by Izzy Sweet
Fuck it.
After this fight, I’m going to her dad’s house and yanking her ass out of there. I can’t get arrested before a fight, but afterwards… Yeah, that’ll work...
Shit.
I feel almost fucking bipolar. Bouncing from resentment toward her to not giving a shit, she’s mine.
The more I row and feel the muscles in my body straining, the more me chasing her ass down sounds like a good idea. And if I get arrested? I’ve got enough money to make that shit disappear.
“She’s not getting away from us, Casey,” I say to him as I yank extra deep into the machine.
He’s breathing heavy and sweat drips off his forehead as he leans forward to take a mini-break. “No?”
“Nope, were going to go drag her ass back to where she belongs,” I say, and pull hard on the machine again.
“Aren’t there laws against kidnapping?” he asks seriously.
I pull off a shrug. “I’m hot and I have a shit ton of money, we’re good. I’ve also got connections.”
“Dude, that’s kinda creepy,” he says with a laugh.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, and slow my rowing down. “Ready for the bags? If we stay on this machine for too long, Dale is going to get suspicious.”
“Yep!” he says as he jumps up to follow me over to the bags.
“Alright, we’ll do fifty on each limb, then we’ll see if we can find some sparring partners. I need Brett to work on takedowns with me,” I say as I watch Dale heading straight for us with a face full of anger.
Thankfully we’re both beet red and sweaty as fuck. We haven’t been sitting idly by today.
“You two!” Dale growls as he stops in front of us. “What are you doing?”
“Bags, then sparring if I can get Brett to work on takedowns with me. He’s the closest to Jamey’s style of fighting,” I say, and keep hustling Casey past Dale.
“Good, I better not see you two resting today! Too many fucking calories are running through this gym. I don’t work in no fucking bakery!” Dale shouts at our backs.
Looking over at Casey as we reach the bags, I ask, “Did he just compare this place to a bakery?”
“Think we went too far?” he asks with a wince.
I shake my head. “Not yet. I want to order half a dozen pizzas around lunchtime under Bear’s name.”
His eyes go wide. “Oh god, please tell me we’re heading home by then.”
I slam my elbow into the bag. “Yeah, right when they’re supposed to get here.”
We go through a few repetitions before Casey stops and turns to face me. “Emmett?”
“Yeah?” I ask, wrapping my arms around the bag while I rest my sweaty forehead against it.
Without facing me, he asks, “How long will I be living with you?”
“College and beyond?” I answer immediately. I mean, who the fuck knows how long normal families have their kids living them? “You want to live with me?”
He doesn’t respond at first. Refocusing on the bag, he begins to go through his left arm punches.
The silence is killing me, but I don’t want to pressure him to say yes.
“Yeah, I do,” he finally says while punching the bag.
“Even if I’m a dick that makes you go to school and do your homework? A dick who makes you do your chores and shit? You get to be a normal kid too, but our house will have rules, and I’ll have to punish you if you break curfew or something,” I say, and hope he gets what I’m trying to say.
Casey sounds almost hopeful as he asks, “You mean like a normal life and family?”
All of a sudden, I feel domestic. “Fuck yeah. Like you’ll have dinners and we’ll have homework schedules.”
Casey starts to smile. “Yeah, I like the idea of that. I mean, I had that with grandma and grandpa, but…”
“You know I’ll be a hardass on ya if you fuck around, right? And you can’t just go back to them if you’re mad at me. We’re going to be a real family, Casey. Even if you don’t like me, you’ll be stuck with me.”
“What the fuck are you two gabbing about!” Dale bellows out behind us.
We both turn to face Dale, but I speak first. “We’re setting up house. He’s moving in full-time with me.”
“Oh,” Dale mutters. “Good, don’t slack off, dammit.”
Turning away from us, he marches over to the front desk. I swear I’ve never seen him do an about face that quick before…
Casey turns to me and says, “I love Grandma and Grandpa, but I need to do this for me. One thing though, and you have to swear on my dad to me.”
Fuck, whatever he’s about to ask me is serious.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“You can’t drink again, I mean it. Not a single drop. Not ever again.”
From the look on his face, it’s clear that he’s dead serious.
Fuck.
How the hell do I swear to that? If I do that, I’m swearing I’ll never slip up again. I’ll never fuck up again.
I’ll have to live life on the straight and narrow.
He’s asking me to not do something that some nights every single fiber in my being wants to do. He’s asking me to never again find the numbness in a bottle, to never again enter that state where my brain can quit thinking of all the bad shit.
“I promise on Tommy,” I say.
“Okay, we need to call Grandma and get the rest of my stuff. Also, can we get Netflix?” he asks.
My head wants to spin with how fucking easy that shit just went down, but fuck it. I need this as much as he does.
“Sure, and Casey? I think your dad would be happy with what we’re doing,” I say.
“Me too, Mom,” he says with a laugh before he starts kicking the bag again.
I’m going to kill the little shit, I swear to myself, and start kicking the bag too.
