Chapter 9
The morning’s events left me rattled, making it impossible to focus on work. My mind replayed the scene in Colson’s office, the weight of his touch, the dark truth he revealed about Easton’s past, and the cold mask he’d slipped back into as if nothing had happened.
I stared blankly at the computer screen in front of me, fingers hovering over the keyboard but unable to type a single word. The envelope with the black card still sat in my desk drawer, a reminder of the power Colson held over me, over everything.
At noon, the shrill ring of my phone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for it, my heart racing as Colson’s extension flashed on the screen.
“The limo is downstairs,” his voice was smooth, measured. “It’s time for your first training session. You’ll be starting with etiquette.”
I swallowed hard, nodding even though he couldn’t see me. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Good. Don’t keep Velva waiting.”
The line went dead, leaving me in the heavy silence of my office.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the elevator, my legs feeling like they were made of lead.
The idea of being trained in etiquette, of all things, felt surreal.
But I knew this was just the beginning. Colson was determined to mold me into the perfect wife, someone who could navigate his world with ease.
The limo ride back to the mansion was a blur, my thoughts swirling with anxiety.
When we arrived, I was greeted by a woman who was the epitome of poise.
Velva McKinney stood in the grand foyer, her platinum blonde hair shining almost silver under the chandelier.
Her sharp blue eyes assessed me with a calculating gaze as she extended a perfectly manicured hand.
“Josephine Shaw, I presume,” she drawled, her Southern accent lilting in a way that was both charming and intimidating. “I’m Velva McKinney. It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear.”
I took her hand, surprised by the firmness of her grip. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. McKinney.”
“Velva will do just fine,” she corrected with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Shall we begin?”
She led me to the formal dining room, a space I had only glimpsed in passing. The table was set with an overwhelming array of silverware, glasses, and plates. My heart sank as I realized this was going to be more intense than I had imagined.
“First things first,” Velva said, her voice crisp as she gestured to the table. “We’ll start with the basics of table etiquette. Knowing which utensil to use and when is crucial in high society.”
For the next three hours, Velva guided me through the intricacies of table manners.
She explained the purpose of each piece of silverware, how to use a finger bowl, and the specific glasses for water, wine, and champagne.
Her instructions were precise, her tone demanding as she corrected my posture, my grip on the knife, even the way I unfolded my napkin.
My head was spinning by the end of it, the sheer amount of information overwhelming. Every time I thought I had a handle on one aspect, she introduced another rule, another nuance. I found myself longing for the simplicity of my old life, where a meal didn’t come with a list of dos and don’ts.
As Velva finally concluded the lesson, she gave me a look of appraisal. “You’ve done well for your first session, but there’s much more to learn. We’ll continue tomorrow.”
I nodded numbly, feeling utterly drained. “Thank you, Velva.”
She gave me a curt nod. “Rest up, dear. You’ll need your wits about you for what’s to come.”
With that, she swept out of the room, leaving me alone at the table. I stared at the elegant place setting in front of me, my mind reeling from the day’s events. This was just the beginning, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was losing myself piece by piece.
I rose from my seat, a heaviness settling in my chest. Instinctively, I peeked into the kitchen, half expecting to see my mother bustling about, prepping dinner as she always did.
But the space was cold and empty. It was just after 4 p.m., and the silence was deafening.
I yearned to hear about her first day at the bakery; she should've been home by now since her shift started at 6 a.m.
Without wasting another moment, I dashed upstairs, quickly changing into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. The vast expanse of lawn stretched before me as I stepped outside, the scent of freshly cut grass filling the air.
I smiled faintly, knowing it was my father's landscaping crew who maintained these grounds. Colson had orchestrated everything seamlessly in such a short time, including the investment paperwork that now ensured my family's stability.
As I approached our little house, a sinking feeling gripped me.
The two chairs that once adorned the small front porch were gone.
Puzzled, I tried the door—it was unlocked.
Pushing it open, I was met with emptiness.
The entire place was barren. Panic rose within me as I sprinted upstairs, only to find the rooms stripped bare, not even the curtain rods remained.
A solitary tear traced down my cheek as I stood in my old bedroom, the very room where I'd spent most of my twenty-three years. The hollow silence was suffocating. Needing solace, I slipped out the back door, heading toward the woods that had always been my refuge.
My tree stood tall, though age had begun to wear it down, patches of bark peeling away. I knew it was only a matter of time before Colson would order it cut down. I settled at its base, leaning against the rough bark, drawing comfort from its steadfast presence.
Raising my hand, I gazed at the enormous engagement ring. It caught the fading sunlight filtering through the leaves, its sparkle a stark contrast to the emptiness I felt—a testament to how drastically my life had changed in such a short span.
Exhaustion overcame me, and I drifted into sleep.
When I stirred, dusk had settled, the sky awash with deep blues and purples.
Strong arms lifted me, the familiar scent of cologne invading my senses.
Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around the neck of my rescuer, feeling a soft kiss pressed against my cheek.
"You had us worried," a voice murmured.
My eyes fluttered open, expecting to see Colson's face. Instead, I found myself cradled in Vaughn's arms. Panic surged through me, and I squirmed, trying to free myself. His grip tightened as he stepped onto the back porch of my old house.
"Don't marry him," he croaked, desperation evident in his tone.
"Vaughn, let me down," I demanded, my voice firm.
The thought of Colson finding me in his son's arms sent a chill down my spine.
The potential for misunderstandings, for scandal—it was too much.
Vaughn ignored my plea, continuing around the side of the house.
Desperation took over, and I sank my teeth into his hand.
He jolted, momentarily loosening his hold.
