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I watch as she walks out of the club.
No words are said between us, but it also feels like a whole paragraph has been spoken at the same time.
It’s better she’s left, even though I wish I could have told her who I was. That I could have at least tried to tell her I’m not a monster. But aren’t I just that? I chose her to own. To keep for myself.
I chose her as my prize.
I should feel guilty about it, but I don’t.
Not in the fucking slightest.
I leave the club and head straight for Bryson Simon’s house. We need to have a little talk, just him and me. Then I’m going to do the same with Claire’s parents. A little chat between future in-laws. They need to know where I stand, and as my lips twitch into a smirk, I decide they also need to know wheretheystand.
ChapterTwo
CLAIRE
“It’s poofy,”I mutter as I stare at my reflection.
I said I didn’t give two shits about this dress, but now that I’m standing in front of the multidirectional mirror and can see my entire reflection… I think I do care. I turn my head. My mother’s eyes are wide, and she’s wearing a smile that tells me she loves it.
I hate it.
Maybe she just loves the fact that I hate it.
My sister presses her lips together, and I arch a brow in her direction. She shakes her head ever so slightly, just enough so my mom doesn’t see it. Shifting my attention over to the saleswoman, I shake my head.
“I’d like something… less,” I say.
“It’s gorgeous,” my mom snaps.
I open my mouth to argue with her because it is not gorgeous. It’s expensive. My mom is trying to get the most expensive dress to make an impression. Something she’s always done. It doesn’t matter if it’s ugly or pretty. It doesn’t matter if she likes it or hates it. As long as it’s the most expensive thing available, she acts like she loves it.
“I have a few things in mind that would look absolutely stunning on Claire’s figure. Maybe we can try those on so she can get a better feel?” the saleswoman murmurs.
“Fine,” my mother grunts, crossing her arms just below her chest.
I almost roll my eyes at her childish behavior but decide against it. I don’t need another slap, at least for now. Inwardly, I roll my eyes back as far as I possibly can. I suck in a breath and let it out slowly, grabbing hold of the poofy skirt and following behind the saleswoman.
She guides me back into the dressing room, then turns toward me, her eyes finding mine. “What doyouwant?” she asks, emphasizing the wordyou.
“Something sleek and plain,” I reply. “Something that isn’t flashy. My mom is flashy, not me.”
“So no rhinestones?” Her gaze slides down my dress, which is encrusted with what feels like millions of rhinestones, judging by how heavy it is.
“No rhinestones, no pearls. I don’t hate lace, but I would like something stylish.”
She nods her head, her gaze sliding down to my legs. “And your skirt style?” she asks.
“Notpoofy,” I mutter.
She gives me a wink, then slips out of the room without saying another word. I take the poofy dress off, letting out a frustrated sigh as I do. I hate the dress. I hate the whole thing. I’m sick of people asking me if I’m excited because I’m not. Who would be excited to be a lamb being led to slaughter?
I don’t know this man.
I’ve never met this man, and I’m being forced to marry him to pay off some debt my father selfishly incurred. I’ve thought about running away a million times, but I don’t know how to hide from my father’s casino security or my new soon-to-be-husband and whatever type of men he has.
Shifting my attention to the mirror, I take in my reflection. I look tired, stressed, and run down. I haven’t been sleeping well. This wedding is happening in just a few weeks, and I’m scared shitless of the hell I might be walking into.
