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I didn't even glance at Anton, just nodded and hugged my mother. Thin bones poked through papery skin, and I closed my eyes.
*
Dinner was an awkward affair, but at least Anton didn't make any moves on me. Instead of being all over me, like I'd feared, he was distant and cold, clearly unhappy with this turn of events. I tried to laugh and look happy in case anyone was taking pictures of us, my mother spent half the meal berating me and the other half planning the wedding, and my father stared down at his steak and was uncharacteristically quiet.
When at last we returned to the mansion, I realized I hadn't even tasted the food I'd eaten. I couldn't even remember what I'd ordered. So much for living the high life.
To my everlasting dread, my mother fell asleep in the car on the way home—another reminder of her illness. I observed her in the light of the passing lampposts and bright marquees until we reached the house. My father woke her gently and together they went up the stairs to the third-floor bedroom. The bedroom I'd claimed as my own was on the fourth floor, and of course Anton's bedroom was on the top. I told my parents good night, and then followed Anton's silent back up the stairs to the fourth floor. When we reached it, I wavered.
Exhaustion overwhelmed me. Tension I didn't even know I was carrying curled into hard knots in my legs, and I could barely keep myself standing as I lingered on the landing, full of uncertainty. Should I go to my room? Did Anton even want to see me?
At the foot of the stairs, Anton turned and regarded me.
"This was an unexpected night," he said. His voice was level and even, but I heard a tight note under it. He was not happy. Not happy at all.
I licked my lips. "I'm sorry," I said. "I couldn't kick my parents out. My mom..." I trailed off. "She's sick. She's the reason I married you to help my dad."
He quirked a brow. "Sick?" he said.
"Cancer," I clarified. "I can't believe she flew out here." I shook my head. "She's really angry with me..."
He held up a hand. "Stop. I don't care. I wanted a wife, not her family."
For such a rich, handsome, sexually experienced douchebag, Anton really was kind of dumb when it came to interpersonal relationships. "Well, I hate to tell you this, but that's how it works. You marry a woman, her family comes along for the ride."
"Literally," he said sourly.
I shrugged. "They'll be gone after the wedding. Which, if mom has her way, is going to be in two months." Jesus. That'd be the end of December. Who got married at the end of December? People wanting a tax write-off, maybe.
"They aren't staying here for two months," Anton said, his face hard. "They are allowed to stay here tonight, and tomorrow they must leave."
I stared at him. "Christ, Anton. My mom has cancer. You're going to kick her out?"
His mouth tightened. "I think she might be more comfortable in a hotel. With an elevator and such. I will pay for it, of course."
I rubbed a hand over my face. "Wow."
"You do not have to like it," he said. "You simply have to make it happen."
Right. Like I could make my mom do anything. I'd never been good at getting my parents to listen to me. "I'll try," I said.
He reached out and ran a finger over my jaw. "You don't want to know what will happen if you do not."
Angrily, I pulled back. A threat? "Excuse me, but just because I fuck you like I'm your slave doesn't mean I am your slave." He didn't legally buy me, after all.
He stilled. For the first time, true fear went through me. I didn't know him at all. I didn't know what he was capable of. I didn't want to know. He did scare me. He did make me nervous.
And I couldn't do anything about it. On the floor below, my mother lay, sick in bed, and I was here, bound to this man, for good or for ill.
Slowly, Anton withdrew. "You will join me tonight, Felicia," he said. "Come." And he started back down the stairs.
On trembling legs, I followed him. I had no idea what he had in store for me, and part of me hoped he was only going to march to my parents room and demand they leave. But instead he kept descending, until we were on the ground floor again. Silently, he turned to the back of the house and strode smoothly to the back door where the house emptied out into the garden. Opening it, he stood aside and waved me through.
Heart in my throat, I passed him and walked out onto the patio. Cold autumn air hit me. I wore the little black dress Sadie and I had picked out, and while it was ideal for a lovely evening out on the town with my parents and new husband, it was not suited for the chilly night.
Behind me, Anton stepped out onto the terrace and closed the door behind him. It shut with a click that made my legs tremble.
His feet scraped over the concrete tiles, grinding the grit into the ground as he approached me from behind.
