I take them from her, my eyes widening when I realize that these are brand catalogues — mostly hers.
“I’m the official Windsor stylist,” she says, grinning as she takes a bite of another cookie. “As you’ll soon learn, we try to keep most things in the family rather than relying on anyone else, so I dress all of us. I’m here to find out what you like. I’ve got a pretty good idea based on the last few times I saw you, but I wanted to check in anyway and make sure you chose a few of your favorite pieces.”
I blink in confusion. “You mean you won’t just choose for me?”
She hesitates and nods. “Is that what your previous stylist did?” she asks, her voice soft, cautious. “Did they pick your clothes without any input from you?”
I freeze, suddenly unsure of how to answer her. She seems to notice my discomfort, because she starts to flick through one of the magazines and hands it to me.
“How do you feel about a casual style like that?” she asks, showing me a girl dressed in dark jeans and a cute emerald top.
“I can wear jeans if I want to?” I ask without thinking.
Something flashes in Raven’s eyes, and when she smiles at me again, it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You’re a Windsor,” she says as she begins to take notes. “You can wear whatever you want, Faye. You could leave the house in a garbage bag with a hole cut out for your head, and The Herald will praise you for setting a new affordable fashion standard.” She grits her teeth then. “Or they’ll tear you apart for some kind of fabricated reason that’ll increase their advertising revenue and clicks. They’re good at that.”
I tense, remembering the articles they wrote about her, and the way they incited people to turn against her and her brand. She runs a hand through her hair and shakes her head.
“I never got to thank you properly,” I murmur, changing the subject. “For my wedding dress.”
She smiles at me sweetly. “It was my pleasure. You looked truly radiant, and Dion couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way he carried you out of the reception hall was the stuff of fairytales.”
Her cheeks becoming a little rosy, and I can’t help but blush alongside her as I think back to our wedding night. I guess that was when I’d begun to trust Dion — when he gave me pleasure instead of pain, despite his blazing anger.
“How did you know?” I ask carefully.
Raven’s eyes roam over my face, and she does that thing that’s always made me feel unsettled around her. She looks at me as though my secrets are written all over my face.
“One day I had to review the boutique’s security footage because I’d lost my bracelet, and I saw you staring at that dress.” Her tone is careful, and she hesitates for a moment. “Something about the way you looked didn’t sit well with me, so I reviewed the security footage of all your visits. Each time, you stared at that dress in awe, but you never even asked to try it on.”
I tense, suddenly feeling vulnerable. It never even occurred to me there were cameras in her boutique.
“Faye,” she says, her voice soft. “My security system is very comprehensive, and it includes sound. I wasn’t comfortable with how dismissive your stepmother and half-sisters were of you, or the way they spoke of you when you weren’t in the room. It reminded me a little of the way my mother and sister always treated me. It’s why I asked them to leave on your wedding day.”
I stare at her, hearing the careful warning she’s trying to give me. My first instinct is to stand up for my family, even though I know she’s right. I’ve always pretended not to notice, but I’m aware of their snide remarks when they think I’m not listening — the jealousy related to my piano career and my arranged marriage to Dion. They’re all I have, so I’ve always dismissed it, but I’m not sure how to defend them in the face of a woman who looks like she genuinely understands my pain.
Before I have a chance to find the right words to say, Raven begins to show me a variety of other outfits, endless questions pouring out of her mouth. Gracefully and compassionately, she gives me an out instead of forcing me to acknowledge something that clearly matters to her.
“Accosting my wife, are you, Rave?”
We both look up to find Dion walking into the living room, an indulgent smile on his face. He glances at me, his gaze lingering.
I rise to my feet, and he walks up to me, his arm wrapping around my waist naturally as he leans down to press a kiss on top of my head.
He’s been so careful and gentle with me since he found me seated behind his piano with bloodied fingers, and I’m beyond grateful for it. I felt so lost when I realized that getting married hadn’t changed anything at all, but he held me together in a way I’d never expected of him. At each turn, Dion continues to surprise me. I thought he’d demand answers, but all he gave me was silent and unwavering support. It’s more than I deserve.
“You’re home early,” I murmur. My face heats when I see Raven beaming up at us from the sofa, but Dion simply ignores her gleeful stares.
He nods and pulls me closer. “Something came up at work, so I have to go back to London for a few days. I thought maybe we could go together.”
I look at him in surprise, my heart warming. I thought he’d use his work trips to get some space from me. “I’ve never been,” I tell him. “I’d love to join you.”
My excitement dims as an unwanted thought springs to the forefront of my mind. This time, Father won’t be able to blame me for Dion’s absence, since I’ll be with him.
My stomach twists, and I avert my gaze as my father’s words resound through my head. You need to get pregnant, Faye. Once you two have a child, he’ll never be able to leave you. You useless, spineless, disgusting little thing.
“Faye?”
I look up to find both Raven and Dion staring at me with hints of concern in their eyes. He’s been looking at me that way more and more frequently since that night a few weeks ago, when he came home from Canada earlier than I’d expected.
It’s becoming harder to fake it in his presence when I so desperately crave moments of genuineness with him. I’m tired of playing the role my father wrote for me, and the only times I get to be myself is when I’m in his arms.
Even that is tainted now.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Faye
“I’ve been trying to get you to smile like that for weeks,” Dion tells me as we park on the tarmac, right at the entrance of a large black private jet with the Windsor crest on it in gold. “If I’d known taking you on a trip would do it, I’d have carried you onto a plane every single day.”
My eyes widen in horror on his behalf, and he chuckles. “Don’t even joke about it,” I murmur. “I’d hate to see you suffering every day.”
His gaze roams over my face, searching. “You care about me, huh?”
I frown at him. “Of course, Dion. You’re my husband.”
His eyes flash, and he leans in, his lips brushing against mine. “That’s the first time you’ve called me your husband,” he murmurs, before kissing me slowly, softly. His hand moves to my face, and he cups my cheek gently as he tears his lips off mine. “You act like my wife in bed, but not outside of it,” he adds, his tone somewhat bitter. “Our conversations are still overly polite and distant. You won’t let me in.”
I tense, startled. “I… I didn’t…”
I didn’t think that’s something you’d want.
If I let you in, you wouldn’t like what you’d find.
You haven’t let me in either.
I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say. I know what it is he truly wants to know, of course. He’s been wondering why I played until I bled, but there’s no way for me to explain that to him. How do I tell him that being ordered to manipulate him into staying married to me tainted everything I thought we could’ve had together? How do I tell him that I’d thought my marriage to him was a blessing in disguise, only to find out my father never intended to let me leave his clutches? I’ve never felt so hopeless before. I’ll never be free, not truly, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “We don’t have much time left before takeoff.”
Dion offers me his hand as we walk up the steps to the plane, and with each step we take, he becomes more tense. It’s hard for me to fathom how he does this on a near weekly basis when it affects him so badly.
“This plane is much bigger than the last one we were on,” I murmur. “So hopefully it’ll be a smoother flight.”
He nods, his face a little paler than before. Maria is standing next to the pilot and falls silent mid-conversation when she notices me behind Dion, confusion flickering through her eyes before she forces a smile.