Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Poppy
Brunch was… uneventful. Donovan didn’t apologize, and I didn’t either.
It was strange being in his presence; I didn’t know what to say or how to say it anymore.
All I could think about was Ivan, but I knew it would never work.
I knew it could never be. So instead of scowling and wanting to spit in his face…
I sat there docile with a serene look on my face because it was the only thing I could conjure up.
“Are you going to be upset with me forever?” He finally asked after brunch was cleared away. I’d hardly touched mine, but he ate his fill just as he always did— only the protein and the fats. Nothing sugary or high in carbs.
My eyes met his cold gaze, and I watched him for a moment before I answered. He had a glass of champagne in front of him that remained untouched, and his arms were crossed over his chest. “Well?”
I blinked out of the spell I seemed to be stuck in and shrugged. “I’m not upset.”
“You’ve hardly spoken to me.”
“I haven’t had much to say. Would you like useless filler to take up our time together?”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “No, I suppose not but I also don’t appreciate the silence either.”
I don’t appreciate being a side piece to you. I don’t appreciate being a slab of meat. I don’t appreciate being a baby maker. I don’t appreciate this arranged marriage.
I smiled with my mouth closed. There was nothing to say, or the truth would slip out, and I would damn my sister.
“Spend the day with me.”
It wasn’t a request. I nodded once, and he collected his coat from the back of his chair. When he stood beside me, he pulled on a strand of my hair and watched as it bounced. “I like your hair like this.”
“Thank you.” I’d put very little time and effort into curling it before brunch.
I didn’t want to look like I didn’t care…
but I also didn’t want to look like I cared because I didn’t.
I was a hostage. I didn’t want to be here.
I didn’t want to impress him. All I cared about was keeping my sister safe.
Donovan offered me his arm as we stepped out onto the quiet sidewalk, and I looped my hand through out of habit more than desire. The morning sun was painfully bright, mocking, really. Too cheerful for the way my stomach twisted in knots.
“Let’s walk,” Donovan said, guiding us down the street with a purposeful stride. “I want you to see something.”
I nodded even though my legs already felt like lead. Every time he pulled just slightly on my hand to redirect me, it took everything in me not to jerk away. I kept imagining Ivan’s warm palm at the small of my back instead.
We walked in silence until Donovan stopped beside a glossy black car parked along the curb. He rapped his knuckles twice on the roof. Someone inside rolled down the window.
A woman—not Aisling. Someone older, much older.
“This is Marta,” Donovan said, motioning lazily. “She’s going to be your assistant.”
“My… what?”
He smirked. “Someone to keep you on schedule. Handle the boring things. Teach you how this world works.”
My breath stuttered. “I didn’t ask for an assistant.”
“Of course you didn’t.” He tucked a stray curl behind my ear, fingers grazing my cheek with pretend gentleness. “But you need one.”
A cold rush of dread slid through me. This wasn’t an assistant. This was a babysitter. He couldn’t control Ivan and what was happening in my home, so he pivoted.
“We’ll discuss wardrobe and social obligations once you’re properly settled after the wedding. I’ll schedule your appointments, your clothing, makeup, and hair. You will never be without and always be on time.”
After the wedding. That meant I still had time. That meant I didn’t have to worry about looking over my shoulder within my own home… Yet.
I forced a smile. “Lovely.”
Donovan clasped my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up. “No more moods today, alright? No more silent treatment. It makes me… irritable.”
I swallowed. “I’m trying, Donovan.”
“Good,” he murmured. “Because the wedding is coming up faster than you think, and you need to be ready.”
My heart stumbled.
Wedding.
He hadn’t even proposed yet. I nodded and tried my best to keep my face happy, but it was so hard.
Donovan nodded once and then opened the door. “Marta is going to take you shopping for our date tonight. You’ll get accustomed to having her around and how she operates.”
It was right on the tip of my tongue… I thought we were spending the day together.
I should have known better, but also… why wasn’t I more relieved?
“We have a date tonight?” I asked, quietly and uncertain. I didn’t have it on my calendar.
Donovan pressed his palm into the small of my back to guide me into the small black car, and Marta scooted over.
Her salt and pepper hair was severely combed back against her skull, and she wore a tight pantsuit.
He didn’t bother with saying goodbye as the door was closed and the windows rolled up, leaving me alone with this woman.
I looked up just as he was yanking his phone out of his pocket and pressing it again his ear.
“Donovan is a busy man,” Marta said with a thick accent as she watched me with clear, sharp eyes.
“You have a date tonight that is at one of the best restaurants in all of this city… if not the world. He has gone to great lengths to make this day special for you. You should not act so… ungrateful. Many would kill to be in your shoes.”
I nodded. “I am incredibly grateful for this opportunity…” To protect my sister from all of you monsters. “Where are we heading? I was under the impression I was spending the day with Donovan.”