Seizing the opportunity, I slipped from his grasp, stumbling as I put distance between us. I glared at him, anger flaring. "We've been through this. You know if I marry your father, you have no chance to fuck me. It's what you've wanted for so long," I hissed, the words dripping with venom.
His eyes darkened, and in a swift move, he grabbed my shirt, yanking me toward him. His hand slid to my throat, fingers pressing just enough to assert dominance. "Get it straight, Joey. If I wanted to just fuck you, I would've done it ages ago. It's so much more than that."
His words hung in the air, heavy with implications. Before I could retort, Vaughn turned on his heel, striding away. My gaze followed him, noticing Colson approaching still dressed in his gray suit, his features etched with concern and a simmering rage at the same time.
Colson's eyes bore into mine as he closed the distance. "Where were you?" he growled, the underlying anger palpable.
"I went for a walk in the woods and... fell asleep," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.
Without warning, Colson's hand shot out, fingers wrapping cruelly around the back of my neck.
He squeezed, eliciting a wince from me. "You don't do this again.
Women of high society don't go for walks in the woods.
Look at you—you're covered in dirt. You'll need to shower before dinner and dress appropriately.
I trust Velva discussed dinner attire with you. "
Memories of the exhaustive etiquette session flooded back. "She did," I murmured, chastised. I hadn't anticipated the strictness extending to casual dinners without guests.
Colson's grip tightened momentarily before releasing. His voice dropped, laced with warning. "If you do this again, I'll take you over my knee, Josephine. Do you understand?"
I stared at him, disbelief evident. "Like a spanking?"
"Exactly. I have certain standards," he replied, eyes cold. "Now, please go upstairs and get ready for dinner. You have half an hour."
Nodding meekly, I turned toward the mansion, the weight of his expectations pressing down on me. As I walked away, I couldn't help but feel the walls closing in, the life I once knew slipping further out of reach.
I made it down to dinner with two minutes to spare, my hair still damp from the rushed shower. The dining room was already filled with the quiet clinks of silverware against fine china, a stark contrast to the turmoil still simmering inside me.
Colson, Vaughn, and Easton were seated, their gazes flicking toward me as I entered. I was relieved not to see Simone. The last thing I needed was her sharp tongue and icy glares making an already tense situation worse.
“Joey,” Easton greeted with a warm smile, standing slightly as I took my seat. His easygoing nature was the only thing that made this entire ordeal bearable. “How was your day?” he asked, genuinely curious, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.
I forced a smile, my fingers trembling slightly as I unfolded the napkin and placed it on my lap. “It was… eventful,” I replied, glancing at Vaughn, who was pointedly avoiding my gaze. The memory of his lips on my cheek was still too fresh, and my face heated.
Colson’s eyes lingered on me, his expression unreadable. “I trust you found your first lesson with Velva enlightening,” he said, his voice cool and composed, a stark contrast to the threatening edge I’d heard earlier.
I nodded, trying to suppress the shiver that ran down my spine. “Yes, very enlightening.” My voice came out steadier than I felt, and I reached for the water glass in front of me, desperate for something to do with my hands.
Easton leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s a tough one, isn’t she? I remember when she tried to teach me table etiquette. Nearly bored me to tears.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle softly, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. “I can see why,” I whispered back, the tension in my shoulders easing just a fraction.
“Easton,” Colson’s voice cut through the brief moment of levity, and we both looked up to find him watching us with that same unreadable expression. “Perhaps you could focus on your meal instead of distracting Josephine.”
Easton’s smile faded slightly, but he didn’t look away. “I’m just making conversation, Father. It’s important to be sociable, isn’t it?” His tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of defiance in it that made me glance between the two of them, sensing an old tension.
Vaughn remained silent, his jaw clenched as he methodically cut into his steak. The atmosphere at the table shifted, growing heavier with each passing second.
Colson’s gaze flicked to me, and I felt the weight of his expectations settle on my shoulders. “You’ll have more lessons tomorrow,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You’ll need to be well-prepared for the dinner party this weekend. It’s important you make a good impression.”
I nodded, unable to find the words to respond. The room felt colder, the walls closing in as the reality of my situation settled over me like a shroud. Easton’s presence was the only thing keeping me tethered to some semblance of normalcy, but even that felt fragile under Colson’s watchful eye.
The rest of the meal passed in stilted conversation, with Easton doing his best to keep the atmosphere light.
But I could feel Colson’s eyes on me the entire time, a silent reminder that I was no longer just Joey.
I was his bride-to-be, and everything I did from this point on would be scrutinized, measured, and judged.
As the meal ended and the plates were cleared, I excused myself, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me. I needed a moment to collect myself before I faced whatever else Colson had in store for me.
But as I stood to leave, Easton caught my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “If you need anything,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine with a sincerity that made my chest tighten, “I’m here for you, Joey. Don’t forget that.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. I squeezed his hand in silent thanks before pulling away, feeling both comforted and more alone than ever as I left the dining room. But I would get away that easily. Colson called after me.
“Josephine, I’d like to see you in my room.”
I frowned. “Your office.”
He stroked his chin. “My bedroom, Josephine, the one you will share with me after we’re married.”
I swallowed hard, hoping he couldn’t hear it. “Now?”
“Give me five minutes.”
He headed up the stairs and I looked after him. Vaughn came from the shadows near the stairway.
“He’s going back on his word. You can’t honestly believe he’ll wait until your married, do you?”
I hugged myself as my stomach churned. “I have to believe that he’ll keep his word.”
“He won’t but you chose which bed you wanted to share and now you have to deal with it,” he spat, walking toward the kitchen.