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“But they’re already starting fights,” my mother says. “It’s only been one day.”
I close my eyes, trying to listen without reacting, but it’s hard.
“They’re just trying to find out the pecking order.”
“What?” My mother gasps, and so do I. “Honestly, you can’t be serious.”
“It’s natural. And it’s good for them. It’ll toughen them up.”
“They’re girls!” My mom is visibly upset, and I hate that.
“And the heirs to our company,” my father says. “Unless you want to go and make a male heir, this is what we’ve got.”
I frown and sigh away the hurt in my heart. Of course, my father would’ve rather had boys than girls.
“This is my decision, and I am sticking with it. The girls are staying at that school so they can mingle with the De Voses and prepare for the future.”
Prepare for the future?
What does he mean?
“But shouldn’t we wait to decide which one of our girls marries that boy? I mean, they’re not exactly—”
I can’t hear what she says anymore because all I can think of is … marriage?
Marry that boy?
Who?
I want to shriek, but I plant a hand against my mouth to stop the sound from escaping.
My father stops pacing. “Hey, did you hear something?”
My eyes widen.
Without thinking, I rush away in the opposite direction, taking the long route to reach my room just to avoid being seen. And I slam the door shut behind me, my mind going a million miles an hour as I stand here breathing against the wood.
I’ve known it for so long, but I kept denying it, hoping it would go away if I didn’t think about it.
But it hasn’t.
Ever since we were little kids, the tone was set.
My father decides who we marry.
All this time, I thought the De Voses were merely his associates … but what if one of us is supposed to marry one of theirs?
A shiver runs up and down my spine.
I always thought I wanted this. That I wanted to belong to this family and make them proud. But the mere idea of being married off to anyone makes the bile rise in my throat.
I slowly walk away from the door, still staring at it like the fires of hell lie beyond.
I am not an object. My sister is not an object. We deserve better.
We deserve a life of freedom.
The sudden sound of the window on my left being opened makes me swallow a shriek. Climbing into my room … is none other than Luca De Vos.
I take a few steps back, clutching my towel tight as it’s the only thing between him and my naked skin. His eyes roam freely across my body, taking ample time to soak up every inch of my skin, and it instantly makes me want to take a cold shower.
Fuck.
I never really stopped to think about how much of an effect just his gaze has on me. Or that lip he just bit while looking me up and down like some tasty piece of meat he wants to devour.
“W-What are y-you doing here?” I stutter, completely losing it because this guy is in my room, and I’m not wearing anything but a skimpy towel.
He runs his hand through his wet hair and pushes it back, and it used to make me think he was arrogant, but now? Now all I see is just how muscular and veiny his arm is, and just how wet his shirt is as it reveals all the thick abs underneath, and …
Oh my God, why am I thinking about Luca like that?
“I wanted to see you,” he says.
See … me?
His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his eyes shoot up and down my thin towel again.
Is this thing see-through? Fuck, I hope not.
I still walk back slowly until I bump into the wall and realize there is only one way out … the door. But the second I take a glance, he’s right there, blocking my only path out.
“Don’t be scared.” He raises a hand. “I just want to talk.”
“Couldn’t you ring the doorbell?” I ask, clearing my throat as he stalks closer.
His face darkens. “No. Your parents can’t know I’m here.”
My eyes widen. “Why?”
“You know why,” he says through gritted teeth. “Same reason mine can’t find out.”
My lips part in shock.
Does he know too?
“I’m not what they want me to be. I’m not the perfect boy who obeys their every request,” he says.
“I’m the same way,” I reply. I don’t know why I say it or why I even care.
“I know.” A lopsided smile forms on his face as he comes closer and closer. Every step he takes makes my breath falter more and more.
He swipes away more rain from his face, brushing his hair aside. A few bruises appear underneath, bruises I don’t recognize from the fight at school. Did someone else hit him?
