19. Izabella
IZABELLA
Passing the beautiful ball gown back to Fitzy, I dutifully take the pale-yellow lingerie he hands me and pull it on, then dress in the shorts and yellow shirt I tried on first. It’s strange how in such a short amount of time, he’s managed to put together outfits that feel like I picked them myself. Except for the pink dress, everything he’s chosen is my style, and nothing like the Penelope-replica clothes my mom insists I wear when I leave the house.
“You decent?” Fitzy asks, tapping at the side of the changing screen.
“Yes,” I call, sliding my feet into the butter-soft leather boat shoes he paired with this outfit.
His sweet face appears around the screen, and there’s just something so caring and fatherly about him that I throw myself at him, flinging my arms around his shoulders as I hug him tightly. He doesn’t hesitate to pull me close and hug me back, rubbing my back soothingly.
When he pulls away, his brow is furrowed, but his eyes are soft and reassuring. “I don’t know all the details about what’s going on between you and Gulliver, but if you need me to go big bad godfather on that stupid boy out there, you just let me know.”
I laugh softly. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’m hoping he’ll realize how stupid all of this is and tell my family the truth.”
“Where’s your cell?” he asks.
“Err, upstairs, I think.”
“Go grab it and all your hair and makeup things, and I’ll finish styling you while you eat.”
“You don’t need to,” I start, but the words fall away at the look on Fitzy’s face. “Okay, thank you. Why are you being so nice to me?” I blurt.
A sadness fills his expression. “Because you’re engaged to my idiot of a godson, which makes you my goddaughter, and because I think we met for a reason; because you need me.”
My lips snap shut, and I don’t speak because I know that if I open my mouth, I’m going to cry, so I clamp my trembling lips together and nod. His arms pull me back in for another hug, and I realize that maybe something good might have come from all the chaos Gulliver has caused after all.
“Come on then, darling, you need to eat,” he says, guiding me from behind the screen. “Gulliver, I’ll add all of this to your bill. It’s the least you can do for your fiancée,” Fitzy says, smiling at me with a wink.
“Seems fair to me; anything else you think she needs, just organize for her too,” Gulliver says. “But nothing in pink.”
My head snaps up, and I stare at him. “Why no pink?” I ask.
“Because your sister wears pink, and I don’t want you to wear anything that she would like. You’re more beautiful and far more unique than she is. There’s no need to do anything like she would when you’re indescribably more interesting just being yourself,” he replies easily, his stormy eyes locked with mine.
My lips part, and my mouth falls open as I feel tears well in my eyes. He’s openly using me, and I’ve no doubt there will be vicious consequences when I get home, but what he just said to me means more than he could ever possibly understand. For so long, my family has told me that I’m unimportant, that all of our focus should be on Penelope because her future is so much bigger than mine, and he just undermined all of that with one sentence.
Blinking away the stupid tears that are threatening to fall, I flash him a shaky smile and escape the room as quickly as I can.
Following the guys out of the house, I climb into the back of Gulliver’s Range Rover, with Kip on one side and Thorn on the other, squashing me in the middle as we fly down the highway toward Hawthorn’s yacht.
The huge automatic gates slide open when we arrive at the marina, and Gulliver steers us into the parking lot and kills the engine before climbing out. I follow Kip, taking his hand when he offers to help me climb down from the huge SUV, and then wait for the rest of the guys to follow suit.
“There she is,” Thorn says excitedly, pointing to a huge, shiny yacht that’s glistening in the sunny fall morning. The weather is still mild, and I slide the sunglasses Fitzy gave me over my eyes to shield me from the sun reflecting off the water as I take in the rest of the marina.
Rows and rows of impressive, shiny boats are lined up ahead of us, and I breathe deeply, inhaling the familiar briny smell of the water as Thorn paces impatiently, obviously ready to get going. Kip reaches for my hand again, but Gulliver drapes his arm across my shoulders and smiles down at me. “You ready?”
I nod, and he guides me forward and away from the car until we reach a metal gangplank that leads from the dock up onto the huge yacht.
Thorn leads the way, rushing up onto the boat and grinning widely as he greets an older man dressed in a white uniform. “Mr. Benedict, she’s all ready. As soon as your guests are all aboard, we can get going. Would you like to helm out of the docks, or shall I go ahead and get us into clear water?”
“Matthew, you already know Gulliver, Davis, and Kip, but let me introduce you to Izabella Rhodes,” Thorn says, his voice polite as he gestures to me.
“Good morning, Miss Rhodes. Welcome aboard The Escape,” Matthew says.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll helm, thanks, Matthew, and I know the guys want to crew, so if you could let control know that we’re ready, we’ll get going,” Thorn tells him confidently.
