Chapter 16
“What do you think of this, Gus?” I ask him, holding a piece of fabric up to the dress already formed on one of my mannequins. “Do we like this as an overlay?”
Alora messaged me a few days ago, saying she wants to commission dresses for the wedding instead of casual wear, assuring me that will come later. I promptly put a few sketches together, and she loved them.
I had taken inspiration from pictures of her wardrobe that she’d sent. She loves soft lines, really romantic styles, lace, pinks, blues, pastels, some of which found a home in her gown.
For Blair’s, I choose something more elegant, clean, not wanting something to fight the spotlight with her, but to emphasize the light she already is.
I saw, from stalking her socials on Jules’s account, that she loves bows, so I made sure to add one to the front neckline, small and demure, and one to the back of the corset as well.
This may be some of my best work yet.
Gus squeaks, and I take that as his approval for the fabric.
“Good choice, sir. I’ll get working on this right away.” I giggle, pinning it around the skirt.
He watches me work in awe, his whiskers twitching. He nestles into his little bed on my desk that I made with scrap fabric, happy and content.
Time seems to fade away as I lose myself in the craft, pure glee filling my heart.
This is what I love, exactly what I want to do for the rest of my life.
I don’t need to be rich. I don’t need status or wealth.
I just need this … and maybe the two guys who are making it really hard to stay behind my mask.
Thankfully, they’re out of town for the next couple of days for an away game, giving me a chance to breathe and think without worrying they’ll figure me out. There can only be so many times they run into the real me and not put two and two together.
Asher, thank God, let me go the other day without pushing me further, but I saw the recognition in his eyes. He couldn’t place it, but it reminded me how easily this whole facade could come crashing down.
We might have not known each other for long, but I know these boys are stubborn and resilient. The second they learn who I really am, they’ll stop at nothing until I’m free to be with them. That would blow their life up, and that’s the last thing I want to do.
A knock sounds on my door, and I shout, “Come in,” assuming it’s Jules.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
My stepmother’s voice chills me to the core, and anxiety floods my system.
“Who gave you permission to create new gowns?”
With my back to her, I tap my desk, summoning Gus to my hand, who I instantly tuck into my hoodie pocket. Phew.
Duke brushes against my leg, probably desperate to get a taste of my flesh and hear me scream. Evil bastard.
Turning slowly, I do something I’ve been doing a lot more of lately. I lie. “This is for a class. I have to design and create two gowns for our assigned models.”
She squints, the same beady-eyed stare I’m used to. “Hmm. They’re decent. Or will be at least.”
Striding over to them, she tucks her hands behind her back, assessing them closely.
“Thank you,” I trail off, my skin crawling and cheek burning from being in her presence.
It was only two days ago that she struck me. But I had spoken back to her when she told me to be quiet. Did I deserve it? Absolutely the hell not. But I know her rules, and I chose to act out.
It will all come back to bite her in the end. All of her evilness will—I’m sure of it.
Reaching out, she runs her fingers along the pink satin before rubbing her thumb and pointer finger together, like the material left a residue. “Feels kind of cheap.”
Then she must have horrible taste because that’s the most expensive fabric I’ve ever purchased, thanks to Alora’s budget.
She glances over at the gown I’m making for her rehearsal dinner before her head snaps my way. “Where is my dress?”
“It’s right there.”
“Not that one. I’m not blind, Cirella. I can obviously see that. My other dress.”
My heart drops. “Y-you haven’t requested anything new lately.”
She scoffs in disgust, “Clearly, if you have enough free time for this, then you have enough to make something else for me. God forbid you could surprise me with something.”
Her fingers pinch the flowy cap sleeve of Alora’s gown, and in one swift movement, she yanks it down, tearing the seams apart.
“What are you doing?” I shriek.
Towering over me, she rights herself, a menacing smirk on her lip. “Oops.”
Defeat starts closing in around me, draining any energy I have left to give. “Please stop.”
She grabs my jaw, shaking my head side to side. “Say, I’m sorry, madam. I should have gotten my priorities straight.”
Swallowing hard, I give her what she wants, knowing it’ll only get worse if I don’t. “I’m sorry, madam.” My voice cracks, and I loathe my body for giving her the satisfaction my pain will bring her. “I should have gotten my priorities straight.”
“That’s right.” Her gaze drops to the small bruise she previously left behind.
“So fragile and breakable, Cirella. I barely touched you, and you bruised right up, like a peach. I won’t do that again, I promise.
” Her voice is soft and barely audible. She smiles, tightening her grasp. “In such a visible place.”
“Cirella!” Jules’s voice sings down the hall, and panic tears through me.
My stepmother won’t hesitate to punish Jules in order to protect herself.
My stepmother drops her hand and steps back, tucking her arms behind her back right as Jules bursts through the door.
“Oh.” Jules quickly gathers herself, putting on an act. “Ms. Chamberlain. I didn’t know we were being blessed with your presence. Can I help?”
I swear a curtsy would’ve been a cherry on top.
My stepmother grins. “No. I just came to see how our newest helper was doing.” She turns to me. “Great work here, Cirella. We’re so lucky to have you.”
