Chapter 5
Bea
I pry my eyes open and immediately slam them shut again. Fuck. My skull throbs like someone’s taken a jackhammer to it, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
‘Stay out of trouble, little mouse.’
The memory of Noah’s breath still tickles my ear; his voice dripped ice even as his large body radiated comforting heat on that balcony.
I press my palms against my temples, trying to squeeze out the image of him pulling back just when I leaned in. The man stood up for me at dinner, practically carried me to my room, and then looked at me like I was dirt under his shoe.
Daggers of sunlight pierce through the gap in the curtains, making me wince. I fumble for my phone on the nightstand, knocking over an empty water glass.
The screen shows nothing—no texts, no missed calls from Maeve. All the messages I sent yesterday still show “Undelivered.” Outside my window, palm leaves litter the resort grounds, but the sky shines clear blue. The storm came and went quickly, so why such a delay on her arrival?
My phone drops onto the sheets. Maeve should be here by now.
Maeve, who escaped our parents’ suffocating grip years ago.
Who’s living a life that I can only begin to hope for.
She’s the oldest of us two, and she should have been the first to be married off.
But she ran, leaving me to fulfill all of her duties on top of mine.
What would she say if she knew that my stomach does a triple flip when I see Noah King, days before my scheduled wedding to his brother?
The door rattles with three signature sharp knocks.
“Beatrice? Breakfast. Our room. Now.” Mother’s voice could freeze hellfire, and it usually does.
I drag myself to the bathroom mirror. Oh god. Purple half-moons hang beneath my bloodshot eyes, and yesterday’s humiliation has left unwashable blotchy patches across my cheeks.
Cold water on my face does nothing to help, so I jump into the shower and run water on the coldest setting. Mother is already mad, and a few extra minutes can’t make it much worse.
I yank a white sundress over my head, the soft cotton falling just below my knees—nothing like the designer cocktail dresses Mother keeps pushing into my suitcase.
This is my little rebellion against her reign.
Then I slide my feet into flat sandals because I can’t handle heels today and take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders like a soldier heading into battle.
Mother’s lips pinch together. “Twenty-seven minutes late. And in that dress. With that hair!”
I slide past her into the suite, pulling my still wet, loose hair over my shoulder. The overwhelming scent of fresh orchids mixed with buttered toast and eggs makes me gag, and I barely hold it inside. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the ocean, sunlight bouncing off silver serving trays.
Father’s thumb scrolls his phone screen, not bothering to look up. Which is not surprising since I never was a person worthy of his interest.
And then I notice someone who doesn’t belong here. Sprawled in a chair in the breakfast nook, with one ankle crossed over his knee and a steaming mug between his hands. His dark and unreadable eyes catch mine, and I instantly realize that it’s too soon to see him after last night.
My stomach flips as I halt in the doorway. “Why is he here?” Because he is sure not part of the family. At least not yet. And breakfast is considered to be a private affair.
Father’s thumb stops mid-scroll, and he moves to the table, followed by Mother. “Arrangements. Sit.”
The only empty chair is next to Noah. Our knees bump as I sit. I yank mine back, but not before feeling the heat of him through my thin dress. His mouth twitches at one corner as the muscle in his jaw flexes. Good. I’m not the only one affected.
Father slams his phone onto the table, making the poor orchids tremble. “Two days until the ceremony. Your sister’s ferry should have arrived hours ago. Your dress fitting is at two.”
More like two days ago but who’s counting.
“Hard to have a wedding without a groom,” I say, not realizing I’m speaking my thoughts out loud.
Mother’s fingers fly to her neck, twisting her three-strand pearl necklace. “Lower your voice. The staff will hear you.”
“God forbid,” I mumble, feeling the bile rising up my throat.
Mother tightens her grip on the fine handle of her coffee cup—a tell that she’s about to attack. “That dress is inappropriate. Fix your hair before the Kings see you like this.”
Across the table, Father finally shifts his eyes to look at me coldly.
Noah—who is a King and has already seen me—studies the steam rising from his mug like it’s the most entertaining thing in his tiny world.
“Where’s Maeve’s ferry?” I ask, and my voice seems much steadier than my hands. “Shouldn’t someone be concerned at this point?”
“Your sister understands family obligation,” Mother says, dabbing her lips with linen. “Unlike some.”