Chapter Eighteen
Bree
Two weeks.
It’s been two long, hellish weeks since my father essentially kidnapped me and blackmailed me. True to his word, once I agreed to submit to his demands, my father immediately brought me back to his house. After confiscating my phone for my own good, I was locked inside my room like a prisoner.
Completely cut off from the outside world.
Less than an hour later, I was forced to face Tristan and his smug, punchable face across a dining room table. Without any input from me, all the details of our impending engagement and marriage were ironed out between our two families.
And tonight, during the biggest political fundraiser of the year, it will be announced to the world.
“You look beautiful, Aubrey,” my stepmother, Valerie, says in her soft, throaty voice before she offers me a sweet smile.
She looks stunning herself in her shimmering white gown. Seated beside my father, she practically glows like an angel.
Failing to live up to the evil stepmother trope, Valerie has always been kind to me, and I’ve always wondered how a woman like her could marry a man like my father.
Did he have to blackmail her too in order to get his hands on her money?
“Thank you,” I murmur in response and manage to work up my own smile to offer in return.
Trapped once again in the back of my father’s limo, everything inside me is screaming for me to find a way to escape. To get out before it’s too late. My hand wants to reach for the door and my legs want to run for my life.
I want to run back into Emmett’s arms.
But I can’t. I can’t save myself. I have to see this through, for Casey.
“Yes… you do look beautiful,” my father agrees, glancing over at me.
My smile instantly tightens as his eyes meet my eyes.
“That little hunger strike of yours has done wonders for your figure. I’m sure Tristan will be relieved. You put on quite a bit of weight while you were away.”
Valerie visibly stiffens at my father’s little barb, but I keep smiling at him, not letting him get to me.
Over the past few days, locked up in isolation with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company, I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that no matter what I do or how hard I try, I’ll never be good enough for him.
I’ll never live up to his expectations.
And I’m okay with that. I’m okay because he no longer lives up to my expectations.
In fact, he’s fallen so far below them, there’s absolutely nothing he could do to redeem himself in my eyes.
Nothing he could do except for having a change of heart and calling off this farce. But that would require him to have a heart in the first place. And even if he did call this off now, the damage he’s already done…
Oh god, I can’t even think about it right now.
If I do, I’ll completely fucking break down.
After a couple of minutes, when I make no effort to respond, my father sniffs and glances away.
With his attention focused on his window, I force myself to relax and focus on getting through tonight.
Despite what he said, I haven’t gone on a hunger strike. Yes, I probably haven’t been eating as much as I should, and I have lost a little bit of weight, but it’s not done out of protest or self-punishment. I simply have no appetite after enduring that dinner with Tristan and his family.
How can I eat after what I’ve done? How can I eat when I have a lifetime of being stuck with Tristan waiting for me?
Besides the little looks of pity Valerie keeps sending my way, the rest of the car ride to the event is quiet, uneventful, and goes by too quickly.
I’m still not ready or prepared to face what’s to come when the limo slows then crawls to a stop.
My father’s door is opened for him and he turns to look at me.
“Aubrey,” he says ominously. Once he has my full attention, he gives me a hard, pointed look. “Do I need to remind you what’s at stake if things don’t go smoothly tonight?”
“No,” I answer coldly.
He doesn’t need to remind me that he’ll ruin a little boy’s life if I don’t behave and comply.
“Good.” He grins, showing his teeth.
After straightening his bowtie and jacket, he climbs out of the limo.
Once he’s gone, Valerie looks to me with an expression that’s somewhere between worry and compassion.
“Aubrey,” she says, using my name like my father, but with a touch of urgency.
My father’s hand appears as he reaches in for her.
Valerie glances quickly at my father’s hand then looks back to me.
“Make time for me tonight, before the announcement,” she says quietly then places her hand in my father’s and slips gracefully out the door.
I get less than a minute to wonder why she would ask that of me before my door opens and my father reaches back in. It takes every ounce of willpower I have inside me to put my hand in his and follow his tug.
Lights flash as soon as I gain my feet and instinctively I pull my lips up into a smile for the cameras. Slipping my mask of false happiness firmly in place as we follow the red carpet and make our way to entrance of the gala.
Once inside, I go through the motions, stuck by my father’s side as he makes his greetings. With no other option, I’m forced to play the role of his pretty doll. Meant to stay by his side to be seen and not heard.
After a while all the faces and names start to blend together, but no matter how much time passes I can’t relax. The hotel has gone all out, providing all the glitz and glamour you’d expect from such an upscale event, but the sparkling chandeliers, flowing champagne, and endless gourmet hors d'oeuvres are wasted on me.
I’d rather be anywhere else but here… Hell, I’d even take being locked in my room again if it meant I could avoid Tristan and what’s about to happen.
As if just thinking his name has conjured him, Tristan appears in front of me with a small group of his friends.
“Ah, there you are, Tristan.” My father grins. “I was wondering when you’d stop by and take Aubrey off my hands.”
