“Didn’t he tell you he was going to London for work? He’s neither in London, nor is he working,” Chloe says, her eyes blazing with excitement, as though she’s unraveled some kind of wild plot. “I thought it was so weird that he’d tell you he was leaving in person when he’s clearly never cared about you before, but it looks like it was just to throw you off his scent or something. He probably didn’t want you to suspect the truth.”
My hand trembles as I hand back her phone. It’s only a matter of time before my father sees these articles, and he’ll definitely blame me for Dion’s behavior. It had never actually occurred to me that his fears might not be unfounded. I never considered that Dion might have someone he loves too, that I might be standing in the way of his happiness.
My heart clenches painfully as a new kind of helplessness washes over me. He told me he was as much mine as I am his, and though I hadn’t been consciously aware of it, a small part of me foolishly believed him. He’d convinced me that at least to some degree, I’d been wrong about him. It should bring me relief to find out that his words were as empty as I thought them to be, but somehow, it just hurts.
For a single moment, he’d given me hope — hope that our future wouldn’t be filled with betrayal and me having to turn a blind eye. We might never have found love together, but I’d hoped that at the very least, there’d be honesty between us. It hurts to know I can’t even expect that much from him.
Abigail wordlessly raises her arm to adjust something on my dress, and her sleeve moves, revealing a blue bruise on her wrist. My heart drops at the sight of it, and my eyes meet her fear-filled ones.
I thought he’d stopped hurting her now the wedding date has been set. He seemed calmer lately, but was that only because the anger he usually reserves for me transferred to Abigail?
I’ve done my best to ensure he’s had nothing to complain about. I’ve kept quiet and played the extra concerts he planned in suddenly, despite the additional strain it’s put on my fingers and wrists. I’ve been extra careful with my replies each time the Windsors asked for my opinion on anything, because he told me he didn’t want me making any choices at all, and I’ve been reporting every single interaction with Grandma Anne back to him, like he ordered me to.
If that wasn’t enough, then what will he do to us when he sees the articles about Dion and Maria? “Are you sure money will change everything?” I ask, my voice soft.
Abigail’s head snaps up, and she looks into my eyes, seemingly caught off-guard. “Yes,” she says, but she no longer sounds as sure as she used to. “Of course it will.”
I hadn’t considered what might happen once I’m no longer around to bear the brunt of my father’s anger. Will it shift to Chloe? With Linda away at college, it’ll be just Abigail and Chloe in the house. I’m getting married to protect the girls, but what if my absence ends up harming them more? So far, he’s spared Linda and Chloe, but will that last?
Abigail continues to touch my dress aimlessly. “Just do this for me, please. I know it’ll change everything. You don’t remember how he used to be, but I do.” She takes a step back and raises her head to look at me. “Once our debts are paid off, I’ll put him in rehab. He’ll resist, I’m sure, but I know he loves me. The man he is now… that’s not really him. It’s the liquor that’s making him act that way. Deep down, he’s still a good man. He is. Besides, your marriage will pay for Linda and Chloe’s schooling, and it’ll open so many opportunities for all three of you. Just trust me, Faye. Everything will get better once you’re married.”
I nod, willing myself to believe her and failing. I’m well-acquainted with fear, yet I’ve never been more scared of the future than I am right now.
Chapter Nine
Dion
I park in front of Xavier’s warehouse and stare at my phone, overcome with an urge I’ve never had before. For years, I kept Faye off my mind easily, yet now I can’t go two seconds without thinking of her. Was it the vulnerability she showed me when she fell apart in my arms, or was it the defiance in her eyes as she bit down on my thumb? Maybe it was a little bit of both. Somewhere along the way, Faye broke something inside me, invading my carefully controlled thoughts whenever I least expected it, and she doesn’t even realize it.
I give in and call her, all the while refusing to analyze my need to hear her voice. She picks up almost instantly, her tone conveying her confusion. “Hi, this is Faye,” she says, clearly not recognizing my number.
