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“Fencing perhaps?”
“In my youth.”
Feeling on edge, I wonder what the fuck I’m supposed to do with this man to ingratiate me with her family and, sensing my struggle, my mother says loudly, “Mr. Brookes-Stanley, or may I call you William?”
“Of course, ma’am, I would be honored.”
She nods and says firmly, “I am afraid that extra activities will have to wait because the wedding is only three days away and we need to prepare you for that.”
“Of course, ma’am.” Even her father looks relieved and I sigh inside. Why is this so difficult? I want to marry his daughter, not her family, for Christ’s sake. Thank God my mom took over reminding me that she’s way better at this family shit than I will probably ever be.
Glancing at my wooden bride, who hasn’t cast one look in my direction, I feel strangely irritated. I want her passion, her drive, her fire. Not this emotionless, empty-headed doll who doesn’t look as if she can string two words together.
Pushing back my seat, I say loudly, “If you’ll excuse us, I have an important meeting to attend and need a word with my fiancée.”
Mom looks up sharply and I pointedly ignore her and reach for Cassie’s hand. Once again, she offers it without a look in my direction and as I drag her from the room, I feel the fury bubbling inside. Whatever’s going on inside her head this morning is about to be revealed because I will not have her hide from me in any way. I want to know every thought in her head and I want her to look at me as if she wants me and can’t think of anything else. It’s time to strip away those layers and unleash the woman I know she is hiding inside.
