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“Excuse me, I’m—”
“Go. Away.” I bite out the words as I lean toward him ever so slightly, just so there can be no mistaking my tone.
He blinks, blinks, blinks like a fucking idiot before he finally gets it. He stammers a quick goodbye to Lainey and then he’s gone.
I stand before her and take her in, completely unable to look past my anger. For what it’s worth, she meets my glowering with bold confidence and a defiant set to her demure features.
“You look stunning.” Though it doesn’t sound like a compliment.
Her expression hardens. “Did you scare that man away just to tell me that?”
“Of course not. Don’t you think we should talk, sweetheart?”
“Don’t call me that.”
The edge of my lips tips up. I’m enjoying this already.
“What pet name would you like then? Petite souris?”
A flicker of pain is chased away by fury. She takes a step toward me so she has to look up to meet my eyes.
“If you intend to embarrass me here, in public, I won’t allow it. Save your childish games for somewhere else.”
“Not here? All right. Where should I take you?” My voice drips with cruel innuendo.
She’s had enough. She tries to cut past me, but my hand catches her arm, forcing her to stay put. I tsk in a mocking French way, and I know for certain if we weren’t in public, her palm would have already made contact with my cheek. She’s flushed with anger, and it’s only fitting that now we’re even.
My grip doesn’t loosen on her arm. I’m not yet convinced she won’t flee if given the chance.
“I’m assuming you saw the news today. Did they include everything you hoped they would?”
Her jaw clenches.
“Those were lovely photos your grandmother provided. Did you two pick them together? Carefully deciding which ones would paint you in the best light? Everyone seems to have fallen in love with you already. We’re the pairing of the year, it seems.”
My tone drips with sarcasm, and yet still, her expression softens. “Is it really so bad?”
The fragility in her voice is enough to enrage me.
“Don’t,” I warn.
“I-I’m sorry.”
Her big green eyes start to well with sadness.
I don’t know why she’s upset. She has everything she wants. Except me.
I won’t allow it.
I finally let go of her, wishing I could cast her away altogether and be done with it. “Save your apologies, Lainey. I don’t want them.”
Her gaze turns pleading. “I’m as helpless in all of this as you are.”
“You aren’t,” I snap.
“What have I done that’s so wrong?” she cries. “How have you managed to spin this to make me the villain? I won’t go against my grandmother’s wishes, Emmett. I’m merely doing as she asks of me. Don’t you understand?”
“Don’t I understand?” My temper is threatening to do me in. “Who better understands your situation than me? You think you’re the only one having to bend to a dictator? Try growing up with my father.”
She has nothing to say to that, and so we stand there, breathing heavily, our gazes locked in a silent standoff. I can feel my temper rising like a great wave. I’m so close to surrendering to this anger once and for all.
Lainey doesn’t flee. She has no good sense at all. If she did, she never would have betrayed me like this in the first place.
I tuck my hands into my pockets and take a step back, placing a purposeful distance between us. “So then we’ve reached an impasse.”
“I suppose so,” she says, briefly looking out into the crowd as if trying to keep herself from getting more emotional.
“You know I was wrong about you, Lainey. The courage I thought I saw in you…it doesn’t exist.”
She chuckles sadly under her breath, but there’s an unyielding hardness to it, to her, as she looks back at me with rage.
“Oh, really? I’m the weak one? I’m standing up to you right now, aren’t I? I’m holding my ground when you seem intent on intimidating me, punishing me as if you’re judge, jury, and executioner.” She steps forward and presses her finger hard against my chest as she continues with unrestrained fury. “I’ve worked my entire life to pay for my mother’s mistakes, to remind my grandmother of the good inside me. I won’t mess this up. If you’re set on getting out of the engagement, get out of it—but stop blaming me. You’re delusional if you think you don’t deserve this punishment as much as I do. You toyed with me in Italy knowing full well it would push Royce away. Do you think people are playthings? Did you think there would be no consequences? I don’t feel bad for you, Emmett.”
“This entire thing is a sham.”
She shrugs, unbothered by the notion.
“Then let it be,” she challenges. “You’re French—act like it. Surround yourself with a bevy of blondes like the one I just saw you with and forget I exist.”
