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The past taught me that much.
My fate had been sealed a long time ago.
I was a broodmare.
I’d learned that the hard way, but I’d hoped it would be with somebody I knew and who was of my generation, not my grandfather’s. Somebody I could at least tolerate.
There were young Five Pointers. Not all of them had a marital history worthy ofThe Oprah WinfreyShow. He could have married me off to Jonny Kendall or Cade Frasier. Men I’d been raised with. Both jackasses and loyal to the Five Points but, because of their ages, due to marry.
That he hadn’t chosen them was a punishment in itself.
But the punishment wasn’t mine.
Like always, it was aimed at my mother, then at me for daring to share her genes, but she wasn’t the one who would be dealing with the aftermath of this.
I was.
This was my future.
She’d already ruined hers by screwing around on my father and now was a prisoner in her own home. By passing on her DNA to me, she might have destroyed my life too…
But I wasn’t going to take this lying down.
I refused to.
Carefully, I placed the spoon between my lips and carried on eating the chicken broth.
“Aren’t you excited?” he derided, his satisfaction clear even though my lack of reaction appeared to annoy him. “Isn’t this what every girl wants? Bill is quite a catch. He’s high up in the ranks. You’ll be able to rub shoulders with the O’Donnellys as his bride.”
“We’re related to them. If it hasn’t happened by now—” I almost wanted to slap myself for the retort because reminding him of our low status was a recipe for disaster.
Shit.
Wewererelated to the leaders of the Five Points—through Mother.
That link should have been enough to have them invite us to all the big events including Finn and Aoife O’Grady’s wedding, but we hadn’t been because of two or ten fuckups on his part.
He’d been complaining about that ever since. It didn’t matter that the day had ended in a bloodbath. He’d just resented the lack of an invitation.
Seeing his ears turn red with rage, quickly, I added, “But of course, you’re right. I hope that my marriage will be… I hope…”Finish the sentence, Mary Catherine. Finish it! Now! Before he gets even more suspicious than he already is. “I hope it serves our family well.”
His eyes widened, and his shoulders straightened. But his mouth didn’t pinch, and the usual sight of his anger didn’t blast me like flames from a dragon’s maw. No, if anything, he stunned me by actually smiling.
It had been so long since I saw that smile that I almost expected him to leap from the table, hand raised to slap me.
But he didn’t.
He smiled at me, and it was genuine.
Which was terrifying.
I felt my stomach start churning with nausea as I recognized the precariousness of my situation.
I’d pleased him. Pleasing him was always short-lived.
My 4.0 GPA, the scholarship to NYU, the high grades, and the accolades I’d already started to accrue in my Urban Design and Architecture Studies course—none of those things had earned me a smile.
Thisdid.
