Chapter 1
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Princess for sale to a good home.
December
Months later…
“And that’s why we’ve decided—” My father’s voice drifts out of my brain while I sit, princess, in my bed and peer out at the autumn world beyond my window. The chill settling into my bones proves—yet again—that this house is way too big.
If I were with Wynnter…in his cabin…in his arms…
Maybe then I’d be warm.
Dazed, I let the scene take hold. A crackling fire. My Wynn wrapping me up in a blanket and pulling me onto his lap. His low, rough voice fills my head as he kisses my neck and asks if I like that. Pliant as ever in these fantasies I use to keep me sane, I beg him for more.
Because it’s never enough.
Never, ever, enough.
“Devina!” My mother’s sharp tone cuts into the picture of Wynnter plunging me onto my back on his couch and warming me, one kiss at a time. “Honey. Are you listening to us?”
I blink at my parents, finding cross expressions upon stern faces. “I…” I focus on my mother for any hints of what’s been happening, but the stretched texture of one-too-many Botox appointments makes my stomach tight. “I’m sorry. I got…distracted.”
Her brows knit, unnaturally, too few wrinkles between them. “Oh, Devina. What are we going to do with you?” Motherly, she crosses my room and pulls me into a hug. She heaves a sigh, thin fingers slipping through my hair. “Please pay attention. We’re talking about your future.”
Right. My future. Very important, that. Very…not filled with wynntertime kisses that devolve into all sorts of other things.
Heart sinking, I barely register my father coming to join the hug until his strong arms are scooping us both up in an effort to lift us an inch off the ground.
It’d be easy to lift just my mother, but my presence here makes it a touch impossible for him.
Nevertheless, when he fails to get me off the floor, he still taps a kiss to my head.
I giggle, and he smiles. “Paying attention now, princess?”
“Yes, Daddy. Sorry again.”
“It’s all right. As I was saying, we’ve arranged to have you listed on a site called Eligible. The interface allows us to outline exactly what we’re looking for in your partner, and all participants are professionally curated.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
“Devina…” My mother cups my face in her hand, and I miss the days in my childhood when she seemed more…
human and her face looked more like mine.
Still, her eyes…her eyes are ever gentle, and I try only to look at them.
“It’s okay, darling,” she assures. “This isn’t anything so elaborate as an arranged marriage.
It will be your choice in the end. We’re just… ”
“Skimming the pond,” my father finishes for her. “We’re making sure the only options are the cream of the crop for you.”
“Oh,” I whisper. “I…don’t know what to say.”
“Is it all right?” my mother asks, earnest. “I know we did this without talking to you first, but we honestly didn’t expect our submission to go through so quickly. It’s quite competitive and elite, developed by someone who goes by an odd alias.”
My father’s chest pumps with pride. “I bet the curators took one look at our pretty girl, saw how excellent her background was, and accelerated her acceptance.”
My…photo is on a posh dating site?
That’s…
I swallow, and a bitter film coats the back of my tongue.
…something.
Subdued, I say, “What exactly do I have to do?”
Delighted, my mother claps her hands together. “We’ll let you know when a promising suitor takes interest, then we can arrange for the two of you to meet. Once the interest is mutual, we can proceed with the arrangements for a wedding.”
My shoulders slump. “That…quickly?”
“There’s no real use in wasting time.” My father messes with something on his phone. “Marriage is just a partnership. We’ll be sure only to pick men who meet the values worth prioritizing.”
So…an ambitious, hard-working, corporate man, invested in climbing ladders, making heirs, and having a supportive wife at home to raise the next generation even though that generation will hardly ever see him and—
“Oh. Hold on. I have to take this, my girls.” My father kisses each of us on the forehead, then turns and presses a button on his earpiece.
Defeated, I drag my attention back to the window, watching the colorful leaves beyond the glass fly through the breeze.
“Devina.” My mother’s hand lands on my back. “It’s going to be okay, darling. Marriage is just…” She releases a breath. “It’s not a big deal. You just focus on finding a man that reminds you of your father. He’s a good man. He works hard and provides for us, you know that, but he’s also gentle.”
“Gentle,” I echo, and in my skull, Wynnter has my arms pinned to wall and a fist around my throat. His wolfish smile is anything but gentle when he asks me if I like that, baby?
“He cares,” my mother continues. “It’s rare to find a man like him at this level in the world. But we’re going to do our best for you, okay?”
They’re going to do their best…to find some sparkling, rich man with an agenda in want of a trophy wife that he’ll at least treat like a human being instead of a breeding dog.
Woo. What a life ahead of me.
Nevertheless, I force a smile and hug my mother. “Thank you. I appreciate everything you and Dad do. I’ll try not to be too shy whenever I meet whoever you find.”
“That’s all we can ask for, darling. Don’t settle. You’re young still. You have time. So be draconic in your decision. Only ever accept the best.” Pulling back, she taps my cheek, offers a tight smile, and leaves me to my thoughts.
Routinely, those thoughts devolve, and—in my mind—I find myself shyly sitting in a marriage meeting with Wynnter.
The edge of cruel disregard in him suggests we’ve not known each other as long as we have.
He’s meeting me, for the first time, so he’s treating me in the way I see him treat strangers—with terse, but polite, indifference.
His suit buttons strain when he sits, and I’m keenly aware of how tight his clothes looks on his broad frame.
“What are you looking at?” I whisper, pretending to be gruff.
Immediately, I drop my eyes from the window and whisper, “N-nothing.”
In my mind, he snarls, and I bite my lip.
Hard, the Wynn in my imagination states, I’m looking for an obedient wife. Someone who doesn’t ask questions and does what they’re told.