20. Two Days Until Bonding
Chapter twenty
Two Days Until Bonding
Laurel
I’m sliding the last earring into my lobe when Carrson enters my bedroom in an all-black tuxedo.
My hand pauses at my ear. The suit turns every hard line of him elegant without making him look any less dangerous.
Night has fallen outside the windows, but tall wrought-iron candelabras illuminate the terraces and lawn, hundreds of flames trembling against the darkness.
Their golden glow fills the white tents and spills across the grass.
From up here, the entire estate looks enchanted, suspended amongst the stars.
Music drifts up from below, mingling with the laughter of the guests already gathered.
The ones who will watch me descend the stairs in a few minutes.
The ones who will watch me have sex with Carrson in two days.
Carrson stops inside the doorway. His eyes travel from the jeweled tiara on my head to the red silk spilling around my feet, then slowly return to my face. The intensity of his attention makes my cheeks burn.
“Whoa.” He releases a breath. “You look...wow, Laurel. You look beautiful.”
“Are you sure it’s not too much?” I touch the curls Sam carefully arranged at the back of my head, leaving a few loose tendrils to cascade around my face. “I told Sam I didn’t want to look like royalty.”
Carrson smiles. “Sorry to tell you, but you failed. You look like the most beautiful queen ever to rule over this house.”
He holds out one hand, his fingers loosely closed around something that glitters between them. “I want to make one small adjustment. If you’ll let me.”
“Okay.” I crane my neck, trying to see what he’s holding, but he chuckles and hides it behind his back.
“Take off your necklace.”
Carrson steps behind my chair. I tense, worried he’ll see the brand.
The dress covers most of it, and I concealed the small section above the neckline with makeup, but Carrson notices everything when it comes to me.
I reach back to remove the heavy Ashford necklace, clustered with emeralds and sapphires and rubies.
His fingers work quickly, replacing it with a delicate gold chain he fastens at the back of my neck. Once he’s done, a small charm rests at the base of my throat.
I lean toward the mirror and read the letters backward in the reflection. It takes me a second to decipher them.
“Mine?” I twist to face him. “You bought me a necklace that says mine?” My hand goes to the clasp. “I can’t wear this.”
Carrson catches my wrists before I can remove it. I lower my arms, and he circles around to kneel in front of me.
“Please.” His expression is earnest. “I’m asking you to keep it on. Not as ownership. As a promise from me to you.”
“But how can anyone see this as anything other than ownership?”
“They can’t.” Carrson remains kneeling in front of me, his hands resting loosely around my wrists. “That’s the point.”
I pull my hands free. “You’re not helping your case.”
“Laurel, everyone downstairs understands one language. Power. They’ll see this and know you’re under my protection.”
“Your protection or your control?”
He pulls back, eyebrows slashing down. “I’m not trying to control you.”
“You’re deciding how thousands of people should see me before I’ve said a word to them.”
“I’m deciding how afraid they should be to touch you.”
The words make me pause, but only briefly.
“You don’t get to turn me into a possession because you’re scared.”
“I’m not turning you into anything.” He takes the pendant between his fingers, holding it away from my skin so I can see the small gold letters.
“I know you aren’t mine like a house or a car or any other thing a man can own.
But the people downstairs don’t think the way you do.
They see an outsider wearing Ashford jewelry and standing beside the future leader of The Order.
Some of them will want to test what that means. ”
“This answers the question for them?”
“Yes.”
The surety in his voice makes irritation rise through me like a tidal wave.
“So I’m supposed to walk into that ballroom with your claim hanging around my neck and let everyone believe I belong to you?”
“You’re supposed to walk into that room knowing no one will risk dragging you into a corner and stabbing a knife into your back.”
“You’re being overdramatic.”
“I’m not.” His fist closes around the charm. “They don’t have to respect you yet. They only have to fear what I’ll do if they don’t.”
A chill passes through me, raising the hairs on the backs of my arms.
“That isn’t respect.”
“No.” He looks up at me. “It buys us time. Time for you to learn who your enemies are, for them to learn you aren’t easy to intimidate, and for us to find another way to keep you safe.”
I look at the word resting against my skin.
MINE.
A cage disguised as jewelry.
Except Carrson isn’t asking me to believe it. He’s asking me to let everyone else believe it long enough for him to protect me.
“You should’ve explained before putting it on me.”
