XXII
Tori
“A sense of humor, or mental instability?” Lola mutters beside me.
“Lola, what have I told you? It doesn’t matter what type of person you have to interact with so long as you don’t allow them to drag you down to their class,” her mother chides.
“Look at her neck. She’s clearly got problems!” Before I can respond, Lola turns to Syn. “You promised that you’d wait for me. Why did you give this girl the ring meant for me?”
Syn’s eyes are locked on mine. “That ring was meant for Victoria.”
Considering it had been my intention to push his buttons and find a way to get back at him by driving this conversation, I’m not upset that the mark around my neck has been brought up. Honestly, I’d already planned a response that made sure to imply it was there because Syn wanted to keep a tight leash on his future wife since he has a sexual asphyxiation kink.
But the last thing I’d expected to happen tonight was to find out Syn was supposed to be marrying Lola in the future.
The revelation sparks something in me, but I’m not able to give a name to it.
Nothing I’ve done or said—or planned to—has done much more than embarrass Syn tonight. I still need to go to the gala tomorrow night, and I know the most I’m going to get away with is being an unsuitable match as their future daughter-in-law.
Messing with somebody else’s love life is where I draw the line.
Shaking my head, I turn to Lola. “It’s not rea—”
“—really any of your business,” Syn says over the top of me.
“Enough.” Syn’s mother snaps. “Your fiancée looks upset. Perhaps you should take her to your room.”
I pull the cotton napkin off my lap and toss it down on the table beside my barely touched cheesecake as I stand. “That’s a good idea. Thank you for the lovely dinner,” I mutter. Not expecting Syn to follow, I hurry out of the room. I’m halfway up the stairs before he catches up to me and grabs my arm. “What are you doing?”
“Me?” Syn doesn’t stop, pulling me towards his bedroom like he expects me to run off somewhere. He only lets go once we’re inside, and the door is closed behind us. “What were you doing?” he demands.
Making sure to put a few paces before I turn back to him, I bring my hands to my hips and glare. “There’s nothing I did or said that’s any worse than what you put me through, or any less than you deserve. And if you were honestly not expecting something from me, then you are way more stupid than I thought.”
“You signed a contract,” Syn snaps.
My eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare stand there and pretend that you weren’t an absolute vindictive bastard before I put my signature on that paper. Or that you didn’t go out of your way to make sure my initiation was worse than anyone else’s.”
“Is this where you blame me again for the video being released? Because I told you that had nothing to do with me.” Syn rolls his eyes.
“Can you tell me that you never intended on doing it but that someone just beat you to it?” I fold my arms. “Because you threatened me with it enough times.”
Syn stares at me without saying anything.
At least he’s not attempting to lie.
“If your intention all along was to go down there and humiliate me, then you must have known that you wouldn’t be able to do so without incriminating yourself, otherwise you won’t be able to attend this stupid party tomorrow. What’s more, you also should have figured out that acting like you’re fucking unhinged would have everyone reacting like you did. I don’t know how your panties are in such a twist when you aren’t fucking wearing any.”
“You think that’s what I’m mad about?” I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath, releasing it slowly before I look at him again. “I don’t care if this engagement is fake: you don’t get to parade me in front of the girl you’re supposed to be marrying in the future.”
Slowly, a smirk starts to grow on Syn’s lips. He cocks his head. “You’re jealous? Of Lola?”
Whatever I’m feeling seems like it’s sitting heavily in my stomach. I’ve not had the chance to work out what it is, but it’s not jealousy.
“It’s not…” I sigh. “Syn, you might have the emotional range of a rock, but that girl—”
“Is barely seventeen.”
“—clearly thinks you two are going to get married. She’s upset. You had no right to fake an engagement when you knew she was going to be here. For the sake of a night, you could have just said I was a friend.”
Syn shakes his head in disbelief. “This is unbelievable. You’re overreacting over nothing. There’s no reason to be jealous of Lola . She’s talking shit.”
“I’m not jealous,” I snap at him.
“Then why are you getting so mad over a fake engagement? We’re not really getting married.”
This is clearly going nowhere, and I have no energy left to argue with him, especially when I won’t need to worry about any of this after tomorrow. “Synclair,” I say through gritted teeth. “Either you walk out of this room right now, or I will.”
He looks like he’s going to say something, but at the last moment, he changes his mind and just nods. Then he turns around and leaves me alone in his room.
Exhausted, I move over to the couch and sink into it. After kicking my shoes off, I curl my legs up beside me and close my eyes.
Does he really think I’m jealous?
