Chapter 32 #2
Troy leaves to greet them, and the wedding planner, a woman named Gwen, with an earpiece and a penchant for sighing and holding her hand to her chest at every hallmark moment, swoops in with her tablet and saves me, too.
“Sage. I hope you don’t mind. I need to finalize the processional music before dinner.
Your mother mentioned you wanted something traditional? ”
I didn’t. I haven’t mentioned anything to my mother. But I hear myself say, “Traditional is fine.” It’s not like I’m getting married anyway.
Wait.
No. I am getting married.
The realization sinks into my bones like winter.
I’m not killing Troy because he didn’t kill Nell. Which means I’m actually marrying him. And I don’t know how I feel about that. Because the one thing I’ve been pushing down and ignoring is that letter I found from Nell.
It has to be addressed to Troy…
Sweeny is etched on his mother’s ring. Sweeny and Swanley are very similar, maybe too similar to be a coincidence.
And it just feels like Troy should be the recipient of my sister’s affections, somehow, even though I still don’t know what happened between them.
I type a quick text asking Laine to look at the Swanley family’s Irish heritage, because if I’m right, it changes everything.
And he’s probably still not over her.
Dinner is announced, and I’m seated beside Troy at the head of the table, with my parents across from us, and Mr. Mundel sitting at the far end. The rest of Troy’s guests—business partners, I assume—scatter across the other place settings.
Kathy oversees the service, and the first course arrives: chestnut soup that tastes like absolutely nothing to me. My eyes keep darting nervously between Troy and my father, when every comment seems razored, and every response is cutting. I feel like I’m in the middle of a controlled bloodbath.
When my father is being himself, so obnoxious beyond reason, a blond man with piercing blue eyes, who looks like Lucifer incarnate, locks eyes with Troy.
There’s an exchange between them that no one else sees but me, unless I’m imagining it.
The blond inclines his head, and Troy returns the gesture, as though giving the okay.
Okay, to what? I don’t know who the blond man is. I don’t know who anyone is. I haven’t been paying attention to any of the small talk around me.
My mind is in turmoil, and my heart feels like it’s been squeezed through a meat grinder.
Everything I know and don’t know, and don’t understand, all of it pulls at me like a riptide.
Every time someone tries to start a conversation with me, other thoughts twist in, taking anything they have to say right out of my head.
But then, under the table, Troy takes my hand. He’s close enough that I can feel his warmth, and as soon as I do, everything else falls away. The memory of him pinning me down, his mouth on mine, and fingers inside me, is all I can focus on.
“So, Troy.” My mother dabs her mouth with her napkin. “How are you finding married life? Or soon-to-be married life, I should say.” She actually winks at him.
Troy brings my hand up to rest it on top of the table. Then he reaches back under, lifts the hem of my dress, and lightly grips the lace of my knickers.
I grip the tablecloth, gnawing my lip.
“Your daughter is full of surprises,” he says smoothly, as his knuckles graze my thigh.
“Really?” My mother’s voice is cool. “Sage has always been so... vanilla, though. Haven’t you, darling?”
He eases one side of the lace over my hip and then the other. And then slowly tugs the flimsy material down.
I nearly choke on my soup.
“Vanilla? You mean obedient,” my father butts in.
Troy’s hand moves up my leg. I try to squeeze my legs closed, but he gently pushes them apart. “Oh, she’s a good girl, alright.”
Now I do choke.
Troy is stroking his fingers over my soaking wet slit, pleasure spikes through me in waves.
Good girl. That’s me, the Sage who does what everybody wants. The daughter who does what she’s told and doesn’t make a fuss. The one who lets her fiancé bring her off at dinner with her parents.
My cheeks burn as I stare at my soup. Troy keeps on caressing me, destroying me one delve at a time.
I can’t look at Troy. I try to focus on what he’s saying, but it slices too close to the bone.
When he barks orders, I jump to obey. When he touches me, I roll over and beg for more.
This is not what I want out of marriage.
Not what I want from the person I’m meant to be with for the rest of my life.
Are you sure, Nell snickers.
Oh, go away!
“Well, obedient is hardly a flaw. Sage has always been so...manageable. Even when she was poorly,” my mother says, shoving a piece of bread into her mouth. I stare at her. There’s a dab of white powder under her nose—no wonder she’s being chatty today.
“I think you’d be surprised, Mel,” Troy says, slipping inside me. “Can I call you Mel? Sage has a remarkable talent for a lot of things.”
