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She had chosen this dress because it was the fashion at the exact moment I was being married. It would be out of date by tonight.
At least I hoped that was why she had forced me to wear this hideous thing.
She calmly set down her champagne glass then grabbed my arm. Her acrylic talons dug into my flesh hard enough that tears sprang to my eyes, and I had to bite back a cry of pain.
“Do not forget your place. You are an Astrid. This is clearly your fault. You flaunted yourself like a whore in front of Manwarring, and now he must have his little promiscuous slut on his arm.” She leaned further forward, the pearls at her neck clacking and rattling.
“I didn’t.” Per usual, my words fell on deaf ears.
She dug her nails in harder as I tried to pull back my arm.
“There is no other reason he would want a woman like you, so uncouth. God knows, I tried to make a proper lady out of you, but your father had to let you go to that filthy school with all those common people. It’s a wonder you didn’t come back pregnant, addicted to drugs, and with an incurable venereal disease.”
I ground my teeth and tried to hold back the words on the tip of my tongue.
It didn’t matter that I was as pure as the driven snow.
Hell, the asshole who had just ruined my wedding had stolen my first kiss.
It didn’t matter that I was proud of my art history degree from NYU and that it was one of the hardest programs to get into. She would hear none of it anyway, so I bit my tongue and took her verbal abuse.
If I stayed quiet, maybe she would finish the bottle and drink herself into a stupor.
Standing up for myself made her violent.
There were only so many ways to cover bruises in the New York summer heat.
“You’re right, Mother.”
The anger that had been building inside me since Manwarring stood up finally boiled over. “I am a prostitute. You made me one the second you sold me off to the highest bidder. That’s my role in this family. To be whored out for the financial benefit of the Astrid name. Don’t you dare look down on me for being what you demanded of me!”
I ripped the rest of the delicate lace from my neck.
Finally able to breathe, I met my mother’s gaze.
Her eyes were filled with anger, her pearls rattling like a snake about to strike. This time, her lips managed to twist into a scowl, probably ruining the Botox she had injected the other day so she could outshine me at my wedding. I would be blamed for that as well once she noticed.
Did she not know how transparent her vain attempts were?
“How dare you,” she started. “Do you know what I have sacrificed for you, to raise you?”
“The hours you spent slaving over the pictures of nannies until you found one that you felt was ugly enough not to tempt Daddy, but pretty enough you could stand looking at?” I bit back. “It must have been harrowing.”
“I don’t know what has gotten into you.” She grabbed my arm again, sinking those razor-sharp claws into my skin hard enough that I’d have to wear long sleeves for the next few days. “But you do not speak to me like that. I will not be spoken to like that by anyone, let alone some little slut who just embarrassed our family.” Her nails sank in deeper, and I had to bite back a cry of pain.
“Let go of me!” I tried to pull my arm back, but she was strong.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to marry Mr. Manwarring. We are going to spin it like a star-crossed lovers’ romance of the century. The papers will eat it up.”
“No!” I wrenched on my arm again.
When she finally unhooked her claws, I fell into the side of the limo and struck my head on the window. My vision blurred for a moment, making my head spin.
“If you mess this up, it’s not me that you will be hurting. You will take your brother down with you. Is that what you want?”
“How will who I marry impact the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office?”
Her words had taken a lot of the power from my rage.