Marta adjusted the sleeves on her coat. “Yes, that was the plan, but plans change. Something came up that required his immediate attention. I will be bringing you to a dress fitting.”
“A wedding dress fitting?” My mind was spinning. This was something I was supposed to do with my family, not some strange woman I just met.
Her answering laugh sounded more like a hacking cough. “Of course not. A fitting for your date tonight. As I said, he went to great lengths to make this night special for you. The least you could be is grateful and a tad bit excited.”
“What restaurant are we going to, tonight?”
The woman gave me the deepest look of contempt that I’d ever received. “If Mr. Madden wanted you to know, he would have told you.”
I took a deep breath through my nose and looked out of the window, instead of watching the woman who could potentially see too much.
“Relax your shoulders,” she said suddenly. “You’re slouching. It is not flattering.”
I straightened automatically, then cursed myself for it. I didn’t want to listen to her. I didn’t want to obey.
The car slowed as we approached a row of pristine boutiques—places I loved to shop when I was alone. Places I'd taken Jane to.
“We don’t have much time to prepare you for everything happening this evening, so here is how it will be—we will find you the perfect outfit for dinner, and then you will go get your hair and makeup done.
After that, you’ll also have your nails and toes done.
There is no time for push back. Do you understand? ”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “Good girl.”
The door opened, and a man in all black extended his hand to help me out. I didn’t miss the SUV full of security that pulled up behind us. I stepped onto the polished sidewalk and mentally prepared myself for the worst.
Inside, the boutique smelled like jasmine, which did little to calm my nerves. A tall woman with a tight bun and sharper cheekbones than anything humanly possible greeted us immediately.
“Miss Fairchild,” she breathed as if I were some delicate treasure. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Marta gestured toward a changing suite in the back. “Try on everything they bring you. I’ll evaluate.”
Evaluate?
I forced a polite smile for the boutique woman, who ushered me into a mirrored room the size of my kitchen. Dresses were already hung along the wall—silk, crystal beading, velvet, sheer panels, and every other fabric you could think of.
“Miss Fairchild,” the boutique employee called through the door as she knocked gently. “We’re ready when you are.”
I swallowed hard and smoothed the dress in front of me. A deep green satin that shimmered like a serpent’s skin.
The moment I slipped it on, something inside me twisted tight.
It wasn’t me.
It wasn’t for me.
It was for Donovan.
Everything from this point on would be for Donovan.
Unless—
Unless I found a way out.
And God help me…
I was starting to want out more than I’d ever wanted anything.
Even more than I wanted Ivan.
For the first time, I wondered if it was possible to want both.
I twisted my hands in front of me and smoothed out the fabric again.
It wasn’t about me, though. It wasn’t about what I wanted.
It was about Jane. Everything was about protecting her.
Nothing else mattered… but maybe… just maybe, there could be more. I just had to come up with a plan.
I took a breath—one that didn’t even make it all the way into my lungs—and pushed open the door.
Marta stood beside a velvet sofa, arms folded, with an expression as warm as a slab of marble. The boutique attendant’s eyes lit up as if she’d personally stitched the gown from strands of emerald herself.
Marta’s jaw clicked before she spoke. “Turn.”
“Too much back,” Marta said. “And the neckline will photograph poorly. Next.”
I chewed on my bottom lip as I walked back into the fitting room and shucked the dress from my body.
I should have felt elated that she hated it as much as I did, but there was nothing but disappointment coursing through me.
This woman was going to plan out the rest of my life, and for what?
Gritting my teeth, I pulled on the next dress.
I wasn’t a person anymore, I was a doll—a mannequin— and I would never have an identity again.
Poppy Fairchild didn’t matter; she was dead and gone.
I was going to be Poppy Madden and whoever that was… I wasn’t so sure.
The next dress was silver—nearly white—sleek, with a slit that climbed scandalously high. I stepped into it with numb hands, pulled it up, and smoothed it down.
My reflection stared back at me like a stranger.
Beautiful.
Polished.
Empty.
A counterfeit version of myself.
I stepped out again.
Marta lifted her chin. “Better. This one frames your face nicely.”
I swallowed. “I—don’t know if this is really—”
“Miss Fairchild,” Marta said sharply. “Your opinions are noted. But ultimately irrelevant. Mr. Madden has a very specific vision.”
My entire body went cold.
“He wants a wife that reflects his stature—his power. You will do that, or you will end up at the bottom of the Hudson.”
My stomach lurched so violently I had to inhale slowly to keep from getting sick.
“Try the black one,” Marta said, snapping her fingers. “I think it’ll be the most appropriate for tonight’s activities.”
I lifted the black dress from the hanger.
It was stunning.
A deep V at the front.
A delicate lace back.
Fabric that glittered faintly like stars trapped in ink.
It looked like something powerful.
But when I slid the material over my body and looked into the mirror… Once again, I didn’t see myself.
I opened the door.
Marta’s eyes sharpened. “Yes. That one. That will do nicely.”