She had me then, and she knew it, smiling in a way that brightened some of that hellfire in her eyes. “Sandra went to visit her friend on Old Isle.”
I tried, but I couldn’t stop my teeth from gritting. Sandra Rydell and my mom had never been friends. More like polite frenemies. I waited because there was obviously more to this stupid tale and because I couldn’t separate my teeth if I wanted to.
The fact that Sandra had gone there and had likely just put her in a state… I nuked the image.
There was a reason, aside from guilt, that I didn’t visit her myself.
“You’ll never guess who she happened to run into as she was heading to the wharf to catch the ferry back.”
I didn’t need to look at my father to know he’d wrestled every emotion into carefully controlled disinterest. I could feel the storm that still resided inside him vibrating in the air.
If January noticed, then she didn’t care. “Park Kelsey.”
Again, I waited, though I couldn’t keep my shoulders from stiffening.
January hummed. “She couldn’t help but overhear a conversation he was having on the phone about an upcoming show in California.” She paused for effect. “For his paintings.”
Fuck.
“We did ask him to stab someone,” Dad interjected. “He did that.”
“And it turned out to be nothing more than a flesh wound.” January waved her hand, flippant. “In any case, his task was child’s play compared to most. So,” she said, leaning forward to stare at me with a wrathful twinkle in her eyes. “Not only did you mess with the wrong woman’s daughter, but it would seem you failed your initiation. Not only did you fail,” she said, her voice softer but not gentle by any means, “but you planned to keep it a secret.” She shot a hard, narrowed glance at my father. “You and Elijah both.”
My dad didn’t say a word.
But I was guessing it was time I did. “I didn’t think…” I stopped and straightened in the chair. “What do you need me to do?”
“What a good little brat,” January sneered. “So ready to fix your royal mess.”
I had no choice, and we all knew it. Silas’s parents were now aware, so that meant anyone within Nightingale might also be.
They did not take well to traitors. All it took was one or two for our carefully veiled world to collapse and reveal itself.
“And you will fix this,” the woman in control of my every breath said, ice crusting each enunciated word. “You will not only prove your loyalty and remorse to me, but you must also show every member that you are loyal to this cause, and that you deserve to be here.”
I was ready, so I nodded. It couldn’t be worse than anything I’d already done. Nothing seemed all that bad after losing myself to this asinine cause anyway.
“You will marry my daughter.”
I choked instantly. “What?”
“And you will wed her before the entire enclave, so they can see for themselves that you can be trusted.”
Marry.
Wedding.
Fern.
No. Hell fucking no.
I glared at my father, who was staring at me, his chin propped on his hand, fingers rubbing. “Yes, Jude.”
January continued, “Nightingale may be aware of this arrangement, but the rest of the island may not.” She lifted a pile of papers off her desk and smacked them on the concrete before laying them near the edge with a pen. “To them, you are in love. To them, you felt so wretched about what you did to her at prom that you took her out for dinner to apologize, and the rest is history.”
I stared at the paper, knowing it was a contract for both Nightingale and the courthouse.
A marriage application.
“January,” I croaked out. “Anything else, I’ll—”
“Quiet,” my father snapped, returning to his rightful throne, and my eyes closed. “You will fix this. January has been extremely generous. Most would be rotting corpses in the ocean, or worse. Sign the paperwork and say thank you.”
January waited, brows poised high with expectancy.
But I couldn’t move. I looked from her to the papers and back again until my eyes were tugged to that frame. To the picture of Fern.
My heart wasn’t beating. It was roaring, rattling the cage it was trapped in, wanting to be done with all the fucking carnage already.
“Sign,” January said.
I picked up the paperwork, unsure why I bothered reading it. It wasn’t like it mattered what it said, but something had my mouth opening before I could control the urge.
“We,” I started, then swallowed. “We have to live together?”
“But of course,” she said. “A marriage isn’t exactly believable if the husband is running around campus, screwing his side piece and doing god knows what else, now, is it? Of which I’m sure you’ll do regardless, like the swine that you are.” My dad made a noise, and January sighed. “If you’re not living together, it’ll be plain as day that you’re married on paper only, and I won’t have my daughter embarrassed again.”
“Why have her marry me then?”
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s a means to many ends. Now sign.”
Rising, I crossed the soft rug to the desk and picked up the pen. I stared down at the marked lines, the spaces awaiting Fern’s signature, and wondered how she’d feel once presented with these, when she saw that I’d already signed them.
She’d undoubtedly be far happier than I.
My teeth gritted again. The pen creaked in my fist as I leaned down and stabbed my initials at the bottom of each page.
“When will Fern initiate?” I dared to ask. I may as well, seeing as everything was ruined once again. I’d known the answer before I asked, but I wanted confirmation of how far January was willing to go to protect her daughter.
I was willing to bet Fern still didn’t know about Nightingale, and just how ruthless her mother and some of the occupants of the island really were.
“The moment she marries you and realizes what a waste of air you are,” January said. “I have hope that this endeavor will have her over you in no time.”
I was certain she already was, and if she wasn’t… well, then I wanted some of what she was smoking.
“Jude,” my father said, buttoning his jacket at the door.
Looking from the man to the woman who’d both sent me straight to the gates of hell for the second time, I said between clenched teeth, “Thank you.” Then I followed my father out into the hall, January’s smug smile branded into my back as surely as the tattoo.
I waited until we were once again seated in the Town Car before I exploded. “What in the ever-loving fuck, Dad?” I couldn’t believe this shit. “Marriage? Arranged marriage?”
“They’re far more common in this day and age than you’d believe.” He pulled out his phone, scrolling. “Settle down. The contract states you can divorce after twelve months.”
But we had to live together for a whole year. I had college. I had a girlfriend.
I had a life that I thought no longer included a certain redheaded, desperate girl with gigantic fucking issues. “You’re making me spend twelve months with that whack job?”