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“I do not want her. She’s been used, tainted. I want the virgin, the prize that is owed to me that I earned.”
Our dad smirks. He tilts his head to the side as if he finds this not only funny but also interesting. I find it humorous, though likely not for the same reason that he does. So, instead of laughing, I decide to watch and take notes because once Coleman is married off, I know he’ll be looking to me next.
“Seems as though you’re a man after my own heart. So, you do not love this one. I made a very good case for you with the father,” he murmurs.
“I do not want her for my wife—formine.”
“Then you will not have her, but you will choose a wife. It is time. You will be thirty in six months’ time.”
“And when I’m thirty?” Coleman asks.
Dad laughs softly. “You’ll be declared an executive. It’s time. Fifteen years in the family earns you something, and you’ve more than paid your dues and earned your place. You’ve passed all the tests and the levels.”
Executive.
Five years.
I have five years until I am in Coleman’s position. Which means I’ll need to find a wife, settle, and then I can be an executive. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I should be excited, but part of me is anxious at the same time.
I want that, though. To be an executive. To have a wife that is mine, a woman to call my own, who is wholly and solely for myself and only myself. I don’t care what kind of person that makes me sound like. The fuck of it is I am likely that exact person anyway.
I am part of the family, a high-ranking member, and I was promised a virgin wife to call my own. And much like Coleman, I expect that. There will be no other way around it. I am owed what I am owed, and I plan on cashing in when the time comes.
Happily.
PARKER
Allison’s knockon my door is unmistakable. I know it’s her as sure as I know that I don’t want to go. Smoothing my palms down the front of my dress, I grab my purse and let out a heavy sigh. I shouldn’t be so annoyed, but I wanted to stay in my chair and not move all weekend.
Making my way toward the door, I hear my heels click against the marble flooring and reach for the doorknob. I still can’t believe I have this condo. It’s so fancy, too fancy for me, but I love everything about it, and it’s paid off.
Twisting the handle, I open the door and plaster on a smile. Allison rolls her eyes. “This isn’t torture. We’re going to have fun,” she states.
She can read me in seconds, which should be annoying as hell, but it’s not. At least not usually. Tonight’s not going to be fun, and it might be actual torture. I know it is. There’s no other way around it. I don’t want to go to some club where people are going to be dancing, touching, bumping, and grinding…everywhere.
“Let’s just go,” I mutter.
Allison rolls her eyes again. I reach for my purse on the side table, then move through the door and into the hall. Turning, I lock my door behind me.
My building is extremely safe, and half of the people who live here don’t even lock their doors, but considering my anxiety and nightmares about someone watching over me while I sleep, I always lock my door. Always.
“Tell me about your appointment today. Did you go into the building?”
Nodding once, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and scrape it across to find some dead skin, but there is nothing. I think about telling her absolutely nothing, but I know that if I ignore the question, she’ll just continue to ask me over and over.
There’s no ignoring Allison.
“I made it into her office. I told her about the dream.” I say the words, and all seems good.
I’m sure I should go into detail about the session. She no doubt wants to hear it all, but I’m not going to say a word. It’s true that Allison knows all the same information as I do. She has been over more than once to pick me up off the floor after sinking down in a fit of rage, emotional crying, or whatever the case may be. She’s always been just a second away.
I realize I’m not a good friend to her. Not like she is to me. I stop in my tracks. We’re just a few steps from the exit, but I turn to Allison. Slowly, she faces me, her gaze searching my own as I whisper.
“I’m a terrible friend,” I exhale. “I’m always focused on my own neuroses, and I’ve yet to ask about your man situation, about your life right now.” Allison reaches for my hand, squeezing It gently.
“There is nothing to apologize for. Do you think I don’t know exactly who you are? Don’t you think that if I had an emergency, I know I could call you and you would drop everything to help me?”
My lips curve into a small smile. “You know I would,” I reply.
