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I tear my hand free from him, and he doesn’t try to stop me. My heart is starting to pound a staccato beat. He won’t kill me. He needs me alive, but there are other ways to break someone down. I’ve seen it with Letta and Michael. He has chipped away at her day by day, leaving a shell of the woman my sister once was. If Kane believes he can do that to me, he’s wrong. I won’t be easily broken.
Reaching for my champagne flute, I take a deep drink, hoping the alcohol will numb my heightened emotions.
Kane doesn’t speak to me through the rest of the wedding breakfast. I eat a little, but my stomach is churning too much to eat more than that.
I endure the speeches with a forced smile. They are not like a normal wedding. There are no funny and sweet anecdotes about how Kane and I met and fell in love. Every single person in this room knows this marriage was arranged. Hell, half the people in this room are also in marriages orchestrated by their family.
My body feels looser thanks to the wine, which has been topped up every time my glass gets towards empty. I’ve lost track of how much I’ve drank, but it helps me to get through the next few hours.
I ignore everyone, including his brother, who is sitting next me. Lucas tries to engage me in conversation, but I’m not really interested in small talk.
Eventually I push up from the table, needing a breather. I make excuses about needing to use the bathroom. It’s hard to get out from behind the table in the ridiculous dress that was picked for me, but I manage to escape the room and the stares of the guests, watching and waiting for me to fail. I won’t. Too much rides on this.
I drag open the bathroom door and rush to the basins. The cubicles are empty, so I let my emotions flow as I sag against the nearest sink. This is torture. How am I supposed to endure a lifetime with this man? He’s cold. Distant. And he thinks he owns me already.
The door opens behind me, and I snap my spine straight. I don’t want anyone to see me coming apart at the seams.
“Oh, there you are, darling.”
Charlotte Fraser.
My stomach twists. I’ve only met Kane’s mother a handful of times, but I get the feeling she’s going to have her nose constantly stuck in my life.
I give her a smile that I’m sure she can see is feigned.
“I got worried by how you got up from the table so abruptly.”
I hadn’t been as discrete as I thought. “I just needed a moment.” I decide the truth is better here.
“I understand. It’s a big day. Overwhelming for everyone.”
I doubt she’s overwhelmed, but I keep that to myself.
“My son is a good man, despite what people think of him,” she says.
Her son is a psychopath who probably tortures animals for fun. I smile. “Of course.”
“Now that you’re married, you’ll need to ensure our legacy. Soon.”
“Meaning?”
“Children, darling. Don’t leave it too long.” A shiver runs through me. I knew it was an expectation, but I didn’t expect her come at me with that right out the gate. “You’re due to go for the shot next week.”
What the fuck? That’s my intimate medical information. “How do you know that?”
“I make it my business to know everything that affects my family.”
She goes to the mirror, her heeled feet clacking against the floor as she does. She looks amazing, a true socialite. Too bad that her personality is rotten to the core. I watch as she pulls out her lipstick and starts to apply it in the mirror.
“What Kane and I do is not anyone’s business.”
She meets my gaze in the mirror. “That’s where you’re wrong, Elena. I control everything this family does. It’s how I keep us on top and stop our enemies from eviscerating us all in our sleep. You, whether you approve or not, are now part of this family. With that comes responsibilities. You will produce an heir within a year of your marriage. The sooner the better really. Sons. Daughters are useless.”
Her words stab my chest, but her audacity stuns me. I’ve never been spoken to like this.
“I’m not just a fucking incubator for the next generation of Fraser psychos,” I hiss at her.
Charlotte puts her lipstick away and closes her clutch bag, leaving it on the small shelf under the mirror. Then she steps towards me. The urge to move away is overwhelming, but I lock my feet in place. I won’t let her see I’m fazed.
