Chapter 7
seven
ROSE
After that confrontation, I spent four days at Cassia’s, evading my dad and work. Her 2,500 square foot, open-concept loft is all monochromatic simplicity. The brick walls have been painted white. The rugs covering the tiled floor are sweeps of black, slate, and white. The kitchen cabinets are dark gray with snowy marble countertops. The appliances are stainless steel. The paintings on the wall and the furniture are all devoid of color, which is perfect for my gloomy mood.
Aside from catching her up with everything that’s gone down, we’ve spent the rest of our time talking, avoiding all things to do with my dad or Dare. But I can’t keep pretending like my life isn’t suddenly on fire.
My phone vibrates across the onyx coffee table. Although the scowl that’s taken up residence on my face has given me a headache, I can’t seem to stop glaring. Not even when Cassia spins away from her computer screens and gives my device a pointed look .
We both watch it rattle across the sleek table until it goes to voicemail. Dad has left a few messages, but I’ve only been able to listen to one, where he insisted we meet to figure out the prenuptial agreements before we meet with Eric next week. I haven’t been able to bring myself to listen to the rest, but judging by the transcriptions, he isn’t going to let up.
Cassia’s frost-blue eyes rove over my face. Her cinnamon red hair is piled on top of her head, in a messy bun I could never pull off, and even in her comfy clothes, she looks put together. I, on the other hand, look like a complete mess without makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes.
“Are you okay?” She takes a sip of her wine.
“Not really.” Grabbing my glass from the coffee table, I drink the last drops. The buzz in my stomach isn’t as soothing as I hoped. “I know I keep saying it, but he broke his promise and it hurts.” I study my hands, fighting tears and the flush that threatens to crawl up my neck. Crying in front of other people isn’t something I’m used to, and while I feel safe with Cassia, it’s still hard to let them fall.
“Of course, it hurts,” Cassia says quickly. “He’s your dad, and it’s not like he promised to take you for ice cream and forgot. Arranging a marriage for you when he specifically said he wouldn’t is really messed up.”
It’s nice to have my feelings validated instead of ridiculed. “Thanks, Cassia.” I swipe at my damp cheeks.
Grabbing the wine bottle, she refills my glass before topping hers off. “Do you want me to beat him up?” She always knows what to say to make me laugh, even when I’m feeling terrible.
Chuckling, I shake my head and run a hand through my hair. “A shakedown isn’t a bad idea, but I think the only way out of the arrangement is to find a better solution to the problem he’s trying to solve.”
“Which is finding a way to get Dare out of the company?”
I nod. “Yup.”
“Maybe I should beat him up instead?” Cassia asks.
I laugh and give her five-foot-two frame a once-over. She may be short, but she’s tough. If anyone can scare Dare, it might be her.
I grin. “I freaking love you.”
“Aw, I love you too, Rosie Posie.”
“Not the nickname.” I groan.
“I know you don’t like it, but you love me, so you’ll put up with it.” She claps her hands. “What’s the plan?”
“Disappear into the ether?” I suggest.
“And leave me alone on this miserable planet? Absolutely not.” Cassia taps her finger on her lips. “Oh my god!” She hops off her chair and scurries over to the couch, plopping down next to me and clutching my arm. “NYC Socialite published the Most Eligible Singles today!”
My lips turn down. “I don’t see how that relates.”
She shushes me and gestures to my laptop resting on the arm of the couch with all the excitement of a new puppy. “Pull up the website.”
“Okay, bossy.” I take another sip of wine to help brace myself and set the glass aside. The sleek case of my laptop is cool against my fingers as I open it, waking up the computer as dread settles into my stomach. Last year’s edition was especially brutal. I don’t know that I’m ready for another round of all the ways Rose Miller sucks .
My fingers fly across the smooth keyboard. I hesitate before hitting the enter key, take a fortifying breath, and submit the URL. The website loads in a matter of seconds. Vibrant colors and flashy fonts fill my screen. Using the menu bar, I navigate to the section dedicated to the yearly list of singles. Breath held tightly in my chest, I scroll through the listings, noticing a few people Cassia and I went to school with.
I quickly scan over the commentary, knowing this first page is always the nicest. The farther down the list, the more ruthless the analysis is. I didn’t expect to be in the top six, but my heart still sinks as I select the arrow to go to the next page.
“It’s going to suck,” Cassia warns me. “But you’ll understand once we get there.”
“Oh, god,” I groan. “I already hate it.” Sighing, I remind myself that NYC Socialite caters to the masses and that hate usually gets more attention than positivity. Whatever they say doesn’t matter.
