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For my twenty-fifth birthday I went skydiving. Tandem style with the instructor. The free-falling had been my fear, but once I was actually doing it, it seemed oddly natural. A beautiful experience. But the snap of the parachute, and the sharp tug of the straps on my chest, along with what felt like a vertical lift, stealing my air, had been shocking and unpleasant. It was too drastic, too sudden. I had never gone back for a second dive because of it.
Bradley’s words were like that chute opening. I felt jerked into an air-robbing realization. Yanked up and out of myself.
I was going to be the wife. The showpiece. The breeder and the party planner.
Just like I had wanted.
But with one little twist.
There would always be a mistress or a hookup. Someone whose company he actually enjoyed.
It was the most humiliating shock of my entire life and I felt the depth of my stupidity. My gullibility.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.
I thanked him, as images of the stationery my mother had ordered for me danced in front of my eyes. Mrs. Bella Rose Alexander.
Such a classy name, my mother had said.
Because classy was everything.
At the moment I didn’t feel classy.
In my head I was raging. I was slashing tires and setting his golf clubs on fire and howling like a wild animal. I was tossing back whiskey and throwing the glass at the fireplace while wearing the world’s sluttiest lingerie set ever. Inside, I was strong and powerful and confident, and he would never stray from me because I was so damn good in bed.
But outwardly I thanked him for wanting to marry me. Outwardly, I was pathetic, passive. God, it was cringeworthy. Disgusting.
And I fought the urge to shrivel and shrink and cry, and instead plotted my next move.
The future I had planned was gone. Destroyed. I could never get it back.
But I could get even.
When Bradley left my room with a smile, I texted Christian Jordan.
Can I see you?
My fingers were trembling.
Sure. When?
Tonight.
I was running out of time. My wedding was in seven days.
That wasn’t a lot of time to turn myself into a sexual ninja, humiliate Bradley the way he had humiliated me, and call off my wedding.
—
I had put Bella from my head already. Dismissed the idea of stripping her naked and showing her who was really in charge. I didn’t need her bullshit—like the shit she’d pulled in the bar the night before—but I didn’t need this reserved, polite facade she’d given me today either. Or her judging my brother. Cain was a fucking mess, but only family could say that. Everyone else could suck my dick.
Bella might be beautiful, but she wasn’t dick-sucking material. She was an uptight princess used to getting her way.
Yet I wasn’t even halfway to the restaurant I had told Ali to meet me at when I got a text from Bella. She wanted to see me. Tonight. Interesting. Whatever her douchebag of a boyfriend had said to her, it had sent her straight to me. I didn’t even hesitate. Fine. I’d listen to what she wanted.
Because while I wasn’t sucking down a bottle of Jack a night, I was just as destructive as my brother in my own way. I might not be damaging my liver, but trouble was like a red flag being waved and I was the bull. I charged toward it every fucking time.
Like Ali.
