feet. Dad simply called the housekeeper to clean it up and walked off amid my shouts for an explanation.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“We’re doing it for you,” a deep voice replied. “So that you’ll always be taken care of.”
I ran to him, skirting my mother and throwing myself in his arms. “I can take care of myself, Dad.” I didn’t consciously put on a little girl’s voice. It just happened around him because that’s what I was in his eyes. His little girl to be loved, adored, pampered, and denied nothing—until I turned eighteen apparently.
The man who left me on the terrace with a sore throat and shattered glass wasn’t my father. Even so, I hadn’t given up hope of reaching him. The dame couldn’t be swayed to wear autumn colors in springtime, let alone change her mind once she decided on a decision she thought best for me. But my father valued my happiness above all else.
I can make him understand.
“I don’t need a husband,” I told him. “Don’t want one either. Daddy, I got into design school. The director was impressed with my clothes. She says I have a future in fashion, and that’s the one I want. Designing my own line.”
“You can still attend your school, Belle. Completing college will be a part of the terms.” He kissed my forehead. “Does that set your mind at ease?”
Set my mind at ease? Are you listening to anything I’m saying?!
“No, Dad,” I forced out. “It doesn’t. I refuse to get married—arranged or otherwise. I’m meant to be a designer. Not sit in an empty mansion while the stranger I married is off banging his mistresses.”
“Belle,” Mom scolded. “I have told you about your language.”
I didn’t acknowledge her. “Dad, please. I’m not going. Tell me you understand.”
Dad gripped my forearms and pushed me away. The stiff set to his jaw and flashing blue eyes were features I was used to seeing when he barked orders at employees, never for me. “You are going and you’ll show your mother and me more respect while you’re at it.”
I stumbled back, gaping at him. “Why do you want to get rid of me? What did I do?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Belle,” he snapped. “This is not a punishment.”
“Forcing me into an arranged marriage is hardly a gift.”
Not a flicker of sympathy crossed his face. It was like he didn’t hear me, and he probably didn’t. The gulf between my father and me had been widening since they announced their plans. For all that he was standing right in front of me, my father was miles away.
“You can’t see it now, but we are thinking of you and your future,” he said. “You will have everything you deserve in this life, my girl.” He gestured toward the bed. “Now get dressed. We leave in an hour.” Dad turned to leave and paused mid-step. “It goes without saying that you’re to be on your best behavior tonight. We expect you to make a good impression.”
I watched them go—angry enough to run after them but too hurt to take another rejection.
“Oh, I’ll make a good impression,” I hissed.
If they refused to hear me when I speak, then I’ll have to try another way to get their attention.
PRESTON
“What are you doing with that?”
The server froze deer-in-headlights-style. In my opinion, he didn’t look frightened enough. Mom wasn’t an oncoming car. She was a sixty-foot tsunami and this guy another speck on the beach.
“Those are clearly desserts, and are you aware of when desserts are served?”
“I— They—”
“You’re standing here gaping at me while the whipped cream melts on your tray. Put that back in the fridge immediately and then take off your uniform and leave.”
“Please, ma’am,” he cried. “Don’t fire me. I need this job.”
I crossed the room, leaving the poor sap to his fate. My mother didn’t stand for flies in the ointment of her perfect life. She’d kill the insect and then track down his entire family and rip off their wings.
My hand closed over the knob—
“Preston? Preston, where do you think you’re going?” Peach-painted nails gripped my shoulders and towed me away. “Our guests will begin arriving any minute and you, my darling boy, are seated in the place of honor.”
I nearly tripped matching pace with her.
Incredible. I’ve got two feet and fifty pounds on the woman, and she can still lead me around like a kid in a stroller.
“Why go through this charade, Mother?” She prodded me up the stairs to the head table.