tall, silver at the temples, eyes like polished stone. He radiated old money and older violence.