31. Hazel
Chapter 31
Hazel
R unning my hands over the ruffled skirt of my dress, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the inevitable judgment and parental displeasure I received every time I visited my parents.
“Ready for battle?” Seb asked. He had offered to drive me to dinner, knowing better than to hope for an invitation.
They weren’t exactly a loving and welcoming bunch, my family. We were pulling into their drive, much to my displeasure. The drive had passed by with Seb and I taking turns picking music and teasing one another about our choices.
I only picked the cheesy disco music to irritate him. Instead, it had the opposite effect, and he was dancing in his seat the entire drive to my family’s home.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I sighed, grabbing my clutch bag.
“Just call me when you’re ready to come home,” Seb said, leaning over and quickly pecking my cheek. I wanted more than a peck, but we both knew there was a good chance one of my parents or their staff was lurking around, watching us.
He called the Kingswood pack house home .
I suppressed a grin at that. Home. He wasn’t wrong. The pack house felt more like a home than any family house or dorm I had lived in.
“I’ll text you.”
His smile warped into a frown as he looked at the front of the house. “Is it just me, or are there a lot of cars parked out here?”
“There are,” I groaned. “I bet they’re business associates of my parents. I knew they wouldn’t ask me to come over unless they were trying to impress some work friends.”
“Sounds like you’re in for a fun night. Just say the word, and I’ll abscond with you. We can go get ice cream.”
“Don’t tempt me with ice cream! That’s just cruel.”
“I never claimed to play fair. Go, endure your parents for a few hours, and I’ll take you for ice cream after. How does that sound?”
“Deal!” I opened the truck door, hopping out to face the inevitable.
I approached the large front door flanked by two white columns, noting my distinct lack of emotion as I trudged up the stairs. There should have been some emotion upon returning to my family home, but instead, I just felt… empty.
The entire building could burn down tomorrow, and I wouldn’t shed a tear.
“Hazel!” My mother answered the door, wearing a skintight cocktail dress that probably cost more than most people earned in a year. Her fake blonde hair was perfectly blow dried, not a single strand out of place. “Couldn’t you have put on a little makeup?” she asked in an exasperated voice.
“I did, Mother. It’s just not heavy.”
“It’s too late to do anything about this now, you’ll have to do. We’ve got people for you to meet. Come,” she instructed, throwing my coat toward a staff member and dragging me into the large reception room. “You’re already late.”
I wanted to defend myself—after all I had turned up at the time she had told me—but I knew such protests would fall on deaf ears.
For a brief moment, I wondered why she was pushing me toward the larger reception room instead of the main living room, but that was answered when I saw the sheer number of people milling around the room.
Several staff members wearing black and white were walking around the room, carrying trays of appetizers and glasses of champagne. My parents had pulled out all the stops.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were hosting?” I asked.
“I did! Now, smile, people are watching,” she insisted, looping her arm with mine.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Well, we can discuss that later.” She waved me off, dragging me into the room. It was decorated with multiple bouquets of fresh flowers, and there was a gift table on the far side of the room.
Why on earth was there a gift table? We weren’t celebrating anything.
My father appeared, a glass of champagne in hand, a broad grin on his face. Business must have been going well, since he wasn’t usually a smiler.
“Hazel! My darling,” he greeted warmly, pulling me in for an embrace, kissing my cheek. It was difficult to hide my shock. I could count on one hand the number of times my father had hugged me.
Something was up, but I had no idea what.
Pulling away from me, my father started tapping on his glass, getting everyone’s attention. My mother stood on the other side of me, once again looping her arm with mine, beaming.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up, my heart rate increasing. My fight-or-flight instinct was screaming, danger, run fast, run far!
“Hello, all! Thank you so much for joining us tonight,” my mother said in a simpering voice.
The possibilities started running through my mind. They were opening a new charitable foundation—I used the word charitable loosely there. Maybe my father had finally decided to run for office, and they expected me to be the perfect Stepford daughter while he did that. Another family I didn’t recognize stood next to my father, a set of parents and their son, who looked slimy. He was giving me a look I think he genuinely believed was seductive, but honestly just looked creepy.
My mother continued. “We are so happy you could all come and celebrate the joining of our families!”
A business merger?
Cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
Please let it be a business merger.
I knew they wanted to marry me off one day, but I at least expected to have a conversation about it first. I also thought they would introduce me to the guy they were going to marry off to before they announced it publicly.
