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When Less’s arms circle me, I feel my heart skip a beat, and I freeze.
I rush out of the embrace as fast as I can, choosing to squeeze his parents instead.
They’ve always been lovely to me. Proper, a little distant, but never unkind. And for some reason, they chose me for their heir. The fact that it ended up being the worst thing that ever happened to me doesn’t change their kindness.
Next comes the present. I’ve already got the car from my parents—though it won’t be delivered for a few weeks as we customized it. I need to get my license anyway. But the Valmonts happily hand me a lovely box. When I open it, I find the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen: a diadem with sparkly things that are likely to be actual diamonds.
I could faint.
“It’s a family heirloom,” Lady Valmont says. “From my side of the family.”
I’ve always gotten extravagant gifts from the duke and his wife, but this takes the cake.
Royal jewels.
“You shouldn’t have. I can’t possibly accept—” my voice breaks.
The duke refuses to discuss it. “Hush, now. We’re family.”
My heart is thumping so hard I hear it in my eardrums, and I feel lightheaded. Breathing gets harder.
I genuinely would have thought it impossible to be any more overwhelmed, but just then, Less steps in, handing me a box, with his million-dollar, camera-ready, golden prince smile.
I can’t help but think back to the moment when he smiled at me earlier today. It was nothing like this fake, hypocritical, beautiful lie.
His first smile, the honest one, had been because he was seeing me suffer.
I don’t move to take the box.
“That’s new.”
Usually, the Valmonts offer me one present, and that’s it. I already got the fucking royal diadem.
“It’s not much,” Less says, taking my hand, limp at my side, and entrusting the gift to me whether I want it or not. “But I saw it and thought about you.”
Is it a slug he could crush under his shoe?
I make myself undo the gold ribbon. Inside the black box lies a delicate pin, in the shape of a leaf, with several tiny flowers bearing tons of tiny white stones, exploding like fireworks.
Poison Ivy.
I clear my throat.
After the engagement, the duke did offer us etiquette classes, to help know how to act in public. It was only a quick course that many kids in my school took that summer, but I’ve used its lessons many times, when random strangers accosted me to ask what it was like to be engaged with a future duke.
Proper. Polite. Polished.
I parrot my answer like he’s one of those journalists or nosy grandmas at the mall. I even manage an automatic smile.
“It’s very pretty, thank you, Alessandro.”
While his own mask never falls, I catch a change in his gaze, a slight curve in his eyebrows—not quite a frown, but close to it.
“You wear a lot of pins,” he says, like he’s explaining his choice, I guess.
“Yes,” I reply, not really capable of adding anything else.
Thankfully, my sister’s next, with a purple lipstick and some mangas. I hug her enthusiastically. “I meant to read those! Mrs. Bellerive doesn’t want to order more because no one else is into it.”