My father’s soup spoon pauses halfway to his mouth.
My mother leans in. “Like what?”
“Finding things out. Quite tenacious, really. She’s very curious about the history of my house.
” Troy looks at me, his eyes glinting in the candlelight.
“So many lost things hidden in old houses. I never have to worry about finding anything because she seems quite good at digging them up.” He pushes inside me, slow and intentional, not taking his eyes off me. “Aren’t you, love?”
“I-It’s a fascinating property.” I manage to keep my voice steady. “So much history.”
Troy smirks, continuing to thrust into me. A deep ache has started to build. His hand, the chair, must be drenched by now.
“Indeed.” My father sets his spoon down with a soft clink. “But some things are best left forgotten. You can’t change the past.”
I’m gripping the table now, no longer listening. Intense pleasure flutters at my core as Troy brings me to the point of no return.
“No, you can’t,” Troy says, his voice silk over steel. “But you can try.”
My legs tremble, and then the orgasm rushes over, in silence, with everyone around us conversing amongst themselves, eating soup, Troy cupping my pussy like he’s holding me together, keeping me from falling apart.
Troy has a smirk on his face when I’m done. I feel flushed as he pulls my panties up and then picks up an artisan cake with his fingers that were just inside me, and offers it to me to eat. “Here, try this.”
“Oh, Sage, you simply must try it. It’s on the menu for tomorrow,” Gwen gushes.
How can I not?
After the starter, I get up from the table and hurry to the ladies.
I’m a mess when I see myself; eyes wide and blown, cheeks that are too pink, my chest rising and falling like I’ve been at spin class instead of sitting and eating dinner.
I splash cold water on my face, fix my damp underwear, and then head back.
I hear my father talking to the man with blonde hair and blue eyes when I sit back down, as though he’s buttering him up. “Mr. Black, you need to come visit my operation in Southwark. I think you’ll find it very interesting. You might learn a thing or two.”
Southwark.
That’s where the location data said Troy was the night my sister disappeared.
My father has a pet food factory in Southwark. I’d forgotten about that. I think that’s why Troy was there. Was he doing business with my father?
Or looking for me, Nell whispers.
“Sage?” Troy’s voice pulls me back. “You’re very quiet.”
“Sorry. I’m just thinking about…tomorrow.” I force a smile. “It’s all moving so fast. I don’t think I’ve fully taken in what’s about to happen.”
Troy takes my wrist and holds my hand on his lap. He’s rock hard for me in his trousers.
“Cold feet?” he asks softly, just low enough that only I can hear. But his thumb is stroking my pulse point, making every heartbeat thunder inside my head. The urge to grip him in my hand is almost too much.
“No. Not cold feet.”
Because this is just a business agreement between him and me, that’s all this is.
He wanted my sister. Now he’s got to deal with me instead.
He wants me, but he’s a guy with a dick.
Men like him always want sex. His being hard for me right now, his cock straining, means nothing.
Maybe after this, I will go to Laine’s, as he suggested.
Because the alternative is going back with my parents, and now that they’re here, reminding me of what it’s like to be around them, I can’t do that.
I extract myself from him as the main course arrives, a game bird that makes me think of Troy’s hunting exploits. The trophies hanging on the walls around Grayfleet. Instantly, I’ve lost my appetite.
But the one thing I can’t get out of my mind is how he’s touched me just now. How much I want to touch him right back. And how this might be what he did with Nell before she died.
Did he make her come like that, too? Did she beg him to fuck her? Did he let her touch his scars while he whispered promises in her ear, secrets into the curve of her swanlike neck?
But he didn’t promise you anything, Nell reminds me.
“This is very delicious.” My mother, oblivious to the tension, coked-up to her eyeballs. “Did your personal chef make this. Troy?”
“Katherine did.”
“Oh. Your housemaid. Is she overseeing tomorrow, too?”
Troy nods, but he’s looking at me. “If you prefer not to, to avoid all the fuss. We can leave after the ceremony.” Finally, I see the man from last night, the one who made me feel safe, protected, and wanted. He’s giving me a choice.
“No.” I swallow. “It sounds…perfect.”
Leaving and running away; that’s what I do best. And I can’t anymore. If Troy loved Nell, if he still loves her, then I will deal with that.
He doesn’t have to know.
My father clears his throat. “Before we finish, I’d like to make a toast.”
He stands, wine glass raised, and I feel Troy stiffen beside me. This time, I take his hand.