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Chapter Sixteen
Willow
I am sitting in my room, one ankle crossed over the other, and reading a book. It is the most normalcy I have had in a while, but it isn’t doing a lot to make me feel like my old self or like I am at home. Part of me wants to insist we take whatever money is left for me and buy a new place, but that would be accepting that I am stuck in this life. I can't give up and accept that just yet.
The door suddenly opens, and I look up, startled to find none other than my cocky asshole babysitter right in front of me, throwing a garment bag down on my bed.
"Hasn't anyone ever taught you the common decency of knocking? You don't know what I was doing I here or what state of undress I could have been in," I told him, annoyed as I stared down at the garment bag with curiosity.
"Sorry, TOOTS," he says, emphasizing that word, and I want to choke him out right here. I have never pegged myself for a woman with violent tendencies, but this
American character could certainly bring the worst out in me. "But there is no privacy from your bodyguard, or any privacy for the clan leader, either.
Not really." I roll my eyes and put my book down.
"What's up with the bag. Do I not have enough pretty, expensive dresses in my closet?" I ask, pointing to the whole wardrobe that had been pre-arranged for my arrival. "I am sure whatever you think I should be doing doesn't require anything else."
"That’s where you're wrong. You have a date tonight, and you need to look worthy of your title when you meet this Romanian man, Willow," he tells me, almost like a scolding father.
I look up at him, incredulously. Not only is it completely insulting that he has made a date for me with basically a stranger, is telling me I have to go, and ordering me to wear something specific, but his behavior lately has me reeling. I opened up to him a bit, in a way I had no to anyone. I thought it would help us get along better if he understood why I felt the way I did about my father, especially with the bond that I saw that they had. I thought he just didn’t get me, didn’t get why I hated that man and his lifestyle since he had no issue with it. But he has gone completely cold, and I don’t get it. I don’t know what this is with the change of heart.
I shouldn’t really care. I am not supposed to like him or want him to like me. I am supposed to be planning my big escape from here, in which case, I would never see Duncan again. Yet, something is bothering me about the way he has taken any of his feelings back, even if they were only lustful, to begin with.
"You know I don't like this," I practically growled. "I do not believe in arranged marriages, and I would think, as an American, neither would you,"
I say pointedly.
Duncan scoffs and shakes his head at me. "You will wear this dress, and you will go on a date with the man I have chosen for you, Stefan Dalca, and you will smile and be polite even if you hate the guy." He crossed his arms as he practically spits the words at me. They sounded so cruelly.
"Not that it was wanted, but I was pretty sure that kiss the other night meant you felt even a twinge of something for me. Why would you want me seeing somebody else?"
I saw him run his hand through his light hair, looking away from me in frustration. I hit a nerve.
"This was one of your father’s orders," he finally answers as if this would explain everything. I mean to say something defiant and abhorrent about my father being dead now, but then a sick feeling overcomes my stomach, and I can't do it.
I may not agree one bit with the way Kristof Adame chose to raise me, to kidnap me and force me here to be his heir, but he was still a man who commanded respect, even beyond the grave. It feels wrong to insult him, and I suddenly think I get why I am being told to go on this date. Neither Duncan nor I are prepared to defy my father just yet, even if I am the leader of the UK clan now.
I glare at him, as to not let him think he has totally won, and reach to unzip the garment bag. What I see inside, I am almost afraid to touch because it looks so expensive and delicate. I have seen wedding dresses less detailed than this.
It is a teal green, the sleeves long and will go all the way down to my wrists. If I can guess by looking, the length will likely hit just above the knee. But, it is covered in lace in an intricate design that my eyes can't seem to adjust to no matter which way I look.
The underlayer of the dress is the same color green but only goes to input mid though and only as far up as to cover my breasts, it seems. But the lace covers
much of the next area with a peek-a-boo design for cleavage. The sleeves are nothing but lace detail and will show off my delicate skin, courtesy of my dual race; the English in me and the Korean from my mother.
"There will be someone coming to help with hair and makeup in about an hour." Duncan's voice has me looking away from the dress for the first time since laying eyes on it. "I hope it is to your liking as well as to Stefan's."
"Who is he?" I question as Duncan turns to leave the room. "Who is this man I am supposed to try and be okay with marrying?"
"He is someone you met at the Clan meeting. He is known to be very charming and is actively seeking a wife anyway. He was suggested by your father, and he is certainly not the worst of the men that he could have chosen."
I nod, not sure if I should thank him for this possible kindness in this messed up situation.
"It's just a date, Willow," he reminds me, just turning his head to look at me.
"Yes, it is a formal one and an important one, but this is not the only man, just your father's best suggestion." His tone was even for once, no sarcasm or jokes, and not a hint of cruelty. I glanced sideways at him, but he left the room before I could say anything to him.
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