My stomach dropped and my throat tightened. That was why there was a gift table.
“We are so pleased that so many of our nearest and dearest could come and celebrate our daughter’s engagement,” my father said.
They were engagement gifts.
Because, apparently, I was engaged.
Would have been nice if someone had told me.
“With the joining of our families, we will also be incorporating our businesses as families, and we are looking forward to a bright and happy future together.” My father continued raising his glass of champagne toward the other family with a shit-eating grin.
My mother’s grip on my arm was so tight, it had started to cut off my circulation. I needed to get the hell out of there, but I had no idea how.
“What the fuck?” I snarled out of the corner of my mouth as people applauded for a moment before going back to their mingling. My father went over to my apparent fiancé’s family and started talking animatedly with them, they were walking over to us.
I needed to escape.
Now.
“Manners, Hazel. Your father has found you an appropriate suitor whose business interests align with ours. It is the best you’re going to get. Now, do not embarrass us,” she snarled.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I whispered to my mother. The last thing I wanted to do was cause a scene. I knew all too well that would infuriate my mother. She had a habit of being completely insufferable when she didn’t get her way. If I could slip away without making a scene, then she was less likely to go nuclear on me.
Given the severity of the situation, though, I wasn’t opposed to making a scene, if need be.
“You can’t just walk off. This is your engagement party.” Her tone was harsh, but she had a smile plastered on her face, so from the outside, it looked like we were having a serene and happy conversation. A loving mother talking and smiling with her daughter at her engagement party.
What a load of crap.
I knew my parents weren’t the best of people. They were judgmental and selfish, and I accepted that, but I never believed they would stoop so low as to throw an engagement party for me without me even being aware that I was engaged.
“I can go pull myself together, or I’ll start screaming right here in front of your friends. What would you rather I do?” I snarled back.
She gave me a harsh, withering glare and jerked her head toward the door, essentially giving me permission to go.
Darting out of the room, I made a beeline for the downstairs bathroom, slamming the door as I entered, turning so my back was pressed against the door.
What. The. Fuck.
This was a new low.
My parents were throwing an engagement party for me when I was already dating four other guys and was pregnant. Granted, they didn’t know I was pregnant, or that I was dating the guys, but if they did know that little titbit of information, they probably would have locked me in the basement, so not telling them was for my own safety.
Pulling my phone out of my clutch, I quickly messaged the group chat.
Hazel:
Someone save me. It’s an engagement party.
Cormac:
Who’s getting engaged?
Hazel:
ME! APPARENTLY I’M ENGAGED?
Cormac:
What?!
Roman:
Duchess, get the fuck out of there right now.
Phillip:
Who’s this mystery fiancé? I’m going to punch him.
Roman:
I’m with you there, Philly.
Sebastian:
No way. I’ll be there ASAP.
Cormac:
Where are you right now?
Hazel:
I’m hiding in the bathroom. I turned up for a family dinner, and it ended up being my engagement party??? I don’t even know who the guy is.
Roman:
Hide until we get there.
Hazel:
My mother won’t allow that.
Sebastian:
Mingle and play nice, but DON’T let that fucker they’re calling your fiancé touch you.
Cormac:
No touchy!
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the phone screen. There was no way in hell I was going to allow a stranger to touch me, that was obvious.
Someone knocked on the door, making me wince. I knew exactly who it was before they even opened their mouth.
“Hazel!” my mother hissed through the door.
I took a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom, where I was met with her livid face. It was an anger that was concealed. To most people, her face looked happy, but I knew my mother, and I could see the muscle under her right eye starting to twitch. The tense way she held her jaw. She really wasn’t pleased. “You have been in there for far too long. Come on, you must socialize.”
“I don’t think I should, considering I’m not even aware that I was engaged!” I hissed back. We were in a hallway away from guests, but several could see us as they passed the entryway.
“Your father and I have given you a very good life, and we have done everything for you. This is the one thing we want you to do. It is a small thing, and it is for your own good.”
A small thing? My mother was referring to my engagement to a stranger as a small thing?
Before she could even attempt to pull me into the reception room, the sound of car doors slamming could be heard from outside, and I winced.
“Sweetness!” a familiar voice bellowed, throwing the door open. Something deep in my chest relaxed when I heard that voice.
Breathe.
You’ll survive this.
Maybe.
Standing in the doorway to my childhood home were four very pissed off, very sweet alphas, who I happened to have very strong feelings for.