Leticia deals with my family too, but my mother lavishes her with compliments because she’s her choice. Father pretends she doesn’t exist. Sylvie avoids her at all costs.
My life, my future that’s been chosen for me, makes no damn sense. I don’t have to marry Leticia and ensure the family bloodlines are well-kept. What a bunch of horse shit. Mother treats our lineage as if we’re in medieval times, and why the hell is that even necessary?
It’s actually…insane.
“Sit down,” my dad suddenly demands.
I frown at him. “I can stand.”
“No.” His voice is cold. Just like his eyes. “I said, sit down.”
I do as he demands, anger flowing through my veins freely. I don’t like being told what to do, and my old man knows it.
“You’re not going to throw away a carefully made plan because you’ve been getting extra good pussy lately. I won’t allow it.” His voice is firm. Unyielding. “Trust me. Ultimately, her mother wasn’t worth the chase. I lost my entire marriage because of Janine. Don’t go losing your head and thinking this girl is what you want. She’s not.”
“It’s not about the girl,” I say. “It’s more about the girl opening my eyes and making me realize I don’t need to follow the same path as every Lancaster who came before me. I bet ol’ Augustus the first didn’t let his mother choose his future bride for him when he was a kid. I bet he lived his life and did whatever the hell he wanted. He eventually fell in love and got married like normal people do.”
“We’re not normal people any longer,” he says drolly.
“Right. We’re people with a shit ton of money and a fuck ton of drama that comes with it. Those are the only things I can think of that makes us not normal people.” I fall back into my chair with an irritated sound. “I don’t want to marry Leticia.”
“We’re not asking you to marry her now, son.”
“I don’t want to marry her now, or five years from now, or even twenty years from now. I don’t love her,” I stress.
“You barely know her.”
“I know enough that I don’t want to be with her. I’m sure she doesn’t want to be with me either. And if she does, it’s only because it’s been drilled in her head that it’s the right thing to do. She doesn’t know me. She’s probably not even attracted to me.”
“You’re a Lancaster. Trust me, you’re attractive to her,” he says with a chuckle.
“Only because of our money.” I jump to my feet, letting my annoyance fly. “You’re treating this like one big joke, when it’s my life we’re talking about here.”
“And it’s such a bad life you have, no? Oh wait, you have everything you could ever want. All the money in the world. You don’t have to lift a finger for the rest of your goddamned life, and you’re worried about your future bride? Who, I might add, is a very attractive young woman who will tolerate all of your bullshit with a smile on her face. Your only requisite is you must fuck her and make pretty Lancaster babies. That’s it.” He scowls at me. “Big fucking deal, son. Big. Fucking. Deal.”
“You told me I should wait it out and marry for love, just last night,” I say, my voice faint, my future flashing before my eyes. Boring. Cold. Just like my parents.
He frowns, as if trying to recollect what he said. “I don’t remember saying that, and even if I did, I didn’t mean it. I was drunk.”
“Isn’t that when we’re being our most truthful?” I ask, trying to grasp onto something. Anything but my stark reality.
He sighs. “You caught me in a vulnerable moment. Love is for fools. Treat your marriage like a business deal, and it’s a lot easier.”
My head spins. No fucking way. I won’t do it.
“I’m. Not. Marrying. Her,” I say between clenched teeth.
My father’s eyes narrow as he watches me. “Just because you turned eighteen yesterday doesn’t mean you get to suddenly control your every move. You still have obligations.”
“Like what? Marrying a complete stranger when I graduate college? Sounds like absolute bullshit to me.” I tap my chest with my index finger. “I have money. Money you don’t control, and you can’t touch. And that infuriates you, doesn’t it? When you turned eighteen, all the money was still under your father’s control. Lucky for me, my mother comes from a wealthy family as well.”
“Not as wealthy as a Lancaster.”
“What the fuck ever. This song is completely overplayed. I’m not doing this.” I turn and head for the door, my father’s words stopping me cold.
“You’re going to eventually marry Leticia,” he says. “Whether you like it or not. You don’t have a choice.”
I glance over my shoulder. “That’s the difference between you and me, Dad. Because we always have a choice. You just didn’t see yours.”
Thirty-Five
Summer
“You don’t think it’s too much?” I stare at my reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that. We’re in Sylvie’s room, getting ready for a party that one of the neighbors is throwing tonight.
And by neighbors, I mean some giant palatial estate like this one, and there will be hundreds of people there, most of them close to our age. There will be booze and drugs and things will no doubt get out of control. Sylvie is beside herself in glee over all the potential this party has tonight.
Potential drama, I’m sure.
And one thing this dress will bring is major drama.
“You’re covered,” Sylvie says reassuringly, moving to stand right next to me so we can both stare into the mirror.
“It’s super short.”
“You have long legs. They look even longer in that dress.” She smirks. “At least your tits aren’t hanging out.”
“Right, because the entire back is open instead. No biggie.” I turn to the side, sinking my teeth into my lower lip as I contemplate myself in this dress. One wrong move and I’ll expose side boob. My gaze meets Sylvie’s in the mirror. “It’s too much, don’t you think? I want to make a good impression.”
“All the girls will be wearing dresses that are too short or their tits will be falling out of the top,” Sylvie says, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, who are you there to impress?”
Easy for her to say. She grew up in this atmosphere, with these people. Her position among society and her friends is solid. Me? I’m the girl no one knows. Once they figure out exactly who I am, they’ll be shocked to see me hanging out with the Lancasters.
But I’m the one who also bought this burnout black velvet patterned dress, thinking it was a solid choice. While it felt like the right purchase when we were in the store, now I’m worried.
Too late for that, I guess.
We finish getting ready. Sylvie’s dress is a dark burgundy velvet, form fitting like mine, but with spaghetti straps and a low neckline. My tits would actually be falling out of that dress, but Sylvie is smaller than me and carries it off perfectly. I curl her hair and then she straightens mine, and we both put on heavy eye makeup, with lots of dark liner and shadow.