My cursor floats over the number five. The very last page? Ouch. Right, you knew they were going to talk shit again. It’s not like it can be much worse than last year.
“Here goes nothing,” I grumble, clicking to the next section.
MOST LIKELY TO DIE ALONE.
Jesus Christ. This is definitely worse than last year. My lips twisting to the side, I try to ignore the sting of rejection that accompanies the flood of insecurity. Some words from the narrative jump out at me: Bitch. Overweight. Can’t keep a man to save herself from drowning. Fuck me. This year, the writers are especially cruel. And to make the hit worse, they used big, bold letters for the title which hovers above my picture and... “Oh, what the fuck?”
Cassia sucks air between her teeth. “Yeah, so, it’s pretty fucked up, but look! You and Dare, side by side.” She scoots closer and offers me my wine glass .
I take it and sip, scowling at the brooding picture of Dare. His hand cups his chin, tattoos on full display, and I can’t help feeling like the glare on his face is meant for me. “So, we both suck?”
Laughing, Cassia shakes her head. “No. You’re both single.”
My gaze jumps to her. “You’re not suggesting?—”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” Cassia taps the laptop screen, the tip of her nail hitting the middle of Dare’s forehead. “Hear me out. Your dad wants a way to take Dare down, right?”
I take another drink. “This is a bad idea.”
“But what if it’s not?” she says quickly. “Eric is disgusting and, honestly, marrying Dare might be better.”
“Marry him?!” I shriek. “I thought you meant date, but marry? Cassia, that’s insane.”
She smirks. “Is it? Or is it a stroke of genius?” She drops her head back onto the cushion and reaches her hand up, sweeping it over her head. “Picture the headlines. Rose Miller marries Darian Richardson . Rose Miller takes every last dime from Darian Richardson in a nasty divorce. Darian Richardson spotted sobbing on a park bench. ”
That makes me giggle.
Cassia nudges me. “See? And here’s the kicker— Darian Richardson forced to turn over shares of JD Miller & Co .”
As much as the idea is a little out there, I can see where she’s coming from. My gaze roves over the screen. Our pictures are side by side. We actually look good together. But marriage? I mean, Dare is definitely the lesser of two evils. Eric will probably try to break me the first chance he gets. Dare is scary, but it’s not the same. I’m not afraid Dare will rape me. Hell, I’m not even worried about him killing me.
My heart is racing as fast as my mind, making my hands tremble. I tuck them under my legs and stare at Dare’s glowering face, really mulling over the idea.
All the rumors say he’s a cold-blooded murderer. My gut is telling me something different. I still think he’s ruthless and generally terrible, but the way he reacts when I mention his sisters or parents is telling. Dare cares about them. Why would he deny killing his parents with so much conviction if he hated them?
There’s more to that story I don’t understand, but that’s beside the point. He’s a pain in the company’s ass, and a marriage to Dare might just solve the Eric problem. It would get me close to Vista Holdings and the best access to insider information, so we can finally take Dare’s shares and kick him off the board.
The question is, why would Dare agree?
“The bakery!”
Cassia nods. “I like your thinking. We should order a cake because I’m a genius.”
I burst out laughing. “No,” I say, catching my breath. “I mean, Frank’s Bakery. What if I hold it over his head?”
“Like a carrot.” Cassia hums as she sips her wine. “Or a gun.”
I pat her leg. “Settle down, killer. The bakery could be the leverage to get him to agree to marry me.”
“I mean, it’s worth a shot, right?”
“Anything is worth a shot if it means avoiding a marriage to Eric Vanderbelt.”
She shudders. “Agreed. So, when will you talk to Dare?”
I gulp down the rest of my wine. I’m going to need all the liquid courage I can get. “Can you still virtually disable automated locks?”
“Of course.” Her eyebrows jump. “Wait. You want to break into his house? ”
I shrug. “How else am I supposed to ask him to marry me?”
“Who says romance is dead?” She rolls her eyes but heads to her desk. “This is a really bad idea.”
She’s right. It’s probably dangerous, too, but if my brief encounters with Eric are any indication, I don’t want to be his wife, and I’m willing to take big risks to keep that from happening. Plus, if I don’t go see Dare tonight, with wine fueling my confidence, I might chicken out.
“Desperate times.” I join her and watch her work her magic, focusing on how amazing she is and not the dread swirling in my gut. I’m about to enter the lair of the beast. Here’s hoping I make it out alive.