Kiss Me in the Dark Anthology - Monica James Page 0,150

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I whisper.

Joshua Grayson takes the opportunity to knock on the open door, entering with the worst timing ever for the second time in one day.

“Augustus. Avery.” He nods to each of us in greeting, a smile stretching over his tanned face, a little dimple in one cheek that I’ve never noticed before. I wonder if our children will inherit that dimple. I wonder how quickly I could find a sharp object to stab into Joshua’s cheek, right into that fucking dimple, so I never have to look at his smug smile again. I tilt my head to the side, taking him in. He looks incredible, actually, in a dark navy suit, tailored impeccably, a pair of cufflinks with the Capulet family crest stamped into them at his wrists. That irritates the hell out of me. It’s like a buy-in of a stock portfolio. An acquisition. Buy the farm, drink all the milk you want for free. And I’m the cow, being fed up for the slaughter.

“Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before she walks down the aisle?” I snap, ignoring his attempt at cordial conversation. Really, I just want him to go away.

“I think that’s the wedding,” Joshua replies, nonplussed by my snark, looking like he stepped out of a men’s aftershave commercial.

I shrug. It’s all the same to me.

“I just came in to see how you’re holding up, Avery,” Joshua says. Jesus, he’d be the best salesman. If I didn’t loathe him so much, I’d melt into a puddle under his stare. Some people are just born with this charisma that pours off them wherever they go. My father had it, before Mom died, and he can still turn it on when business demands it. Adeline had it, too. She could sell you anything just by batting her eyelids. Me? Not so much. The terms standoffish and Ice Queen have been thrown my way more than once in my life.

“As well as can be expected,” I reply.

“Your dress is stunning,” he adds. “Fit for a queen.”

I smile icily. “Thank you. It belonged to my sister.” A lie, but whatever. I’m not going to let Joshua forget this business arrangement of his used to have a different Capulet sister attached.

“Avery,” Daddy says sharply.

Joshua lets the dead-sister-you-almost-married comment roll off him. I almost feel sorry for him. He’s waited a long time and invested a lot of energy and cash just to be married to a fucking bitch like me.

“I’m sure she’d say the same if she were here,” he says smoothly.

Daddy clears his throat. “Looks like Jennifer did a fabulous job, getting everything ready for the event.”

“Oh, we’re doing small talk now, are we?” I reply. “Are we going to pretend that Joshua didn’t hear that whole conversation in your office this morning? Because I didn’t get that memo. I should check my emails before we go out there.”

“Avery, for God’s sake,” my father says. “Come on, now. I had no way of knowing what my brother was going to say to you earlier. Don’t punish Joshua for Enzo’s big mouth.”

“Oh my God. It’s not even about that,” I fire back. “You betrayed me. You lied to me, and you didn’t even tell me. What kind of father does that to a sixteen-year-old girl? What kind of man goes along with such a thing?”

Joshua’s eyebrows rise slightly, and he puts his palms up in a supplicating gesture. “I’m going to leave you two to finish getting ready. Avery, you look lovely. I’ve scheduled all day tomorrow so we can meet up and talk about everything that’s on your mind. I’m not the villain, okay?”

I stare at him blankly, until my father steps toward me and wraps one arm around my shoulders in a suffocating hug that screams: behave.

“I’m busy tomorrow,” I reply. “What a shame.”

“Oh, that doctor’s appointment? Something about an IUD? I had my secretary talk to your assistant. It’s been rescheduled for next week.”

And then the smug motherfucker gives us both the most dazzling grin, complete with a wave, and closes the door behind him.

It’s happening again. My dress, which was a little loose before, is suddenly all too tight. It constricts me, pressing up against my ribs, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

“What the FUCK?” I seethe. I turn on my father. “I hate him,” I spit, gesturing wildly at the closed door. “I HATE him!”

I don’t even see the open palm coming at me. My face feels the