Page 8 of The Betrothal

Sliding open the doors to the expansive study, Teddy ushered me through, pulling them closed behind us and shutting out the music and murmurs of conversation entirely. The soundproofing of a politician’s private rooms.

Nerves tickled across my skin. I felt warmth building in my palms. I pinned them to my sides, trying to avoid touching my dress and leaving a mark.

Teddy moved to the front of my father’s desk, perching on the edge, his long legs slightly parted.

He slowly ran his eyes over me, my hair, lips, over the curves of my dress, to the heels peeking out of the split in the side, before returning to my eyes, a contented happiness taking over his features.

I recognised this man; his face seemed open, his smile genuine. We had been friends. This man had always been kind to me growing up. I never felt the need to perform around him, to be different. He regularly defended me to my sister, countering any attack on my appearance.

I had liked him.

I remembered the flutter of excitement when he told Ester that he thought my grey hair was beautiful, or when we were teens and the son of one of Father’s colleagues commented on my body, the way he told them my figure was sexy.

He made me feel seen. He had made me feel special.

The look he was giving me now, to fifteen-year-old me, would have caused heat to crawl over my body and desire to settle low in my belly.

But not now.

Over the years, kind, considerate, sweet Teddy became entitled and demanding. His compliments, once gentle, acquired a possessive edge. He transitioned from words of appreciation to a defensive tone, speaking of my body as if it belonged to him to defend.

When we were betrothed, the word rankled even as I thought it; he had been excited. We were such great friends, never taking life too seriously, and although we knew what our futures had in store for us, we talked as if we would tackle the future together, shielding one another.

I had naively thought I’d be in a marriage of love, with my best friend, sharing in our challenges.

However, in his early twenties, once Teddy moved into political office, his talk of our supporting one another shifted subtly to my role supporting him. Our marriage became his family.

Each interaction we had increased the tension. His position shifted, and I naturally withdrew until I barely knew the man. He wasn’t my best friend, and he was no longer a shield. He stood to benefit from the Genesis Protocol, and he wanted everything it promised him, and then we were squarely opposed.

How much of this he knew I couldn’t be sure, but I suspected he knew I was no longer thrilled with our arrangement, and over the years I noticed as he had dropped hints of his expectations for our futures, watching carefully for my reactions.

“Come here.” He lifted his hand, reaching for me.

I moved towards him gingerly, taking his hand, and he used my grip to pull me towards him, placing me squarely between his parted legs.

Placing one arm behind him on the desk, he leaned back, his other hand coming to rest on my waist.

“You look beautiful, Iz.”

His smile was devastating, but the use of my nickname felt hollow from his lips. Still, I smiled softly.

“Thanks, it’s a mum special, so I am naturally being squeezed to death under all the silk.”

He ran his hand over my hip as I stood frozen. I didn’t expect him to become inappropriate just one door away from the party, but his hand flexed against me, feeling me in a way that didn’t feel quite right.

Sitting straight, he brought his other hand upward. His fingers ghosting under my chin.

Even resting as he was against the desk, he was tall enough that we were now eye height.

He held my face in place, his gaze penetrating me.

“Mother was right, I can’t wait to marry you.”

Was that a good thing? I wasn’t sure, so I remained silent.

Not waiting any longer for a response, he leaned in, his lips sliding against mine.

I stood still as he peppered soft kisses over my mouth, his fingers sliding along my jaw and tightening the back of my neck as he pulled me closer, his mouth moving more urgently.