29. Misty
There’san eeriness to the hall while Damon stands in front of the podium and makes his speech. He’d let me read it in advance, after I insisted as his PR manager it is something I need to review. He’d handed it over with a knowing smile that had the hair rising on the back of my neck. It didn’t take long to realize why he’d looked so smug. There wasn’t a single word out of place in his document. It was the perfect level of serious and lighthearted to capture anyone’s attention. Because of course he knows how to write his own speeches. He’s probably been giving them since he was a kid.
There’s an older gentleman watching him with rapt attention, tall and lanky but impeccably dressed, without a single hair out of place. I can just make out a silver pin attached to his lapel under where his palm is resting. Come to think of it, it’s a super-odd position to be in. He’s standing ramrod straight, at perfect attention, as he listens to Damon go on about airplanes and the future.
I swear, if I were anywhere else, I’d think he was in the military, listening to his commanders or whatever they’re called. Definitely not a member of society’s elite. A quick scan of the room reveals every man is in a nearly identical stance—back straight, chin forward, and one arm crossed over their chest.
Chills roll through me. It’s like I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone or, better yet, some kind of yuppie cult. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were treating Damon like a leader instead of a peer.
The loud smack of clapping snaps me out of my rambling thoughts as Damon closes off his speech. His eyes dance over the crowd until they meet mine, and he lifts one brow at me in question.
I can’t even begin to process my thoughts right now. I clearly need some sleep because the idea of some underground world where people worship my husband is freaking ridiculous.
“It’s lovely to finally meet you.”
I turn sharply to face an older gentleman. I instantly recognize him from the event Mia, Piper, and their guys went to weeks ago. The one where I’d somehow found myself face-to-face with Damon in an alley. I ignore the knot in my stomach at the raised memory.
“It’s an honor, Mr. Everette.”
“The honor’s all mine,” Damon’s grandfather says with a warm smile. “You look lovely this evening.”
“You are way nicer than I thought you’d be.” The words are out before I can stop them, and I instantly wish I could reverse time and take them back.
His smile widens. “Oh? And how did you think I would be?”
Freaking shit.I twitch uncomfortably, but he just stands there calmly, waiting for my answer.
I blow out a slow breath, praying that this doesn’t somehow get back to Damon. “Sorry…I just meant…well…after your speech at the last event, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be around people much.”
He tilts his head slightly, and I swear a dimple appears in his cheek. It’s clear he’s exactly who Damon gets his looks from.
“You, my dear, are different though. You are part of our family, aren’t you?”
Of course he knows—that was the entire point—but something in the way he asks the question has me wanting to apologize for God knows what.
I lower my voice to barely above a whisper. “Yes, of course.”
He looks at Damon, who’s now staring at us.
The old man returns his attention to me and raises one brow in an identical look to his grandson. “So tell me, why the secrecy?”
Freezing, I take a shallow breath and try to gather my thoughts as his question tries to scramble them. I can’t very well tell him we’re keeping it a secret because I don’t want people to judge me when Damon and I get divorced.
“I work for him. I don’t want our relationship to sway people’s opinions of me. It’s already hard enough to be a woman in sports.” I push the words out at rapid speed. They feel hollow at best, like a story I removed every other line out of.
He gives me a disbelieving look, and I cut him off, asking him the question I’ve been dying to know.
“Why force your grandsons to get married? Isn’t that a bit antiquated?”
He’s kind enough to ignore my rudeness completely. “Family is rooted in tradition. It’s there for a reason. Without it, everything would be chaos.” He points toward several men standing in a semicircle around Damon, who keeps glancing our way, concern growing in his features.
“Each one of those men is the head of their multigenerational household, but look closer.”
I examine them more. Each one of them is wearing the identical silver pin I saw earlier on their lapel. I bite my lip as I concentrate on them more. I jolt at the realization that their heads are slightly lowered to Damon. As if they’re bowing.
“What do you see?” he asks.
“I think…are they bowing?”
“Smart girl. Our society is old, and our customs are deeply ingrained. Each one of these families is part of the hierarchy. A different rung on a ladder.” He points toward the group again, and that’s when I see another row standing behind the men speaking with Damon. Then another row behind them. They’re concealed by their chatting wives, but once I spot them, I can’t unsee it.
“When you say society…you don’t mean just the social construct, do you?”
He doesn’t bother to answer. “Tradition fosters power. If you want to lead, you must first prove yourself as someone to respect. Now, there are many ways in which that can be accomplished. Many have tried to earn it with bloodshed.”
Mr. Everette turns to me with cold eyes. “They did not walk away from the attempt.”
My skin prickles. Did he just allude to people killing each other?
“And Damon getting married solves that issue?”
He gives me a long look. “We’ll have to see.”
“Okay, but sleeping in the same bed rule. Is that really a necessary part of your tradition?” I ask.
His mouth twitches up in the corner. “I can’t say much about that rule, to be honest.”
I give up on that line of questioning and ask what I really want to know. “And your grandsons just do whatever you ask?”