Tristan chuckles and looks me up and down as if he’s inspecting me. Inspecting me like I’m something he wants to buy.
But that’s exactly what he’s done, isn’t it? He’s bought me from my father.
My skin starts to crawl before he even touches me. Moving to my side, his hand latches onto my elbow and he pulls me to him.
“I was a little delayed,” he says, staring down at me, “but I’m here now.”
Meeting his eyes, I feel all the hate I have for him rising to the surface, ready to boil over. Hating his touch, hating his skin against my skin, I jerk my elbow, no longer caring about appearances or what people will think.
He must have anticipated the move though. I almost free myself but his fingers sink down at the last second, digging through skin to find bone.
“You look stunning tonight, Aubrey,” he says over my little gasp then his face lights up, eyes gleaming with pleasure. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”
Spencer, the same jerk that was with Tristan when he came to the gym, starts to snicker.
Tristan shoots him a dark look and his grip on my elbow loosens just enough for me to pull myself free.
Tristan jerks his attention back to me, but I step back, out of his reach, before he can grab me again without truly looking like an asshole.
“Excuse me, I need the powder room,” I grit out between my teeth and turn on my heel, walking off before anyone can stop me.
With tears of anger burning in my eyes, I push through the crowd, my feet carrying me to the door.
I thought I could do this, I thought I was strong enough to survive this shit without breaking, but thirty seconds in Tristan’s presence has proven that was a lie.
I can’t marry Tristan. Not only because he’s the biggest entitled jerkface to ever walk this earth, but because I’m in love with Emmett.
God help me, I love him and Casey both. And I want to protect them, I do, but there has to be another way out of this…
There has to be.
I just don’t know what it is.
My thoughts consumed with despair, despair over what’s going to happen to Casey now that I’ve failed him, I’m barely paying attention to where I’m going. I get turned around at least two times trying to fight the direction of the crowd.
Everyone is coming in when all I want to do is get out.
When I finally manage to get myself going in the right direction again, someone touches my arm and says my name.
“Bree.”
After what I just went through with Tristan, my body’s immediate reaction is to yank my arm back.
“Oh my god, what’s wrong with you?” Ashley gasps at me in surprise. “God, you’re such a basket case.”
I blink at her, wondering if my luck has completely gone to shit and she’s real.
She makes an exasperated noise and rolls her eyes. “I really don’t see what Tristan sees in you.”
Having neither the time or patience to suffer her right now, I agree and start moving forward again. “I don’t either.”
Momentarily stunned by my response, she just stares at me as I move away, but then she rushes to catch up and grabs my arm to stop me.
Fuck, I’m really sick of people grabbing me tonight.
I stop and look down at her hand then up to her face.
“What do you want, Ashley?” I ask impatiently.
Ashley blinks at me, exactly like I did at her, then she shakes her head, dark curls bouncing around her face.
Smokey eyes narrowing and sharpening as if she’s trying to intimidate me, she says, “I just wanted to let you know that you marrying Tristan doesn’t change anything. We’re still going to be together.”
I roll my eyes to the heavens, wondering what on earth I did to deserve this, and then sigh. “That’s good to know.”
Shaking off her hand, I start to walk off again.
I’m beyond caring about her and Tristan. A few weeks a
go, what she said probably would have hurt me. It did hurt me to find the two of them in bed together. But it didn’t hurt because I was in love and they betrayed me. No, it hurt because they showed me the truth.
The truth that I truly had no friends in this world.
Ashley gasps behind me, but before I make any significant progress toward the door, her damn hand is on me again.
I turn back, ready to tell her off for stopping me, when she finally says something that actually surprises me. “He fucked me tonight. He fucked me in the limo on the way here.”
Her eyes search my eyes, desperately seeking the reaction she wants. Its so clear, so out in the open, I feel the tiniest bit of pity for her.
Only the tiniest bit.
At my surprise, a smile starts to unfurl across her glossy, overly plump lips. “We’ve been fucking for the past three years.”
I suspected as much. But I’ve been hurt by so many other things recently, learning this doesn’t even register on my pain meter.
What I am curious about though is why they would do it. Why go through all the trouble?
“He loves me. He’ll never love you,” she goes on, a touch of desperation entering her voice. “You can get your daddy to make him marry you, but he’ll always be mine.”
“What?” I ask, truly confused now.
Eyes flashing with anger, she hisses, “Don’t play stupid. You can try all you want to keep us apart, but he’ll never be yours. Never. I’m not giving him up.”
Oh my god. She truly believes I’m the one pushing for this marriage.
Tristan must have told her that…
Jesus.
He’s a bigger bastard than I ever gave him credit for.
But Ashley’s not completely innocent in this. She didn’t have to carry on behind my back with him, she could have come clean sooner. And even if I give her the benefit of the doubt, even if she was afraid to tell me, she was still complicit in trying to hurt me.
This whole conversation is proof enough of that.
I can’t even begin to understand what kind of sick, fucked up relationship they have, but I do understand one thing out of all of this.