I grab a coffee pot from the middle of the table and pour myself a cup. “Funny how the missing sister gets the praise.”
Father’s hand slaps the table. “Enough.” A vein pulses at his temple, his face darkening to the shade of the orchids. “I’m getting more and more convinced that the Kings are doing us a favor by taking you.”
My gaze flicks to Noah, searching for… what exactly?
The man who stood up for me last night has vanished without a trace.
The person who sits here now is more like the jerk from the lobby, someone who couldn’t be bothered if a person was dying in front of him.
The only indication that he’s not a wax statue is the tiny twitching muscle beneath his stubble that has grown even more.
“Nothing to add?” I whisper, letting my knee deliberately brush his under the table. I’m unsure why I ask him, maybe his nonchalant behavior is starting to get to me.
His flat and distant eyes meet mine as he shifts his leg away. “Not my circus.”
Father’s voice slices through the silence. “If you’d shown half your sister’s grace, we wouldn’t be in this position.”
My nails dig crescents into my palms. The room shrinks, air thinning with each breath. Noah’s silence pounds in my ears more than Father’s words do.
Alone against everyone per usual, I finally hit my no-return point. I don’t need this marriage to leave them. I don’t need this marriage to survive. I don’t need any of them.
I shove my chair back, its iron legs scream against the stone floor. “I’d rather burn in hell than be sold like livestock.”
Mother’s pearl necklace bounces against the silk of her blouse as she gasps. “After everything we’ve sacrificed—”
“Save it.” I’m storming away from the table before she finishes.
“Sit down,” Father orders, voice low and brittle, but I’m already halfway to the door. Their outraged murmurs fade behind me, and I hate that their suite is so big, it takes me forever to get to the door.
I catch Noah’s face in the reflection of the mirror in the entryway. He continues to lounge in his chair, while his dark eyes track my exit. He watches and does nothing again. So much for ‘no one should be treated this way.’ Coward.
The tiny sip of coffee I managed to get before I was ambushed sits sour in my stomach.
The volatile energy swirls in my chest, and I need to find an outlet for it before I self-combust. Finding Maeve seems like a good way to do that, so I march to the front desk where the clerk—a young man with sweat beading at his hairline—shakes his head over the reservation ledger.
“Ferries reinstated service this morning. There were already two as of now.”
And yet, my sister was not on any of them.
My heart hammers. Despite my anger toward Maeve, she’s trapped somewhere out there.
Probably alone and scared, possibly even hurt.
So I bolt down the corridor, out past the lobby’s grand glass doors, into the humid morning air.
The path to the pool is littered with shredded palm fronds and sand pocked with puddles, the backs of my legs instantly get wet from my fast walk.
I need space to think away from my messed up parents and the cowardly King. If no one wants to acknowledge Maeve’s disappearance, I’ll have to rely on myself.
The resort pool lies deserted despite the nice weather, its turquoise water rippling under a bright sky.
The edges are slick with storm runoff while fallen leaves drift across the tiles.
I pace the deck in my flip-flops, and each step fuels more anger.
My groom is missing, which is only half a problem since I don’t even know him and, therefore, don’t have any feelings about his disappearance other than mild worry.
My sister’s disappearance, on the other hand, causes way more emotions.
I’m mad at her, but I also miss her deeply.
This wedding was supposed to contain two of the brightest moments of my life: leaving my parents and seeing my sister for the first time in five years. But it looks like neither is happening.
A soft crunch behind me makes me whirl around, expecting staff but finding Noah, walking toward me with his hands shoved deep into his pockets and shoulders wound up so tight, he looks like he would win a round with a brick wall.
“What do you want?” I snap angrily, a little excited that now I have an outlet for my emotions.
He stops six feet away. “Just making sure you don’t wander the island alone after last night’s drinking.” His tone is sharper than the broken twigs underfoot.
I laugh in response, but the sound comes out harsh and hollow. “Right. Preserving my dignity for your brother.” My tone trembles on a razor’s edge between fury and despair. “Go away, Noah.”
He steps forward. “Where are you heading?”
I jerk a thumb behind my back. “Anywhere away from you.”
He glances at the debris-strewn path where hotel gardeners are already sweeping away palm husks. “Be careful. The tiles are slick.”