I smirk and lean back in my seat, my head against the headrest. “Hi, this is your fiancé,” I reply, my tone amused.
Her breath hitches, and my cock jumps to attention. Those little gasps of hers drive me wild, and it’s fucking ridiculous, because I haven’t even kissed her yet. What is it about her that I find so endlessly fascinating? What is it that makes me unable to stay away when I had no problems doing so for years?
“D-Dion,” she stammers.
I chuckle, unable to help myself. I wish I could see her face right now. I should’ve video called her instead. It will be evening for her now, and I love the idea of watching her lying back in bed.
“You complained that I hadn’t given you my new number, so I thought I’d better rectify my mistake. Now that you have it, I expect you to use it.”
“Use it how?” she asks, her tone cautious. This is the exact tone she’s always taken with me, and now I know what she sounds like when she reveals her emotions, this falls flat in comparison. There’s so much distance between us, and I’m not sure how to eradicate it.
“You are aware of the uses of a phone number, are you not? And you’re acquainted with the functions of your phone?”
I hear a soft huff and smirk. Got her. “You want me to call you?” she asks, unable to fully hide her indignation. Fuck. I wish I could see her right now. I have no doubt her eyes would be blazing with poorly concealed irritation, just like in her dressing room, and it’d be a sight to behold.
“I’m not that fussy,” I tell her. “I’m fine with you texting me, too.”
“You’re… you’re not that fussy,” she repeats slowly, incredulous. I hum in agreement, enjoying messing with her. It’s crazy, but something about her makes me act unlike myself. I’m desperate to see more of the woman she tries to hide from the world. The version of her that she buried, that’s the one I want all to myself.
I know I shouldn’t dare crave her the way I do, but fuck, I’m weak. With only a few months until our wedding, I want to occupy every single thought, so there’s no space left for Eric. I’m done staying away from her. I made that mistake once — it won’t ever happen again. This marriage is inevitable, after all.
“Okay,” she says, resigned. “I’ll text you, if that’s what you want. Would you like me to send you updates on my daily activities?”
I frown, confused. What the fuck? I ask her to text me, and she instantly assumes that I want her to report shit to me? I suppose I had that coming — until recently, nearly all of our conversations were utilitarian. I’d made my displeasure with our engagement obvious, and now I’m paying for it.
For one single stupid moment, I think back to Lexington’s presentation. I didn’t think I’d actually have to steal her away from Eric, but what if he was right?
“That depends entirely on whether you intend to send me photographic updates of every shower you take,” I murmur, suddenly all the more eager to mess with her. Angering her wasn’t quite part of Lexington’s plan, but I’m starting to realize the only way she’ll let that mask slip is if I provoke her. “I’m also open to you sending me videos of various outfit choices for next week’s charity gala, especially if you keep the camera rolling while you change.”
She gasps, and I can just about imagine the outrage in her eyes. I reckon angry sex with Faye would be the highlight of my fucking life. Someday, I’m going to have to provoke her into riding my cock, her nails digging into my skin.
I doubt she showed Eric any of the venom coursing through her blood. She’d have shown him all the best parts of herself, never realizing how much freedom there is in not having to put up a pretense. I suppose that’s why I’m suddenly finding it so hard to stay away from her — because on that day at The Lacara, I recognized something in her that I never expected to find. Something dark, broken, and utterly perfect for me.
“You’re crazy,” she snaps. “Make that kind of request again and I’ll call your grandmother pretending not to understand what you meant. I’ll act dumb as she scrambles to excuse your words.”
There’s my girl and her pretty claws. I burst out laughing, I can’t help it. How did it take me so long to realize that everything she’s shown me throughout the years was a facade? She only has herself to blame for making me addicted to tearing that illusion down.
I can almost hear that haze of anger drain away as realization dawns. My darling fiancée isn’t used to speaking her mind, and it shows. I listen as she draws a shaky breath.