“Yes, sir,” Matthew says, nodding efficiently before disappearing inside the boat.
“Let’s get this motherfucking show on the road!” Thorn shouts gleefully, and all the guys cheer in response as I watch in confusion.
“We’re all going to crew, so you can either sit out here while we get into clear water or inside; your choice,” Gulliver says, dropping his arm from my shoulders and spinning me around to face him.
“I’ll stay out here, if that’s okay?” I ask.
“Cool, go with Thorn. There are some seats up by the wheel,” Gulliver says, turning and striding purposefully toward some kind of device that he starts to wind with a handle. I’m frozen for a moment, my eyes riveted on the way the muscles in his arms flex and bulge as he works.
Clearing his throat, Thorn smirks and gestures for me to follow him. His smile is wider than I’ve seen on him so far, and it’s obvious that this boat, or maybe just sailing, is his happy place.
“You can sit over there,” he says, pointing to a leather seating area off to the side, and I immediately lower myself into the seat and watch as the guys bustle around doing things with ropes and shouting things back and forth in a way that says they’ve done this all a hundred times before.
Matthew appears, speaks to Thorn, then crosses to where we boarded and unties the ropes holding the walkway to the boat, passing it off to a man I hadn’t noticed standing on the dock.
Several moments of busy action pass as I watch the guys maneuver the huge yacht away from the dock and out of the marina into open water. The wind whips against my face, and my hair blows behind me as the boat effortlessly eats up the water, moving quickly, until the marina and all of the boats are nothing more than dots in the distance.
When I’m sure I won’t be in the way, I stand up and move closer to the roped-off edge of the yacht, looking down into the dark-blue water beneath us and the waves hitting the boat as we glide along.
“What do you think?” Thorn asks.
“I love it,” I answer honestly.
“Do you want to steer?” he asks.
“Really?”
“Yeah, come here,” he says, laughing at my very obvious enthusiasm.
Carefully, I walk over to him, and he talks me through how to steer and how to see which direction we’re heading in. The boat’s wheel is huge, and I grip it tightly, then experimentally turn it one way, watching in surprise as the huge yacht responds to my command.
“You’re a natural,” Thorn praises, dropping into the seat I was in before and stretching out his legs, his head tipped back as he basks in the warm sun and cool wind.
“Hey, I don’t really know what I’m doing,” I tell him when he actually closes his eyes.
His laugh is carefree and light. “We’re in the middle of the ocean without another boat in sight. You’ll be fine.”
A giggle falls from my lips, and I turn to look ahead, my own smile almost as big as his. He takes over steering after a while, and I carefully make my way to the front of the boat and find Gulliver and Kip standing, watching the water and chatting.
“Hey,” Gulliver calls when he sees me approaching.
“Hey.”
“You having fun?” he asks.
I nod. “This is awesome. Thank you for forcing me to come.”
“See, there’s some perks to this whole fake fiancée thing.” He laughs dryly.
“Yeah, about that.”
“Izzy, don’t. I’m not going to change my mind, and I’ve already told you what I’ll do if you tell your family the truth,” he snarls, his expression going hard and unyielding.
“You’re an asshole,” I hiss, bracing my hands on my hips as I glare at him. “You’d really tell my family I orchestrated all of this and destroy my relationship with them?”
“What fucking relationship?” he spits. “They pretend you don’t exist, Izzy. You’re fucking scared of them.”
“I’m not scared of them,” I say unconvincingly.
“Bullshit. I saw the way you were looking at them last night. I saw the fear in your eyes.”
“You just threw me under a fucking bus with them, then blackmailed me to keep my mouth shut. My family might not be the nicest of people, but you’re exactly the same!” I shout, turning and walking away before he has a chance to say anything else.
Bypassing Hawthorn at the wheel, I stomp through the door and into the boat’s living quarters, pausing slightly to take in the opulent stateroom I just entered. Soft creams with rich woods and muted tones cover the space in a way that screams luxury. Ignoring the décor, I throw myself down onto one of the couches and cover my face with my hands. I’m screwed. A part of me believed that maybe I could reason with Gulliver, that I could make him see how stupid this whole fake engagement is. But he’s adamant about carrying on with the lies, regardless of how bad things will get for me.
A bitter scoff falls from my lips, and I lower my hands and let my head fall back against the couch cushion. If I had a better relationship with my mom, dad, and Penelope, his blackmail wouldn’t work. If we were a normal family and I had a normal sibling-slash-daughter role, there’d be no question of my family believing I didn’t orchestrate this, but the truth is, I don’t.