“I should have.” He releases the pendant. “I saw you dressed like this and thought about all those people downstairs looking at you. Then I stopped thinking clearly. You have that effect on me.” He touches my cheek. “Constantly.”
A laugh fights against my frustration, but I refuse to let him get out of this so easily.
“I don’t like it.”
“I know.”
“I’m not agreeing that I belong to you.”
“I know that too.”
“After tonight, I decide when I wear it.”
His shoulders ease back to their normal position. “Agreed.”
I touch the necklace again.
“I’ll wear it tonight.”
Relief crosses his face, taking some of the heat out of my anger.
“Thank you.”
“This doesn’t mean you won.”
“I’m kneeling in front of you while you’re wearing a crown.” His smile returns. “I don’t think anyone who walks in here will be confused about which one of us is in charge.”
I snort and cup his cheek. “Stop being so charming.”
“I can’t.” He turns his face into my palm, his lips brushing the base of my thumb. “Not when it makes you smile.” His expression sobers. “I need to tell you something, but I don’t want you to worry.”
“That immediately makes me nervous.”
“Don’t be.” Carrson stands. He’s so tall I have to reach up to keep my hand near his face.
“A group of Brothers wants to go to a strip club after the party. I haven’t been in over a year, and I have zero desire to go now, but every time I refuse they take it as proof that I don’t consider myself one of them.
It’s becoming harder to lead Ashford House when they keep using it against me. ”
My hand starts to fall from his face, but he catches it and presses it flat over his chest.
“I won’t touch anyone. I won’t accept a dance. I’ll stay long enough to remind them I’m still their Brother, then I’ll leave.”
His hand covers mine, keeping it over the steady beat of his heart.
“But that isn’t the part I need you to believe.” He waits until I’m looking directly at him. “There’s no woman they could put in front of me that would compete with you. Ever. You’re the one I belong to. The one I can’t wait to get back to. You, Tiger. No one else.”
Before I can respond, or figure out how to respond, Thomson sticks his head through the doorway.
“Your father wants you both downstairs now, Carrson.”
“Okay,” Carrson tells him. “We’re coming.”
Carrson helps me into the high heels that make me wobble, even though Sam has spent the past three days making me practice in them. At the doorway, he holds out his elbow. I take it, leaning on him for balance.
“Do you have your mask?” he asks.
I tap the small purse that dangles on a string from my wrist. “Sam said not to wear it right away. That it’s only for the dance after dinner.”
“That’s right.” He squeezes my arm, then leads me forward.
The live orchestra and overlapping voices grow louder with every step toward the main staircase. My apprehension rises with them until I’m gripping Carrson’s arm hard enough to make him wince. Every breath pulls the bodice tight against the brand, so I keep them shallow.
As we take the first step, he lowers his mouth near my ear.
“Remember, never show weakness.”
On the third step, he adds, “Always establish your dominance.”
Halfway down, he says, “Your mind is your sharpest weapon.”
The ballroom opens below us.
Men and women in tuxedos and glittering gowns crowd the floor, champagne glasses in hand.
Rolexes flash under the chandeliers. Diamonds as large as hummingbird eggs hang from throats and ears.
Hundreds of faces turn toward us, which are just the people who can fit in this room.
There are more guests waiting in tents outside.
My chest constricts, making each breath scrape across my ribs.
“One last thing,” Carrson says as we reach the bottom. “Trust no one.”
Before the warning can spike my panic, he turns and sweeps me into his arms, bending me backward over his supporting arm.
“Except me.”
Then he kisses me.
Long and deep, right in front of everyone. My fingers curl into the front of his jacket as the room disappears. The watching faces. The whispers.
He kisses me until the only thing making me breathless is the movement of his lips against mine.
When he draws me upright, his fingers pass over the necklace at my throat before he turns us toward the crowd.
Everyone erupts.
People whistle, cheer, and shout with far more enthusiasm and considerably less dignity than I expected from anyone dressed this well.
Carrson steps forward with one arm around my waist and the other raised above his head. The prodigal son has returned, and they love him for it. Men crowd around to slap him on the back. Women flutter at his elbow, eager for a smile or a word. Through it all, he keeps me tucked close to his side.
Introductions are made, names passing by so numerous and quick that they all begin to blur. A few stand out. A prominent Supreme Court judge. The Irish ambassador. The freaking Vice President of the United States.
I try not to gape when he lifts my hand and presses his lips to the back of it.
“Lovely to meet you, Miss Bellefleur.”