Chapter 10
Today was take two for my party skills, and the weather seemed to reflect the mood inside.
Vaughn had asked Serena for her hand in marriage, and tonight was the engagement party that Colson and I were hosting in their honor.
It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, yet the relentless fall rain outside mirrored the gloom in Vaughn's eyes.
He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole rather than celebrate his impending nuptials.
I made my way through the party, offering smiles to the guests, exchanging pleasantries, and keeping my hands busy with a champagne flute that I had no intention of drinking from.
The house was warm and filled with soft candlelight, but no amount of décor could lift the heavy atmosphere.
The tension was palpable, and it wasn’t just the weather.
Colson was his usual charming self, effortlessly moving through the room, shaking hands, and engaging in small talk as if everything was perfect.
I envied his ability to put on a facade, to hide the truth behind that polished exterior.
I caught his eye from across the room, and he gave me a brief nod—his silent command to keep the evening on track.
As I approached Vaughn, I noticed how he was standing apart from the crowd, leaning against the mantel with a glass of scotch in his hand. His fiancée, Serena, was across the room, laughing with a group of women, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing inside her soon-to-be husband.
"Congratulations," I said softly, coming to stand beside Vaughn.
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a long sip of his drink, staring into the amber liquid as if it held the answers to all his problems. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "Does it feel like a congratulations to you, Josephine?"
I glanced over at Serena, who was now flashing her engagement ring to an admiring crowd. "I suppose that depends on what you’re congratulating yourself for," I replied, keeping my tone light.
Vaughn let out a bitter laugh. "For being the perfect son, the perfect fiancé...the perfect puppet." He looked at me, his eyes dark and brooding. "What about you, Josephine? How does it feel to be married to the man who pulls all the strings?"
I stiffened at his words, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "Vaughn, this isn’t the time."
"Isn't it?" He tilted his head, his gaze boring into mine. "When is the right time, then? When we're all too deep in the lies to ever find our way out?"
I felt a chill run down my spine, and it wasn’t from the drafty old house. "You made your choice," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "And now you have to live with it."
He shook his head, a mirthless smile tugging at his lips. "You’re right. I did make my choice. But it’s not just me who has to live with it, is it? We’re all trapped in the Ashworth mess. And you’re becoming just like him," he said, gesturing to Colson.
The same argument. I didn’t have a response to that. I couldn’t argue with him, not when he was right. But I also couldn’t let him drag me down into his despair, not here, not now.
"Vaughn," I said, lowering my voice so only he could hear, "you need to get it together. For tonight, at least.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly. "You’re right. I’ll play the part, just like you do."
Before I could respond, Serena approached us, her smile bright but her eyes wary. "What are you two whispering about?" she asked, sliding her arm around Vaughn's.
"Just giving my best wishes to the happy couple," I replied smoothly, returning her smile.
Serena seemed satisfied with that and turned her attention back to Vaughn, who immediately plastered on a smile for her benefit.
But as they walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this engagement was a ticking time bomb.
Vaughn didn’t want to be unhappy but the only thing that would make him happy was me.
I made my way back to Colson, who was now engaged in a conversation with Bart Henderson.
He glanced at me as I approached, his expression unreadable.
I took my place by his side, slipping my arm through his as if everything was perfectly fine.
But inside, I was just as miserable as Vaughn, trapped in a cage of my own making.
I stood silently by Colson's side, listening to the conversation between him and Bart Henderson, my thoughts only half on their discussion.
My mind was still on Vaughn and the unease that settled over the evening like a dark cloud.
I barely noticed when a server approached, leaning in to speak quietly in my ear.
"Mrs. Ashworth, could you come to the kitchen for a moment?" the server asked, her voice laced with urgency.
My stomach sank. I knew what this was about before I even stepped away from Colson's side. It was happening again.
As I walked to the kitchen, the murmur of conversation faded, replaced by the low hum of anxiety.
The moment I entered the room, I saw Simone.
She was slumped against the counter, eyes glassy and unfocused, and the chef was eyeing her warily, clearly hoping she wouldn’t vomit on his carefully prepared dishes.
"She’s drunk," the chef said, his voice tense as he moved the main dish of capons away from potential chaos.
Simone swayed on her feet, giggling to herself, oblivious to the chaos she was causing. She was supposed to be a guest, invited to celebrate Vaughn and Serena’s engagement, but of course, she’d arrived late and inebriated. I’d had enough.
"If my husband doesn’t want to deal with his daughter, I will," I muttered to myself, storming across the kitchen.
I grabbed Simone by the arm, her skin cold and clammy beneath my fingers, and began dragging her toward the French doors. She stumbled, slurring protests as I hauled her outside onto the patio. The rain drummed against the overhang, the sound drowning out her shrill complaints.
"Knock it off," I growled, shoving her away from me once we were outside. "I will not allow you to destroy another party."
Simone's eyes narrowed, and in a flash of drunken rage, she grabbed the front of my dress, yanking me toward her. The fabric tore with a sharp rip, exposing the red lace bra underneath—a bra Colson had specifically requested I wear tonight.
"Let go of me!" I snarled, but Simone only tightened her grip, her fingers digging into the torn fabric.
We had an audience now—guests peering through the glass doors, their expressions a mix of shock and curiosity. But I didn’t care. I’d had enough of her antics, enough of her trying to ruin every moment of peace I tried to carve out in this hellish life.
Without thinking, I balled my fist and punched her square in the jaw.
Simone staggered back, slipping on the rain-slicked patio before falling into a heap on the wet stone.
She lay there, blinking up at the sky in dazed surprise.
