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And while I don’t consider myself to be a violent person and choose to pacify and de-escalate always, right now that’s all out the window when all I can taste is the bitter edge of betrayal. This is a hard pill to swallow, and had I brought my Glock, I would’ve shot my father.
Of that I have no doubt. Right between the eyes.
“I will not marry him.”
“You don’t have a choice!” Dad thunders. The tumbler with a few fingers’ worth of amber liquid flies past my head. It shatters upon impact, the picture frame it hit breaking too. “This isn’t up for negotiation, Aliana. You will marry Mr. Gaspar or else—”
“I’m already seeing someone.”
“Who?” the man asks, voice ice cold.
Before I can respond, the door is opened, and Kray walks inside. He doesn’t give either of them any attention, his sole focus on me, gun drawn. “You ready to go, Miss Rubens?”
“Who the fuck are you?” comes from the governor. That man is no longer my father.
Kray’s eyes turn hard; he’s now looking at my father. “Callum Jameson sends his regards.”
That’s it. That’s all he says before ushering me out while I avoid the two heated gazes on me.
They remain quiet. My guard’s words still hang heavy in the air.
Callum staked his claim.
“Tell me again why I’m going with you to look at bridesmaid dresses?” I ask London while her cousin snickers beside me. We’ve been to three stores today, and we haven’t stopped for food. They literally drag me from bed, stuff me in clothes, and make me try on dresses while my best friend’s newly found cousin picks one.
Mind you, I’m not in the wedding. I’ll be a guest, not because she didn’t ask me to be, but because they decided to keep the numbers very small; Mariah and Aurora for London, while Javier and Casper, even though my best friend doesn’t know this tiny detail.
Not like she’s shared info on him either.
“Because it’s easier to be objective on someone else’s body.” London walks around me, studying the red dress I’m in. It’s an empire waist with an off-the-shoulder neckline that ends just below the knee. Very form fitting and classy, but also plain. “I feel like we’re getting close, but no dice yet. Can you try the eggplant one next, please?”
My stomach is eating itself; I’m annoyed with her, but she’s too sweet to get mad at. Grumbling, I take off toward the changing room while they discuss something between them.
Reaching for the zipper on my right, I lower it and slip off the garment. The hanger is next, and I place everything neatly for the salesgirl when my phone rings with his tone. I’m quick to pick it up before they hear or ask, moving further back into the changing area.
This area is private; a large space where you normally have someone helping you change into their gowns, but with London’s selection being less extravagant, I’ve been given free reign. Which works, because he’s Facetiming me.
“Hello, love,” he says the moment I answer, that grin I love in place. Callum looks a bit tired, and I know it has to do with the new business venture the Jamesons are taking on. The last few weeks have been busy for him with extensive travel from London to Spain to Chicago, the latter for me. “Having fun?”
“No,” I pout, angling the camera so he can see how little I have on. I’m in a nude, strapless bra and tiny hipsters which leave my cheeks bare. “I’m hungry, sleepy, and ready to start the next season of our show.”
That’s another thing we’ve been doing since our time is limited at the moment—something that is wearing heavy on him and me.
I’m still here while he’s home, because that’s what London is to me now, and while he comes to see me as often as possible—at the least a day a week—I promised Aurora I wouldn’t leave yet. Not until after London’s wedding, since her mind is on Boston and her cousin will take over the Chicago office. At least, until Roe’s brother is older, and the kid wants to take over.
To me, it sounds like she’s avoiding.
She’s dodging Casper and his calls. His every attempt at communication.
“Fuck, Venus. This is a cruel punishment.”
“Would you prefer me taking the view away?”
“I’d rather saw my arm off than miss this.”
“That’s overdramatic.”
He shrugs, not the least bit embarrassed. “I stand by my truth.”
