3. Helen #2
Charlotte Montgomery was glass at that very moment.
One glance and she locked me in an inescapable stare down.
Her emotions were closed off behind a pane of glass, not giving away anything if one couldn’t read her.
The slight crease between her brows and the infinitesimal quirk down of her mouth gave away the turmoil she wouldn’t release in public.
“What happened?”
Mother looked over her shoulders, then to the stairway, ensuring we were alone except for our guards. A soft exhale through her nose and a shared glance with my father only spiked the anxiety crawling up my spine.
“Please don’t leave me in suspense,” I beseeched them for information. “Don’t tell me you sat at that table for almost two hours playing footsie under the table.”
“Helen,” Mother warned in a waspish tone.
“What? Are we at war with one of the families now? One of them sent the masked men, didn’t they?”
Father rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, now studiously avoiding my gaze. His lips pursed into a frown as he shifted from foot to foot, as if his expensive loafers were uncomfortable.
An icy dread dripped down my spine, freezing the blood in my veins.
Mother’s eyes darting over my features and Father’s avoidance sent a spike of sharp alarm through my gut.
I’d never wished for war more than I did the moment I realized something drastic sprang from that meeting.
And I sorely regretted sitting downstairs wallowing in fruity drinks while the executioner’s blade hovered two stories above my bare neck.
“No, I don’t believe one of the other families sent the masked men. If they did, they’re doing a marvelous job of hiding it. Though it doesn’t feel right.”
“What if someone is trying to pit us against one another?” I added.
“That was brought up in the meeting, which you would have known already had you joined us.” Her disapproval clouded her eyes, but only for a moment before she blinked it away.
I remained silent, focusing on each breath in and out, slow and steady despite my heart racing.
“Listen, we discussed the intruders at our office along with the incident the Grahams faced. Their son was attacked in his home the same night. We compared the masks, and they have the same make. They’re unique and appear to be specialized in craftsmanship.
The other families have had a handful of incidents.
Break-ins, being followed, nearly missing an attack.
” Mother shook her head, her disbelief apparent.
“New information has come to light. We’re more vulnerable than we realized. We need allies—powerful ones at that.”
“We have allies.”
“Not like this, darling. No, someone is rising in power. Someone might be working in the shadows to undermine us. And now, with direct attacks, I have concerns about the interruptions to our fiscal year. And safety, of course.”
“Nothing we haven’t discussed the past two weeks, Mother. What did you conclude from the meeting?” I asked with a controlled smile. She skirted around the conclusion, an unusual tactic for a woman known for getting to the point.
A beat of silence stretched and stretched and extended beyond reach. Her stare, normally so reserved and composed, softened as she watched me. The walls pressed in, and the air thinned the longer my mother hesitated to speak.
Even my father’s mask melted away as his twitchiness increased, eyes shifting between me and his wife. Expression as frantic as a man about to face off against a lion.
Mother cleared the back of her throat. “A collaboration was decided upon.”
Icy claws trailed down my neck to my spine. A panicked shiver raced through me. “Collaboration?” My eyes flicked to the closed door and back.
“If the families are pitted against one another, or an outside force is attempting to overthrow us, we must stand as a united force. We must protect all that we hold dear. You understand?” Mother’s hand twitched, fighting the urge to reach for me.
“You have a son, your eldest son, for things like this. Use him—use Arthur,” I burst out, panic giving me a bitter taste in my mouth and heart palpitations pulsing.
“Arthur, my most cherished son,” Mother said with no lack of sarcasm, “wouldn’t know where his nose was if he wasn’t actively using it to sniff coke off a whore’s ass.”
Father choked his abrupt chuckle down. Mother speaking indelicately caught us both off guard. I blinked owlishly at her. He hid his mouth behind his hand and angled his head away. I wanted to smile with him, but Mother’s tone and the creeping suspicion in my gut drowned the ability.
“An alliance—” she collected herself, clasping her hands delicately in front of her, “—a familial partnership, so to speak.”
Fear possessed me, unleashing control of my unruffled fa?ade. Trapped in the moment, it felt like standing before a tidal wave in the harrowing seconds before it crashed over you.
Alliances between families weren’t uncommon. Although it was the twentieth century, our families obeyed different rules. If the head of your family decided to hand you over in an arrangement, you went with a smile on your face or wound up with a bullet in the back of your head.
Now, my mother wouldn’t shoot me if I didn’t comply, but my other options were almost as bad.
Perhaps I could ask her to shoot me, anyway.
Throw my corpse in the river and let me rot with the fish.
It would be preferable to the devastating reality blossoming to life in front of me.
In fact, it would be downright peaceful compared to the agony twisted like a knife in my gut.
“An arrangement. To strengthen our ties,” I said robotically. I didn’t even feel my mouth moving to form the words. I looked to the stairway where the other families had departed and back to the closed doors where I’d heard that voice—his voice. The only family that had remained.
“These connections are invaluable in a time such as this. We must be a united front against this developing enemy.” Mother caved to the desire to reach out, to console me, and placed her hands on my arms. It felt like manacles binding me and weighing me down.
Standing there, staring up at that massive wave, I wondered if I would sink or swim.
“Who?” I choked out.
Her lips twitched remorsefully as if to say, you already know who. And he was on the other side of those double doors, talking to his parents about the very same thing. That explained what I heard when I arrived.
“Now, they agreed to give us a few moments to talk about it with you since you skipped the meeting. But it’s time to finalize the details. I fear it’ll appear rude if we don’t return to the room now.” Mother’s words cleaved through me, rendering my heart into flayed shreds that fell at my feet.
The wave towering over me, a shadow, a threat, a fate worse than death, crashed over my head and dumped a frigid reality over me. I would drown.
“Papa!” I wrenched away from my mother, looking to him for help.
Drowning. Drowning. Drowning. Wave after wave slammed into my head, dragging me deeper, stealing me away into murky, fathomless depths. My breaths came as shallow pants, and my blood coursed sluggish and cold in my veins.
The bare shake of his head was the ax falling on the chopping block. The last wave forced me under and away from life-saving air.
“Je suis désolé mon amour. La décision est définitive.” The decision was final. He couldn’t help me.
“Non, Papa!” I choked down an internal riot, facing Mother again. “No. No, you can’t do this. Drake Graham.” His name tasted like bittersweet ash on my tongue. Breathing life into it breathed life into the reality of my circumstances. “He won’t… he won’t agree to this!”
She placed a delicate hand on my arm, placating and consoling.
A signal for me to be strong, to brave the new developments as she taught me to.
No matter what we faced, we did so as a family.
She would support me through the process, but the steel finality in her gaze brought the gavel of her decision down. There would be no backing out.
“Darling,” she squeezed lightly, “he already has.”