Chapter 3
3
T he night hadn’t even truly begun, and I was rattled as I finally reached the ballroom.
I was never rattled. But at least I’d managed to sneak back inside with only a slightly damp skirt. A back stairway got me safely up to my room, where I’d stashed the guy’s jacket and taken a quick second to touch up my hair and makeup.
I greeted some of our guests, waiting to spot the mysterious man I was supposed to marry, but I knew everyone so far.
“Glad to see you getting back out there,” said an elderly billionaire as he kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t let the gossip get you down.”
Knowing him, he’d turn around and instigate more gossip about me the moment he was out of earshot. Hell, I was pretty sure he owned one of the tabloids that had run the worst pictures of me. I smiled vacantly as he patted my shoulder, then headed towards the bar.
The next man who spoke to me grasped my hands in greeting. “Can we expect a dance from you later, Juliet?” He winked, leaving no mistake about what kind of dance he was hoping for.
I’d been planning to avoid my father, but maybe it was worth being in his presence to put an end to this garbage. They’d never say such things in front of him.
What does it say about me that they’ll do it to my face?
My family was bona fide American royalty. My grandfather and uncle had both served as president. I’d grown up playing with my two sisters on the White House lawn in shiny patent leather shoes and matching dresses.
The Bryson Sisters, they called us, the surrogate First Daughters. My aunt and uncle had never had children of their own, but my family wanted to make sure Uncle Charles still looked like a doting family man to voters. Our older brother had been the model Bryson man long before he was grown, destined for great things. He’d been heir to the Bryson dynasty, and now I was supposed to marry a man who’d step into that role…which meant our children would be under the same pressure I’d been under my whole life.
I wasn’t even sure I wanted children, but my opinion wasn’t going to matter. It was like my life had never fully belonged to me, like the public was entitled to parts of me that normal people didn’t have to share, and the rest belonged to my father.
The public’s fascination with the minutiae of my life had first come to my notice when I was only five and a picture of me with my first missing tooth had ended up in a newspaper. I asked my father why I was in the paper, and he said, “Because you’re their special princess, sugar.”
While we were children, our images were tightly controlled by the family, and they fed the press only what they wanted the public to know. The day each of us had turned eighteen, all bets had been off.
Humans loved to build someone up, to put them on a pedestal. The only thing they loved more was to tear those same people down.
I was lucky to be the middle daughter, so my sister Sophia had run that gauntlet before me. Her senior year of high school, weeks after her eighteenth birthday, she sent a picture of her wearing nothing but some lingerie to a boy. The next day it was all over the tabloids.
Bryson Heiress Is All Grown Up.
There was no changing her image after that. She was the sexy one forevermore, the risqué one, so my parents leaned in to it and put her on the modeling path. If she owned her image that way, they could reclaim the message. Soon, pictures of her in lingerie were on billboards in Times Square, and no one cared about that first photo. Models were allowed to be in their underwear and still maintain their dignity.
Did she want to be a model?
No one ever stopped to ask.
She didn’t go to college. She modeled until they decided it was time for her to settle down and be a political wife. Then she retired from her career to start popping out babies.
My parents had decided that I’d be the virginal sister to make up for Sophia’s misstep, and after I turned eighteen, they sent me to do a round of interviews talking about how I was waiting until marriage to have sex. The public lapped it up, but it raised the stakes considerably because they were just waiting for me to fail. I couldn’t sit next to a boy without speculation, so I avoided any kind of dating just to avoid the press circus that would follow.
I’d learned two lessons from Sophia’s first big mistake when I was fourteen. The first was that if I wanted any chance at having control of my own life, I couldn’t put a toe out of line or decisions would be made swiftly on my behalf. The second was that I couldn’t trust a soul.
I turned to find my father watching me from across the gala. He appraised everything from my hair down to the bottom of my dress, and I held my breath, certain in my panic that he’d be able to tell I was no longer wearing the corset under my dress…and that he’d somehow know the circumstances that had led to its removal. In the few minutes I’d been in my room after the boathouse, I’d checked and double-checked that every pearl in my hair was still perfectly in place, but I still had to fight the urge to lift my hand to smooth my flawless curls as he studied me.
He finally gave me a tight smile and inclined his head in approval. I exhaled slowly, too nervous to feel any real relief.
I’d never been in this situation before, had never let him down over something serious. It was…terrifying. He wouldn’t physically hurt me, but there were far worse things than broken bones.
He hadn’t explicitly said it, but if this guy decided he didn’t want to marry me, my father would punish me with something far worse.
I almost blew it over my stupid feelings! What if the random guy hadn’t been there to save my ass?
As the minutes ticked by, I found myself watching the periphery of the party, wondering if I’d see Mr. Dark and Dangerous. Every time a server passed with a tray of drinks, I checked to see if it was him. As though I’d have to look hard to find someone who reminded me of Jareth the Goblin King in this crowd.
Was I hoping I’d see him or hoping I wouldn’t?
Why was I even thinking of him when there were far more important things to worry about?
“Trying to find him?” my father asked, appearing at my side.
I blinked, realizing he meant his prospective new ally, the man I was supposed to be focused on tonight. I pasted a smile on my face, making sure I kept my tone light. “How can I find him when you won’t tell me who I’m looking for?”
He chuckled like this was a fun game and not my life he was toying with. “I think you’ll know him when you see him. He’ll be here soon.”
“Can you tell me anything about him so I can be prepared to charm him?” My stomach clenched as I bit the words out around chattering teeth.
“He’s got more money than anyone else here, and I’m told he’s good-looking.” He nodded to someone from security. “Why don’t you go on to the Kennedy Room, and I’ll bring him to meet you, give you a little privacy that way.”
Privacy . I almost laughed.
I kissed him on the cheek automatically. “Yes, Daddy.”
He stopped me as I started to walk away. “Sometimes he can be direct, speaks his mind. Show me you can be a Bryson woman and bite your tongue. I know you won’t disappoint me, sugar.”
I exhaled tightly and nodded, my entire body shaking.
When I got to the private banquet room he’d directed me to wait in, I didn’t know how to wait. First impressions were everything.
Should I stand? Sit at a table?
When the rising swell of fear felt like it would drown me, and I wanted to run, I forced myself to go to the bar against the wall and make a drink instead. Maybe he wouldn’t be so bad.
The door on the far side of the room opened and closed. I craned to see if it was a member of the staff checking on me and nearly dropped the bottle of gin I’d just picked up when I saw Mr. Dangerous.
He stood there in an immaculate tuxedo, his blonde hair pulled back into a bun. The tux couldn’t hide the tattoos on his hands or the glint of his lip ring, though it made him look more refined, almost civilized. But something lethal lurked beneath that veneer.
I was stunned into silence, standing there staring at him mutely.
His grin nearly reduced me to a puddle on the floor. “You weren’t expecting me?”