In less than a week, Gulliver identified my weaknesses and exploited them for his own gain. All of this has shone a light on the fact that my parents don’t give a fuck about me. If any of that money was coming my way, maybe they would, but it isn’t, and money is everything. Hot anger bubbles up, and for a moment I wonder if all the lies Gulliver has told and this stupid fake engagement could be worthwhile, that maybe fucking with them might be worth it.
But my rebellion dies as quickly as it came. I already learned that going against my parents won’t work in my favor. But what do I do now? Gulliver won’t let me out of this stupid arrangement, and he’s right, my family will always believe him over me.
“Izabella,” a low voice says from the doorway.
Looking up, I expect to find Gulliver, but instead Kip is watching me, a cautious smile hitching the corners of his lips. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head, my bottom lip trembling slightly.
Closing the distance between us, he pulls me into an unexpected hug, holding me against his chest as he rubs soothing circles on my back. “I’ll talk to him, I’ll see if I can make him see sense,” he whispers into my hair.
At his words, the tears I’ve managed to hold back until now finally fall, and I shudder against him as silent sobs rack through me.
“I’m sorry, Izzy. This was all just supposed to be a joke. I’m so sorry,” he soothes, pulling me tighter and stroking my hair.
After a minute, I pull away from him, wiping the tears from my cheeks as I take a shaky breath and try to get myself together. “How long are we going to be out on the water for?” I ask, my voice raspy.
“Most of the day.”
“Is there a bedroom I can use?” I ask, needing to be alone to shore up my defenses and try to find some solution to this ridiculous situation Gulliver has forced me into. “I swear I’m not normally this pathetic.”
“You don’t seem pathetic, Izzy. You seem pissed off, and sad and alone,” Kip says, his eyes downcast.
A dry, humorless laugh bursts free, and I nod. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”
“Come on, I’ll show you to one of the rooms. Lunch won’t be ready for a couple of hours.”
Pushing up from the couch, I wipe my eyes again and force a shaky smile to my lips. “Thank you,” I say, touching his arm. “I don’t know why you’re being nice to me, but I really appreciate it.”
“I’ll try to get him to drop this. We can think of another way around Penelope,” he says, like he really thinks it’s an option.
I don’t say anything else, and he leads me to a bedroom, casting a worried glance in my direction before he leaves me, and I close and lock the door behind him.
An impatient knock at the door pulls me from sleep, and I look around, disoriented and unsure where I am. As I take in my surroundings, it takes me a moment to remember that I’m in a bedroom on Hawthorn’s boat. Searching the walls for a clock, I finally spot one on the bedside table, shocked to see that it’s after three in the afternoon.
At lunchtime, one of the crew brought me a plate of food, and after picking at it, I must have fallen asleep. The knock at the door becomes more insistent, and I crawl off the bed and move to open it.
Twisting the lock, I turn the handle and open the door, finding a scowling Gulliver standing on the other side, his fist poised and ready to knock again.
“We’re back at the marina,” he says, running his eyes over me, taking in my messy hair and red-rimmed eyes.
“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute,” I say coldly, not meeting his gaze.
“Izzy,” he starts, but I interrupt him.
“I just need to freshen up, and I’ll be ready to go,” I say, turning and pushing the door closed in his face.
Padding into the bathroom, I splash some water on my cheeks before sliding my shoes on and heading back onto the deck. Four sets of eyes all turn to me as I step outside, but I ignore them all except Kip, whom I flash a small, barely-there smile to.
The silence that stretches between us as we wait for Matthew to secure the gangplank into place feels like it lasts forever, and the moment he steps back, I offer him my thanks and walk off the boat and onto the dock, not waiting for the others as I make my way back to Gulliver’s car. Picking at the skin on the side of my finger, I wait quietly by the Range Rover until the guys all appear, the mood somber. When Gulliver unlocks the car, I climb in, shuffling over to the far side of the rear seat so I can look out of the window rather than end up stuck in the middle between the two guys again.
The guys chat between themselves as we drive home, but I don’t engage in the conversation, merely counting down the minutes until we pull into the driveway for Gulliver’s house. When he slows to a stop, I’m grateful for Beth’s impeccable service as the front door swings open. I eagerly dart into the house, thanking her as I make my way upstairs to the room I used last night to gather my stuff.
Once I’ve packed everything I brought with me back into my overnight bag, I grab my cell and quickly dial Mark’s number.
“Miss Izabella, are you okay?” he asks.
“Could you come and pick me up from the Winslows’, please?”
“Of course, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Thank you,” I say shakily, the fear of having to face my family starting to set in.
“I’ll be there soon,” my sweet driver says, his voice full of fatherly concern that brings more tears to my eyes.