Despite how tired I am, I don’t sleep. Instead, I turn the television on, flicking aimlessly through Netflix before eventually settling on a movie I’ve seen before and only half-watch it.
By the time the credits run, Syn still hasn’t returned. It’s late enough that I’d expect everyone to have called it a night and gone to their rooms. He’d said there was nowhere else for him to sleep, but had he just been saying that?
Against my better judgement, before I committed to taking my makeup off and changing into something to sleep in, I leave the room. Upstairs is quiet, and I have no intention of checking any of the other bedrooms, so I head downstairs and go straight to the dining room.
The room is empty, and the table has been completely cleared to wipe away any trace of the dinner party that just took place. I back out and move on to the next room, carefully opening the door. This room is also empty.
As I move from room to room, I can’t help but wonder if this really is Syn’s home. Temperature wise, each room is warm—even despite the late hour, no expense seems to be spared to heat unoccupied rooms—but at the same time, each room lacks warmth.
I almost feel sorry for Syn.
When I open the next door, I’m surprised to find there’s a light on. There’s one occupant, sitting behind a desk, but it’s not Syn. It’s his father.
He looks up, locking eyes with me. “Can I help you?”
“I’m sorry,” I quickly say. “I was looking for Syn. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“As you’re here, why don’t you come in?”
In the little time I’ve spent with James William Keyingham, the last thing I want to do is spend any more time with him, never mind alone…
“If you’re marrying my son, I think we should talk,” he adds when I hesitate.
Giving him a tight smile, I walk into his office, closing the door behind me. Then I walk up to his desk and sit down in one of the chairs opposite him.
Behind William’s desk are several tall windows. I can’t see out of them because the thick Venetian blinds have been lowered, blocking out what would likely be a magnificent view of Central Park. Just like every other room, the office has a modern feel to it, with sparsely filled shelves made of light wood, pale gray walls, and a mostly glass desk.
“I know exactly who you are,” William says, snapping my attention to him.
My heart starts to race. “You do?”
William stares at me, then the corner of his lip turns up slightly. “You think I’ve not met women like you before? Women look at my son, and they see nothing but money. If you marry my son, I promise you that the prenuptial agreement my lawyers will have drawn up will ensure that you will not be left with anything.”
I have to fight to keep the smile off my face. Syn wanted this stupid fake engagement to make sure his father doesn’t work out who I was, and somehow , that single dinner party was enough to convince him that this relationship is real?
“If you’re surprised that I’ve figured you out so quickly, don’t be. My son knows how important his future is. This is nothing more than him trying to test his boundaries.” William gets up and walks over to a chest of drawers. With his back to me, he pulls something out of it, closes the drawer, and then walks back to sit down. Then he places a stack of money on the desk in front of me.
Ten wads of cash fastened together by a paper band with $10,000 written on it, wrapped around each one. The notes are so flat and straight that they almost don’t look real.
“This is yours if you leave him tonight.”
A hundred thousand dollars.
Lawyer fees aren’t cheap, and this would go a long way…
“I’m afraid I can’t accept that.” There’s a lot more I want to say, but I figure it’s in my best interests to leave quietly. So, I stand and move away from the desk, making it all the way to the door and opening it before William speaks again.
“Has your family burnt through all your money already?”
His voice is quiet, and I’m not even sure that’s what he said, but before I can ask him to say that again, someone grabs my arm.
“Victoria? What are you doing here?” Syn asks me.
“I was just talking to your father.” I bite my lip, glancing back at William. Whatever he said, I must have misheard him.
In the short time between being arrested and sentenced, my father’s company imploded on itself. On one of the last days I’d attended at my old high school, I’d returned home to find men I didn’t recognize emptying the house. Under supervision, I had to pack one case with my things, and then we were living in a hotel for a couple of weeks, and I was listening to my parents argue. Then my father walked out, and my mom and I had to find somewhere we could live with the little money we had.
We have no money. And even if we did, why would Syn’s father care?
“She’s tired,” William says. “Why don’t you let your fiancée get some sleep, son? We should talk anyway.”
There’s something about the way Syn’s father is looking at his son that leaves me feeling uneasy. I know the last thing I should worry about is Syn, especially when he’s with his own father, but I find myself taking Syn’s hand.
“Can’t you talk tomorrow?” I ask him. “Come to bed with me.”
Syn looks down at me. For just a moment, something changes, and I see a glimmer of something… a softness, almost.
But then, it’s gone.
“Synclair?” William says.
“I’ll be up soon, darling.” He deftly moves us like we’re dancing, and then suddenly, I’m on the other side of a closed door.