34. Cassie
CASSIE
I ended up selecting a long floral lace dress, cream-colored with pretty pink roses and a sweetheart neckline.
Tor wanted me to wear something shorter, but once I got in the fitting room, I found myself absolutely refusing to wear anything even remotely short the first time I’m really “meeting” his victim-blaming parents.
I know he wants this dinner to go well, and I also know if they look at me wrong, I’ll blow a fuse, so I’m trying to plan ahead and defuse any potential situations before we come across them.
Tor’s rose metaphor inspired me when I was selecting my dress. I decided to go all in with the sweetness factor and picked out a matching headband with pink roses on it to wear as well.
Unfortunately, my pretty gold sandals do not match the look of this dress, so Shaley and I hit one more shop on the way home to look for shoes.
I find a pair of mules with floral mesh and a peek-a-boo toe so I can still showcase my pedicure.
They don’t match my dress precisely, but I think they’re beautiful and I want them, so I decide it’s close enough.
Tor meets me at my place to get ready.
I keep my makeup pretty simple, subtle eye shadow and mascara, a pretty mauve lip gloss that matches my dress. I’ll have to be strong and resist the allure of Tor’s lips because if he kisses me before we get there, he’s going to destroy it.
He looks so handsome in a pair of black dress slacks with a belt and a dusty rose shirt under a casual black dinner jacket.
His shirt matches the mauvy color of the roses on my dress, but where the lace of my dress is creamy like a tarnished white, he’s wearing mostly black.
We complement each other well. He’s just dark where I’m light.
My dress ties in the back instead of zipping, probably because the looseness or tightness will vary by bust size. It’s too complicated to do without looking, so I lift my hair and back toward him. “Will you tie me up?”
“Whenever you want,” he answers. Then, after a beat, he teases, “Oh, you meant the dress.”
I crack a smile. “The tie’s pretty intricate. Sorry. The dress was pretty enough that I overlooked it.”
“You know I like a challenge.” His fingers deliberately graze my back and send pleasant tingles everywhere. “Damn, this is complicated. Got a fucking pulley system going on back here.”
I laugh. “Listen, my boobs are gonna look great.”
“They always do,” he says, tightening the bodice. “I feel like I’m doing this wrong. I’m supposed to be taking your clothes off, not covering you up.”
“Hey, if you want to skip family dinner, I’m down. Take it off me, and we’ll go get in bed instead.”
He kisses the ball of my shoulder as he finishes tying the back of my dress. “You make a tempting offer, but I’m afraid we’ve put this off as long as we can.”
“We can put it off longer. We can do anything we set our minds to,” I joke, dropping my hair and arranging it so I can put on the headband. Once it’s on, I do a little spin for Tor. “How do I look?”
He catches my waist, pulling me close and teasing, “Like my perfect little Stepford wife.”
“Don’t!” I put my hand up to block my lips as he leans in. “Lip gloss. We can’t kiss until after dinner.”
He scowls. “I didn’t agree to that.”
I laugh, playfully swatting him away, then turning to leave the bathroom. “You can make it a couple of hours without a kiss. We both can. We won’t die.”
“Do you have the science to back that up? Doesn’t feel legit to me.”
“Now that you mentioned Stepford Wives, I kinda want to watch the movie. If we get back early enough tonight, we should watch it. I’ll stay in costume and make us some popcorn.”
His eyebrows rise with interest as he follows me out. “Hey, if you want to play the dutiful little Stepford wife, why stop at popcorn? We should do it tomorrow instead. You can make me dinner and rub my shoulders. Keep the roleplay going all night.”
“I know you’re trying to provoke me, but that kinda sounds fun. I’m on board for themed movie nights.”
“As long as I get to pick your costumes,” he says, his teasing smile making my stomach flutter.
Sadly, the butterflies are banished, and haunted moths take their place a short time later as we draw closer to Tor’s house.
I’ve never been to this one.
I’m not even sure what road it’s on, but I assume we’re getting close when he turns down a street I’ve never even seen before in my eighteen years of living in Holbrook.
It’s called Evergreen Lane, and it doesn’t have a regular street sign like every other road in town. This one is oddly stylish, a brown plate with bright white lettering and an ornate frame around it.
I grimace as we pass it, my gaze flickering to the NO OUTLET sign attached to a stylish light post.
This has to be it.