That’s the part that never sat well with me. Even the idea of Damon following blind orders is laughable.
“The Everette family has been at the top of society for generations, and my boys will do what it takes to keep it that way. They just needed a little push in the right direction.”
“And I’m the right direction?”
“Of course. You’ve obviously enraptured my grandson.”
“Oh…no. It’s not like that… You told him to get married, and I was…convenient.” I snap my mouth closed because it’s not like I can tell him I was coerced because I need a visa.
His eyes glitter in the dim light, and he chuckles softly. “That’s interesting.”
“What is?”
He glances up at someone before looking back at me. “That you haven’t realized that everything Damon does is intentional. I assure you, Mrs. Everette, it is not because it was convenient.”
Reeling at his words, I try to sort through them. Damon married me because he needed to and I was easily manipulated into the terms he wanted. Right?
“I’m sorry to cut this short, but there’s a man I need to speak with. Please, stay here until my grandson comes and finds you.” He’s gone before I can tell him that I’m working and not here as Damon’s date.
I’m still reeling from my conversation with the patriarch of the Everette family when two men approach me, who I recognize instantly.
“Hello, sister.” Sebastian Everette gives me a lopsided grin and winks while throwing his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer, as if we really are family.
“Be quiet,” I warn, eyes darting around to see if anyone heard him. “I work for your brother. Remember?”
“Ah, yes. You’re his employee only. Our mistake. I guess we’ll need to bring you into the family another way.” Bash lifts my hand and places a delicate kiss on my knuckles.
“Everyone is looking,” I hiss under my breath and go to yank my hand back, but his fingers tighten momentarily, holding me in place before letting my arm drop.
Both brothers look at someone over my shoulder and grin.
“That’s the point,” they say in unison.
I start to turn toward where they’re looking, but a shrill voice calls my name.
“Miss Hart.”
Dread hangs over me like a cloud at the sight of Damon’s mother approaching.
Bash leans in, kissing my cheek. “See you, sis.”
“Don’t you dare abandon me.”
He grins just before his mother reaches us. “Don’t you know? Escape is what little brothers are best at.”
I groan internally. Am I going to be forced to speak with every member of the Everette family tonight? Solemnly, I plaster a polite smile on my face and greet the matron.
“Where are they running off to?” Mrs. Everette is dressed impeccably, as expected. A light navy dress hovers respectfully over her curves, down to below her knees. Her dangling pearl earrings gleam as she looks after them before turning her razor-sharp attention toward me.
“They didn’t say.” I fight against the urge to cower from her, but this woman has honed her ability to convey disdain with a simple look, like a blacksmith would a blade.
“No matter. Have you been doing your job, Miss Hart?”
Job? Truthfully, I haven’t been doing much other than standing here. “The event is going well. There’s not much for me to set up here.”
“Now, now. Did our conversation teach you nothing? Damon will not go out of his way to find a wife, so we need to do it for him.”
Oh, she couldn’t be more wrong on that front.
“That there is Rosalie , eldest daughter of the St. James family.”
She discreetly gestures to a young woman whose father is currently speaking with Damon. My heart sinks at the sight of them. She’s his perfect counterpart. Poised, elegant, the definition of grace as she delicately lifts her glass to hide her smile.
“She graduated from Yale Law, top of her class,” Mrs. Everette continues.
Of course she did…
A sour twist forms in my stomach when Damon smiles at something she says.
By the time I glance back toward his mother, she’s appraising me, and I’m clearly failing.
“What do you think, Miss Hart? Do they not look good together?” Her voice is smooth, but there’s an edge that’s sharp as a knife.
“Yes…they do.” I look them over, and acid burns in my throat at being forced to say anything.
“You know you don’t belong here.”
My attention snaps back to her. “I’m working.”
“So I’ve been told, but it appears you have somehow deluded yourself regarding Damon’s affection.”
“What?” Cold ice crystallizes my veins and freezes me in place. I’m suddenly sixteen again, surrounded by mean, catty women all dressed in pastels, explaining how, no matter how hard my parents try, we will never belong. My fingers tremble around the wine flute I’ve been nursing. She’s right. I don’t belong here.
“I understand you’re likely sleeping with my son, but don’t misunderstand, he will not stay with you. He will not love you. You’re just an amusement as he passes his time. Just because you’ve been allowed to chase at his feet doesn’t mean you belong here. Do you understand, Miss Hart?”
There’s a razor-sharp sting piercing through my ribs until my chest caves in. My eyes sting, and I desperately blink back tears, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing her words hit exactly where she meant them to.
She doesn’t know that I’m already well aware of how much I don’t fit into this world. That the lesson was sliced into me years ago.
My chest burns to take a breath, but I’m afraid it’ll come out in a sob. I stumble back, needing to create space between us.
The sweet scent of smoke and cologne fills my nose milliseconds before Damon’s arm wraps possessively around my waist. His voice is a dark warning when he says,“Watch how you speak to my wife.”