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He shook his head, slid his hands into his pockets, and bit his bottom lip. “Why the hell do we have parents who are so fucking self-absorbed that they bred children to be used as status symbols to hang onto this family name that I now hate?”
“Come on, Mark,” I said with some annoyance, knowing he was more pissed that he felt controlled by our parents than he was upset to be marrying Pollyanna. “Polly is fucking gorgeous. The woman could have any man on the planet begging to marry her, but you’re pissed because our parents insist upon you being the one.”
“Not true,” he said, shaking his head. “Sure, she’s beautiful, and she’s amazing in bed, but she’s nuts, man. I mean it. She’s fucking crazy.”
I watched his eyes go wide as he proclaimed that truth. I felt he’d come to this conclusion before he came to see me in California because he’d never seemed to have an issue with her before. Now, it was clear that something was up with this chick because my brother seemed more terrified than pissed to have to marry the woman.
The icy chill of the air was biting at my skin since I’d taken my jacket off, but the heat rising inside my body made me warm from the inside out. It was panic setting in, and not for me, but for my brother.
“What exactly are you talking about, her being crazy?” I asked, trying my hardest to help the guy level this all out in his head. “I mean, if we’re honest, every chick in that room is out of their damn minds, hungry for money and status.”
“You know how Mom is, right?” he questioned.
“Yeah, and poor Mick got half a dose of her true colors tonight, too.”
“Well, Polly is sure to be ten times worse from how she controls every move I make. I can’t even fucking think for myself without her insisting I do or say something a certain way. She nitpicks everything. Oh, and if I’m out golfing with Dad, she’ll randomly show up. I swear to God, she follows me everywhere I go. Everywhere.”
“Jesus Christ,” I answered. “Why? Did she catch you with another woman or something?”
“Hell no,” he said. “It’s almost as if she treats me like I’m this weakling who does everything wrong and can’t be trusted out of her sight.”
“Maybe it’s just childish insecurities,” I said, hoping I was right.
“Really?” he said. “Is marching into my room at three in the morning because my phone was on silent after I landed in London, jet-lagged and completely exhausted from the flight and ten hours of meetings, just a childish insecurity?”
“Holy fuck,” I answered in disgust. “Please tell me she was on that business trip with you?”
He grinned in a sinister way. “No,” he bit out. “She flew over on her parents’ jet because I only texted back okay to a ten-paragraph text she’d sent while I was in a meeting.”
I stood there stone-faced and not knowing what the fuck to say in response.
“Have you brought this up to our parents?” I asked.
“Why would I bitch about a psychotic fiancé to our parents? No, asshole, I talked to her about it. I fucking communicated and insisted that if she didn’t knock this shit off, I wouldn’t marry her.”
“I’m guessing she did?” I cringed in response. “Since the wedding is happening tomorrow?”
“She did not. But she did tell our mother that I was psychologically abusive toward her, and I needed therapy.”
“Well, that goes without saying. I think we all need therapy, growing up the way we have,” I tried to tease. “What did mom say? I think that’s the pressing issue.”
“Our mother told her that she would deal with me and that not a word was to be spoken about my abusive behavior.”
“So, she set Polly in her place?”
“No! She lost her shit on me and said that if she ever had a woman come to her with complaints like that again, she would make sure I regretted it.”
“That’s just an empty threat,” I said, rolling my eyes. “There’s nothing our parents can do to ruin our lives unless we allow them to mentally fuck us up.”
Mark did that snake-grin again, “You think so, eh?”
“I know so,” I answered assuredly.
“Well, plans are already underway to get you back to New York before they ship you to France to take Sebastian’s place there.”
“Well, that idea can go fuck itself,” I said, furious to hear that plans were underway for my life and my brothers knew about it.
“Our family isn’t one of the most powerful in the world because our parents are stupid, man,” Mark said. “They know what they’re doing and are extremely stealthy in achieving whatever they want.”
