8. The Explanation
eight
The Explanation
Nash's grin widened, predatory and self-assured, as he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight.
"I've merely been heeding the wisdom you so generously imparted," he drawled, his voice a velvet caress that somehow made Iris's skin crawl.
His eyes flicked around the table, amused by the collective discomfort.
He seemed to bask in the power he held over her family.
"Did you even want to come tonight, Iris?
" Ash ventured, his voice brittle with concern.
The question hung in the air, echoing off the opulent walls that were adorned with lifeless old family portraits that somehow seemed to condemn the scene around the table.
"Do you have any say in your life now?" Her brother looked sick as he questioned her.
Iris opened her mouth, but her voice was a strangled whisper, barely loud enough to break through the tense silence.
"Yes..." She couldn't tear her gaze away from Nash, her mind reeling from the revelations of the evening.
But, there was no reason to reveal the truth to her brother. That she had no control, not really.
She didn't need his pity. Or his concern. There was nothing he could do anyways.
Ash's face flamed a furious red, his ire evident in his eyes. He turned to Nash, his posture rigid. "Why now, Nash? Why allow her to come home for this dinner? You've kept her away for years, why now?"
"Let's just say I wanted to clarify the hierarchy within this...
charming family dynamic," Nash replied, his words smooth as silk.
His eyes gleamed dangerously as they left her brother's face and settled on her parents once more.
"Should you persist in your attempts to leech more than the generosity I have graciously extended, understand this—I will not hesitate to sever the lifeline I'm giving you.
Everything will disappear, your lavish lifestyles, your homes, everything.
You'll watch your family legacy crash and burn all around you. "
The threat hung heavy in the room, a sword poised above the heads of the esteemed Mr. and Mrs. Blackworth. Anger was rife through their frames, their faces masks of barely contained fury.
Nash's smile softened as he addressed the table.
A king among his peons. "However, we need not dwell on such depressing notions.
There was another, happier, reason for this little gathering.
I'm sure you'll all be pleased to hear that our wedding is finally here.
Iris and I are getting married next weekend.
" His eyes found Iris's, searching for something.
Apparently he found it, as his eyes soften for a moment, before hardening as he turns back to the family.
"You're all invited, of course. It was Iris's heartfelt wish for you to attend, and after some... convincing, I acquiesced."
A collective gasp rippled through the room, followed by a stunned silence.
The announcement was a coup de grace, delivered with a veneer of civility that did nothing to disguise the true power play that it was.
A wedding of this caliber would be the talk of the town, and to hint that the bride's family may have been excluded, it would be enough to send shockwaves through the business world.
Iris felt the blood drain from her face, her heart thundering against her ribs.
The engagement ring on her finger—a band of ice-cold diamonds—suddenly weighed heavy on her hand.
It should have been a beautiful promise.
A symbol of their devotion to one another.
Instead, it was little more than a symbol of the gilded cage she found herself in.
She glanced down at the glittering stones, each one a reminder of the price of her family's survival.
In the back of her mind, Iris couldn't quiet the voice that piped up. Better than James Ackery, though. If not for Nash, would you even be alive still?
With a gentle shake of her head, Iris pushed it firmly from her mind.
"I would love if you all could be there," she murmured softly, her eyes glancing at both of her siblings. She pointedly avoided looking at her mother. Both Ash and Holly quietly told her that they would be there, but the tension never left her.
After that, the conversations resumed around her, stilted and fraught with unspoken questions.
Everyone was so well trained in social niceties that inconsequential chatter came easily to them all.
As they filled the quiet with useless words, Iris's mind raced.
Nash had laid bare the twisted roots of their families' bond, exposing the rot beneath the surface.
And yet, with his own fierce, if not twisted, possessiveness, he shielded her from the worst of what her family planned.
The realization left her trembling, caught between gratitude and a deepening sense of dread for what the future held.
Obsession, fear, survival—that was her life with Nash. And as the evening wore on, the consequences of past actions loomed over them like ghosts. Forever present around them, but just out of reach. The decadent food tasted like ash in her throat. Inside, she felt like she was choking.
Iris, her hands trembling slightly beneath the tablecloth, cleared her throat. "How is Rose doing?" she asked, voice feather-soft yet carrying through the hushed atmosphere.
Ash glanced up, the strain on his face easing into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "She's growing so fast, Iris. Already reaching for things and babbling like she has stories to tell."
Holly dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, her movements sluggish with the weight of her pregnancy.
"Yes, she'll be walking before we know it," she added, a flicker of genuine warmth crossing her features as she spoke of her niece.
"And these teas you send... they're a godsend.
I don't think I'd have managed without them.
Perhaps you could come over sometime next week for a cup with me?
You can tell me about the wedding?" Her words were hesitant, but hopeful.
"Really?" Iris replied, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.
The past was behind them. There was nothing to be gained there by dwelling there.
She took the olive branch that Holly extended, and let the tension fade away to the back of her mind.
"I would like that," she dared a peek at Nash; he was observing the exchange, a territorial glint in his eye clear for her to see.
She begged him with her eyes, and he gave a slight nod before speaking.
"You are welcome at our penthouse, Holly." His words were polite, but the words he left unsaid were harsh. Iris was not allowed to go to Holly's home. Holly swallowed and nodded with a forced smile.
The conversation shifted, turned to lighter topics—baby milestones and expectant motherhood—but the undercurrent of tension never ebbed away. It lingered. But Iris wondered if it had ever left. Her entire childhood in this house was one horrible interaction after another.
Maybe she was cursed to never have a pleasant dinner with her family.
It was not long after dinner finished that Nash made their excuses. It was clear he did not want to be in her family's presence longer than necessary.
Afterwards, while ensconced in the plush leather seats of Nash's much too expensive SUV, the glittering cityscape passed by in a blur as they made their way back to the penthouse.
Iris's mind churned with everything she learned that evening, each revelation bringing more and more questions to the front of her mind.
Why did her parents hate her so much?
Was there more to the Ackery's agreement?
What did Nash have to do to get them to break it?
But more than anything else, Iris could not shake one solitary question. It burned in the back of her throat, desperate to be given a voice. And when she could fight it no longer, she gave in.
"Did you mean it?" she blurted out. The words crackled in the charged silence. Slower the second time, she repeated her question. "What you said to my parents, did you mean it?" Her voice faded with every word, by the end it was barely more than a whisper.
"Mean what?" Nash's reply came quick, his tone unreadable. His blue eyes remained fixed on her face, never wavering.
"About wanting me... even when my parents had...
plans. That you fought to have me. Did you mean that I was worth all the trouble?
That I meant something to you?" Her heart hammered against her ribcage.
What if he laughed at her? Iris had no idea what she would do if he came back with derision. She doubted she would survive it.
Nash's jaw clenched, his gaze finally leaving her to settle on the dance of the city lights outside the window. He remained silent for several long moments. Iris gripped her hands together between her knees, forcing herself to give him the time he needed to focus on his thoughts.
When he finally turned to her, his eyes were steely, resolute.
"From the first moment I saw you, ma fleur, you meant more to me than anyone or anything else in this world.
There was never any doubt in my mind—you were mine.
" His words were raw, his eyes burning with some inner fire.
She couldn't explain it, but she believed him.
Whatever he meant when he said she was nothing to him all those years ago, she now knew she misunderstood. She must have.
There was no other explanation. The man staring at her with such intensity was honest and real in a way she had never seen from him before.