Shoving my cell into the pocket of my shorts, I carefully slide my beautiful dress into its garment bag and pull it off the hook it was hanging on. Glancing around, I check that I haven’t left anything behind before leaving the room and making my way downstairs. When I hit the foyer, Beth is moving silently toward the living room, but she pauses when she sees me.
“Miss Rhodes, your driver is outside.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “Do you know where Gulliver is? I need to let him know that I’m leaving.”
“Mr. Winslow and his other guests are all on the terrace. Would you like me to take your things to the car?” she asks.
“Thank you, that would be great,” I say, handing off my bags to her as I pull in a sharp inhale and make my way to the living room. When I enter the room, I can hear the guys outside, and I silently make my way toward them.
“Dude, she was crying, this isn’t fucking funny anymore,” I hear Kip say.
“She’ll be fine.” Davis laughs.
“I’m not so sure she will be. Just because she looks like Penelope she isn’t her sister, and she’s a nice girl. This shit you’re doing to her is kind of fucked up,” Kip argues.
“Look, this will all blow over, and the Rhodeses will stop pouting in a day or so. I’m sure once we’ve graduated, she’ll thank me for pulling her out of Penelope’s shadow. Once they get over the shock, her parents will be fucking over the moon, thinking one of their kids landed a Winslow. Penelope can latch onto a new target, and everyone will be happy,” Gulliver says, like this really is just a joke. But then, I suppose to him, it is.
Steeling myself, I step out onto the terrace and wait as all four of them turn to me.
“Do you want a beer?” Hawthorn asks, jumping up and moving to the bar.
“No, thank you. I just came to let you know that my driver’s here,” I tell them quietly.
“I was going to drive you,” Gulliver says, a smirk spreading across his lips.
“It’s fine.” I shrug. “Here,” I say, offering the huge diamond ring out for him to take.
“What?” Gulliver says, glancing at the ring with disdain.
“Your ring,” I say.
“It needs to be on your finger,” he snaps.
“I’m not wearing that thing. This engagement you’ve forced me into is fake, but that rock is real, and I’m not wearing a million-dollar diamond on my finger,” I hiss, taking another step closer and holding the ring out to him.
“Put it on,” he demands.
“No,” I snap.
“Put the fucking ring on, Izzy. Right the fuck now,” he orders.
“Or what?” I snarl, feeling more anger fill me as I think about the chaos he’s wrought in my life in the last twenty-four hours.
“Or I don’t just tell your parents that you set up this fake engagement, I’ll go to the press. I’ll drag you and your family through the mud, get the story on the society pages of every fucking newspaper in the country,” he growls, standing up and moving to loom over me.
“Gulliver, what the fuck?” I hear Kip shout.
“I hate you,” I whisper, vehemence filling my words.
He jolts back in shock as if I’ve surprised him. Forcing the stupid ring back onto my finger, I flip him the bird, turn, and storm away, ignoring the sound of my name as they call me.
Mark’s eyes are wide and wary as I climb into the car, and he silently closes the door behind me, swiftly moving to the driver’s seat and starting the car’s engine. Glancing out of the window, I see Gulliver bursting through the front door.
“Go,” I say, and Mark immediately pulls away from the curb, ignoring Gulliver’s fist banging on my window as we start to move.
Lifting my feet onto the seat, I bury my head against my knees and curl into a ball, sucking in shaky gasps of air as silently as I can. The last twenty-four hours have been overwhelmingly awful, and I know the worst is still to come.
My cell starts to ring, and I glance down to see an unknown number appear on the screen. The only numbers I have in my cell are my parents, Penelope, Mark, and now Fitzy, who almost had an apoplectic fit when he saw my ancient cell phone this morning.
Rejecting the call, I startle when it immediately starts to ring again. A slither of hope creeps in when I wonder if it’s Gulliver calling me to tell me he’s changed his mind and that it’s time to tell my parents the truth. But I’m not an idiot. If it is Gulliver calling me, it’s more likely to be him reminding me of what he’ll do if I don’t behave.
Rejecting the call again, I hold down the button and turn off my phone, sliding it back into my pocket.
“Are you okay?” Mark asks.
“No,” I admit, pulling my lower lip into my mouth to stop it from shaking.
He doesn’t say anything more, but I can feel his worried gaze on me in the rearview mirror. We get to my house much quicker than I would have liked, and it only feels like seconds later when Mark opens my door, his eyes watching me sympathetically.
I climb out before all of my falsified courage deserts me, smiling at Mrs. Humphries when she opens the door. For a minute, I consider hiding in my room until one of them forces the confrontation I know is coming, but I don’t get a chance.
“Hello, daughter, you’ve got some explaining to do,” my mother’s cold, chilling voice says.