If her hand wasn’t just around my neck five seconds ago, I’d almost believe her. She’s awfully convincing.
Quietly, she removes herself from my room with her evil cat, shutting the door behind her and leaving Jules, Gus, and me alone.
I exhale, taking a deep breath for the first time since she came in here. God, I swear there’s less oxygen when she’s around.
Jules rushes over to me as I pull Gus from my pocket and set him gently on my desk. “She’s so fucking awful.”
My throat burns, but I refuse to shed another tear for that horrible woman. “I know.”
Jules gasps, turning toward my mannequins. “No. Did she do that?”
I nod, crossing my arms over my torso.
She sighs in disappointment. “I vote we cut up her dress, with a wood chipper … with her inside of it.”
This earns her a genuine chuckle, and tears well in my eyes despite my reservations.
Somehow, I think, she would still find ways from the grave to torment me.
“I love you too much for you to get arrested for murder.”
“Ugh, fine. But we’ve got to do something.”
“We will. Don’t worry. But it’s not time yet.”
“Then when?” she huffs.
“Before the wedding. We can’t let that monster marry Mr. Kensington.”
“God, could you imagine? It’d be like marrying the actual Devil. The Devil would honestly probably be nicer than that hag,” Jules groans.
Grinning, I pull her back in for another hug, the crushing loneliness fading ever so slightly from my chest. “You’re the best.”
I may not have social media accounts, but I do manage to sign up for the streaming service broadcasting the Legends game tonight.
I take a picture, keeping the image isolated to the screen so they don’t recognize any furniture or anything.
*attached photo* Good luck, boys. I’m cheering for you.
I don’t get a response, but that’s because they’re already on the ice, skating around for warm-ups.
God, they look intimidating, powerful.
I’ve never paid much attention to hockey before I met them, but there’s a beauty to the sport and the controlled violence. They make it all look so easy when I know I would look like a literal fish out of water if I were out there.
They’re playing the Reapers, and with a little search, I find that they lost to them the last time the two teams faced each other. It was only by one goal though.
Nerves wreak havoc inside of me as the game begins, and I hang on to every second, pass, hit, and moment. I don’t know how Alora and Blair do this all the time. It’s so intense.
One of the Reapers players rams into Asher, sending him flying into the boards headfirst, and my heart leaps into my throat, blocking off my airway as I wait for him to move and get up.
But he stays down, and I cover my mouth, every hair on my body standing on end.
“Get up. Get up,” I murmur, watching my phone so intently that I worry it’ll catch fire.
Dean takes off after the guy who hit Asher, dropping his gloves and ripping off his helmet.
He mauls the player, seeking justice for Asher, who is finally starting to sit up. My eyes are bouncing all over the screen, as I’m unsure of who I should pay more attention to.
Dean always seems like the sweeter and calmer of the two, but watching him unleash himself on the Reapers player has me second-guessing what I thought I knew about him.
I think he’s just as passionate as Asher, if not more. He just keeps it all inside.
Dean’s relentless, beating the guy into the ice until the refs have to physically tear them apart. Dean is still shouting and trying to get at him.
At the same time, Asher is getting to his feet, and the crowd erupts in joy.
There’s one thing I’ve learned about hockey: no one wants to see a serious injury.
A hard hit? Yes. A fight? Yes. But no one, no matter what team you’re cheering for, wants to see someone get dangerously hurt—as long as that person isn’t a garbage human, I suppose.
If I wasn’t clutching my phone like my life depended on it, I’d be clapping too. My eyes well up with tears, and my heart aches as I take a deep breath, realizing I haven’t fully breathed since he went down.
My heart is pounding harder than ever, my anxiety and emotions at an all-time high.
I know I like them both; that’s never escaped me.
But the things I’m feeling right now … are intense. Serious. These feelings are sinking bone deep, rooting into the very DNA of my being with no sign of ever leaving.
God, I’m really falling for them, aren’t I?
I mean, why wouldn’t I be? How can I not?
Aside from Jules and Myra, they’re the only people in my life who have fought for me since I lost my parents. They don’t even know who I truly am, and they treat me the same anyway.
They wrap me in warmth, cradling me from the rest of the world. They want me no matter who I am, no matter if I come from money or not.
They’re selfless and kind, helping a girl who works for them, even when they owe her nothing.
Asher didn’t know who I was when he stopped me in the house that day. He had no clue that I was the same girl he’d devoured in the gazebo. He thought I was just someone who worked for his family, and he was willing to go to war for me.
Dean and Asher are two of the greatest people I’ve ever known, and I never want to lose them. I certainly refuse to let my stepmother take them from me.
I think it might be time I start fighting back for what I want, not cowering down just to survive. I want to live.
Asher pumps his fist in the air as he skates to the bench—to be evaluated since I think he just lost consciousness on the ice. He salutes his brother across the way in the penalty box, and I’m suddenly very sure of one thing.
They aren’t letting me go to war alone. They’ll fight at my side every step of the way as long as I let them. I’m going to. It’s not a matter of if, but when.