I barely had time to register what I’d done before Vaughn was beside me, his strong arms wrapping around my upper body, pulling me back before I could strike again.
"Josephine, stop," Vaughn murmured, his voice low and close to my ear. His hand, meant to steady me, instead brushed against my breast, and I felt his thumb graze my nipple through the torn fabric of my dress.
I was too stunned to react, too shocked by the turn of events to do anything but freeze. Then, suddenly, Vaughn’s touch was gone, replaced by Colson’s arms, his grip firm and commanding as he pulled me away from the scene. His face was a mask of anger, his jaw clenched tight.
One of the servers rushed to help Simone, who was now crying, her mascara running in dark streaks down her cheeks. I pulled away from Colson’s grasp, the adrenaline in my veins urging me to run, to escape the mess I’d just created.
I didn’t look back as I fled up the stairs, the sound of the rain fading as I shut myself in our bedroom.
My dress was ruined, the delicate fabric torn, and I was soaked through from the rain.
But it wasn’t the wet clothes or the ruined evening that had my heart racing—it was the realization that tonight, something had shifted. And there was no going back.
Colson joined me a few minutes later, probably doing damage control. I shucked out of my soaked dress down to my underwear as he stormed into our bedroom.
"What the fuck did you do?" Colson hissed as he followed me into the closet, his voice sharp with barely contained rage.
I didn't even bother to turn around. I was too busy trying to control the shaking in my hands as I rifled through the hangers. "What you wouldn’t. She needs to be reprimanded, Colson. I’m not going to let her ruin another party."
He grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around to face him. His eyes were wild, and I could see the anger boiling just beneath the surface. "Well, congratulations, Josephine. It was ruined anyway. You looked like a... a..."
I tilted my head, offering him the words he was too cowardly to say. "A low-class wannabe?"
His expression darkened, but he shook his head. "No. Classless is more like it."
I let out a bitter laugh, finally turning away from him as I pulled a burgundy dress off a hanger. "I asked you to put her in the guest house, but I guess my requests don’t matter. Only yours."
"Joey..." His voice softened, trying to pull me back in, but I wasn’t having it.
"Save it, Colson," I muttered, stepping into the dress.
He leaned against the granite island, watching me as I slipped my arms into the sleeves. "Joey, listen to me. Simone had a hard time after Poppy died. She needed her mother, and I was less than adequate."
I paused, my hands hovering at my sides. Colson was showing his vulnerable side again, that rare glimpse into the man he was beneath the layers of control and cruelty. I sighed, turning to face him. "Can you zip me up?"
He stepped forward, his fingers grazing my skin as he slowly pulled up the zipper. The warmth of his lips trailed kisses along my spine as he did, and when the zipper was fully up, he gently moved my hair to the side, planting another kiss on the nape of my neck.
It was so easy to get lost in him, to forget the walls we’d built between us. I turned in his arms, capturing his mouth with mine in a desperate kiss. For a moment, I could almost see a future where I allowed myself to fall completely in love with him, to give in to this dangerous dance we did.
But then Vaughn’s touch flashed through my mind, the way his hand had brushed against my nipple earlier, the way his thumb had lingered, deliberately testing boundaries he had no right to cross.
I shuddered, breaking the kiss as Colson's hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts. His touch was familiar, comforting in a way that only reminded me of the chaos outside that room. But the memory of Vaughn’s hand burned against my skin, and I knew that what he did wasn’t an accident. He had done it on purpose.
Colson's hands lingered on my hips for a moment longer before he pulled back, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite read. “I’d like to continue this later,” he said, his voice low as he stepped away from me.
Desperation clawed at me, and I grabbed the sleeve of his suit jacket before he could turn completely. “Please, Colson,” I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper. “Consider moving Simone to the guest house. She won’t stop.”
He studied me for a moment, his expression softening slightly. “I will,” he finally said with a nod.
But there was something hollow in his promise, and I wasn’t sure if he meant it or if it was just another way to placate me. I had to hope, though. I had to believe that he would finally do something about Simone, that he would move her out of our home and give me a moment’s peace.
It was bad enough that Vaughn was constantly pressuring me to leave his father, his advances growing more insistent each time. He wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t help but wonder what he would do with his fiancée if I ever did give in.
Colson pulled away from me, exiting the closet without another word.
I listened as the bedroom door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone in silence.
I turned back to the mirror, my reflection staring back at me with eyes that seemed to hold too many secrets, too much weariness for someone who should be enjoying her life.
I finished dressing quickly, smoothing out the fabric of the burgundy dress as if it could somehow smooth out the turmoil in my mind.
As I stepped into the hallway, I nearly collided with Easton. His expression shifted from surprise to concern as he took in my appearance.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle as he pulled me into a hug.
I clung to him, feeling the warmth of his embrace seep into my bones. Everything about Easton was genuine, a stark contrast to the world I was trapped in. I loved him, and in many ways, he was the closest thing I had to a best friend.
“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice muffled against his chest.
He didn’t press me, just held me tighter, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to feel safe. But the moment passed too quickly, and I knew I couldn’t stay in his arms forever. There was a party downstairs, and I had a role to play.
“Thank you,” I whispered, pulling back and giving him a small smile.
Easton nodded, his eyes searching mine for answers I wasn’t ready to give. “I’m here if you need anything,” he said, his voice full of sincerity.
“I know,” I replied, brushing a hand against his cheek before turning away.
As I descended the stairs, the weight of the evening pressed down on me. The storm outside mirrored the one brewing within, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep everything from spiraling out of control.