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Know your place, he would shout. Know your fucking place.
Yes, I will… for now.
And I know my placehere… but with Nick? I have no idea. I haven’t heard from him since Wonderland, not that I can. I’m under complete lockdown and any sight of Nick would get him shot. Bryant has made it very clear that Nick is not welcome on the property. I also don’t have a phone. I don’t have anything… including freedom. I don’t know what Nick’s thinking… Did Ioffend him by leaving Wonderland when he all but offered to save me? Is the story between Nick and Lyriope finally over?
“Mr. Morelli would like your hair down, red dress, black heels, and red lips,” the guard says.
Looking into the mirror, it is all I can do not to point to the red dress on the hanger and roll my eyes. I can see the guard gets pleasure in dictating my father’s command. They all do. Each one of his men get so much gratification from doing exactly what the man says. It is like he is some sort of god, and they all are his devout followers.
“I know. Thank you.” I continue to run the brush through my hair, trying my best to pay no attention to the guard in hopes that he will simply go away.
“Mr. Morelli will be here in fifteen minutes to escort you to the restaurant. He does not wish to wait.”
I nod. “I will be ready. Thank you.”
Luckily, the guard leaves without saying anything further. A sick chuckle from the damn minion would have caused me to completely snap and beat the man to a bloody pulp. The days that have passed since Wonderland have been brutal. I’m sad, I’m irritable, and I can’t stand Pavel. The reality of what my future is going to look like is setting in. I’m slowly having to face it, and the idea of a future without Nick in it is gut-wrenching.
Every night I keep expecting him to show up in my room. I wait for him to climb in through my window and demand I pay with my body for not choosing him. For not running away with him and being his… his… I have no idea what he truly wants in all this other than he claimed he wanted me.
He’s the only one in my life who has ever claimed to want me. Me. And what do I do? I let him go. I turned him away when all he wanted to do was—save me.
Nick very well may have moved on. And I can’t say that I blame him. I wouldn’t want to continue some twisted courtship with a woman promised to marry a pretty boy weasel.
Removing my robe, I put on the dress from hell. It is two sizes too small for me, which is just how dear ol’ Dad likes it. Squeezing myself into the lycra-type material, forces my breasts inward and upward giving me cleavage that will have every man staring down, rather than in my eyes all night. Groaning as I slip my feet into the five-inch heels, I make another mental note that I will never wear high heels again for as long as I live. I think that Bryant is worried the Sidorovs are going to change their mind and not want me, leaving me to live with Bryant. His obsessive need to practically whore me out makes it very obvious that he wants me out, out, out.
Bryant Morelli is not the father I had hoped for.
He is not a nice man. Not a loving man. Frankly… I often wonder if he’s a man at all.
Closing my eyes, trying not to hate myself for following every order dictated by the sickmonster, I reach for the tube of lipstick. Delicately applying the red paint to my lips, I wonder why I am even bothering. Maybe I just need to leave tonight even if it means going on the run again. But then again, that would be me becoming my mother’s daughter. I can’t keep doing what she’d do. I have to think of the big picture and not let my impulsive inheritance blind me and make me act carelessly any longer.
The door opens without even a knock. My father walks into the room and studies my appearance. Dressed in a black tuxedo, he looks even more intimidating.
“Let’s get this over with.” He takes a few steps toward me and extends his arm. “We’re going to announce the wedding is occurring next week at this party.”
“Next week?” The idea seems impossible and… terrifying.
“We’ve been waiting long enough.”
The Sidorovs insisted on hosting an engagement party at a fancy restaurant in the heart of Manhattan tonight. My father had resisted the idea—not proud to show me off—but it was obvious that the Sidorovs wanted power players to be aware that a union of the families was occurring. They don’t want Lyriope Bailey who hides in the shadows. They want LyriopeMorelliwho is like a trophy they can show off. Every single time the Sidorovs would want to discuss a big wedding, my father shut them down. Bryant would barely even look at Pavel at the dinners, and when he did, it was with a scowl. It was obvious that my father hated my future husband, and yet he still plans on marrying me off to the man.
The entire drive is in silence. Not that I expected anything else. Even though Bryant has never actually laid a hand on me, he’s beaten me down. I’ve never had someone look at me with such dislike in their eyes before, and that’s saying something since my mother went through a slew of loser men in her life who only saw me as a nuisance. Sarah made an excuse for not attending tonight which meant it was just me and my father in an awkward but normal silence.
When we enter the large banquet room of the restaurant, every inch of space is draped in elegance. Strung lights twinkle all around, brightly colored flowers burst from large vases, and satin ribbons of orange and red hang from the ceiling. Women in slinky black dresses walk around with platters of food and flutes of champagne. Music fills the room from a full string orchestra in the far back corner of the room. Circular tables are scattered about the room with large centerpieces made of roses intertwined with black twisted twigs that appear as if they were roots swallowing up the delicate flowers. The tablecloths are a bright red rather than the typical white you would expect to see. Yet no one sits at these tables for they are all too busy mingling,as dinner will not be served for some time. The sounds, the smells, and the overall buzz of the room are truly intoxicating.
I can’t help but be impressed and feel… special. As sick as this forced marriage is, I’ve never had a party thrown for me by a parent. Yes, it’s for my marriage with a disgusting man who reminds me of a snail. His slimy head only popping out once in a while when his uncle makes him. But for a moment in time I can just take it all in and feel like the belle of the ball.
The guests only add to the energy. Each person is dressed in their finest. Women in gowns, jewels dripping from wrists, earlobes, and necks, are sipping from their glasses as they stand near their men. Every man in the room wears suits of black and exude mystery and danger to even the most innocent of eyes. If one word had to be used to describe the guest list, it would be the wordpower.
My father instantly is greeted by a swarm of people. I feel as if I’m being suffocated by the constant praise, the ridiculous amounts of ass-kissing, and the undertones of fear these men and women have for this man. It’s clear to me they all know Bryant Morelli is ruthless, and it is better to be on his good side than his bad. Still, the groveling makes me sick to my stomach.
I stand by his side as a complete stranger, someone no one in this room knows or even recognizes. I never speak. I never look anyone in the eye, and I never give Bryant a reason to be angry with me. He will. I know he will and won’t hesitate doing it in front of all his men and business associates, as has been proven before. This is a room full of people who would never question one thing the man did, even if it was talking down to his unwanted daughter. But I still hold an ounce of faith that maybe—just maybe—he’ll properly introduce me to someone as his daughter. It’s a long shot, but a girl can still dream.
What’s crazy is that no one in this room even knows who I am, and the party is technically for me.
Sidorov approaches us and leans down to kiss my cheek. I smell liquor and cigar on him, and I want to wipe the area on my face where his lips made contact. I despise this man, and I have no doubt my feelings are painted on my face no matter how hard I try to conceal them.
“Where’s Pavel?” Bryant asks him.