“I didn’t even know this road was here,” I tell him.
“Most people don’t. My family owns all the property on it, so there’s no reason for anyone to be here unless they’re delivering something.”
Fucking patricians.
He knows how I feel, so I don’t bother voicing my disgust.
My gaze jumps to the immediate differences. At the mouth of the street on either side of the road are landscaped islands with stone pillars and wrought iron gates going right up to the edge of the road. The message is clear. Go away. You don’t belong here.
Message received.
I glance over at Tor. “You sure you don’t want to do Stepford night instead? If you turn around now, I’ll let you do anything you want to me tonight.”
He smirks, shaking his head at my bribes.
When we don’t heed the unspoken fuck off from the decorative gates, the street assumes we’re meant to be here, and the rest of it is lined with big beautiful trees and stylish light posts.
The street curves, and the sidewalk is immaculately maintained even though I know this street must be as old as the town. Everything is well maintained.
Huge houses sit on large chunks of land, their perfect green lawns and gardens impeccably manicured despite the size.
Several of them have massive ponds in the front yards.
When we reach the end of the road, it’s circular.
To the left, just before we enter the cul-de-sac, is a long winding driveway that disappears behind a thick row of trees.
To the right is vacant land. And directly in front of us at the very end of the road is a sprawling estate set back on the seemingly endless property.
Brick pillars and wrought iron surround the property, and a tall wrought-iron gate with a W on it sits at the front of the driveway.
I swallow, much more intimidated by this ungodly mansion than the lake house. No wonder Tor and his brother decided to live there.
This property is unbelievable, especially to be located in a little town like ours, but I can’t imagine living somewhere like this.
Tor stops the car at the entry gates to roll down his window and punch in a code. A moment later, the wrought-iron gates open, and I feel like I’m about to meet Bruce Wayne.
The driveway is long, as if to ward off anyone daring to enter, to give them a chance to turn back.
I would love to, but Tor pulls forward, turning the wheel and navigating around a fountain.
A fucking fountain.
He must feel me vibrating over here, because his mouth tugs up faintly and he asks, “What do you think?”
“I have nothing to say.”
His amusement deepens. “You always have something to say.”
“Not tonight. Tonight my mantra is, ‘If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.’”
“So I should expect to carry the conversation,” he says dryly.
I would offer a smile, but I’m too distracted by the blue Bentley sitting in the driveway. I haven’t truly met the man, but I’d bet money it belongs to Tor’s dad.
I draw in a deep breath, filling up with dread as Tor kills the engine.
I really, really don’t want to do this.
Tor knows that, so he places a hand on my thigh and gives it a supportive squeeze.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. I must really like you,” I tell him.
He laughs a little as he opens the car door. “I hope so.”
My heart starts beating faster as I open my door. My heel hits the pavement, and I smooth down my dress. I’m already self-conscious, and I haven’t even seen anybody yet.
It’s a little bit like the New York feeling when I first stepped on the sidewalk and felt transported to a foreign new land, but this time, I’m trapped in a broken fairy tale, standing outside the lair of the evil villains with no choice but to go in and face them.
Tor takes my hand, and I hesitate for a second, but when he tugs gently, I follow him to the front door.
My stomach is already aching.
I’m hoping he’ll knock and wait for someone to answer to buy me a little more time, but of course he doesn’t. This is his family’s house. He grew up here. He opens the door and steps inside.
The tension in my shoulders pulls tighter. Forget his Stepford night shoulder rub; I’m going to need one.
The queasiness takes hold as soon as the door closes behind me. Everything about the journey to this point has felt like a warning that I’m not welcome here, an invitation to turn around and make a better choice, but this is the point of no return.
I’m in the belly of the beast now.
The entryway is large and mostly empty, with a mirror on the wall and a console table beneath it. A potted orchid sits on top with a delicate lace doily underneath. Just beyond that is an archway leading to a blue salon. It’s full of furniture but no people.
“This way,” Tor says, leading me down a hall beside the stairs.
“I’m starting to see why you related so much to Gatsby,” I mutter.
He smirks at me over his shoulder, but continues to the end of the hall. It opens to a massive kitchen, where a woman I don’t recognize stands in a white chef’s coat, preparing food at the massive island.
“Hi, Paula,” Tor says casually.
She flashes him a smile. “They’re in the family room.”
He thanks her, then turns around, leading me back the way we came.