“I’ll see what I can do,” Arnauld replied, then left with heavy boot steps.
A spike of hope cut through my chest as I reached for the doorknob, only to be dashed when I found it still firmly locked. Damn him for being conscientious.
I climbed off the bed and relentlessly paced the floorboards while forming the bare bones of an escape plan. No fucking way was I going to be forced into marriage just to appease my father and his stupendous legacy aspirations. I’d rather tear it to the ground than help build his sordid empire.
Black SUVs with dark-tinted windows came and went from the front yard. Numerous arrived, stayed varying lengths of time, then left again on seemingly urgent business. I stood at my window overlooking the driveway for untold minutes until heavy boot steps stopped outside my door again.
A sharp knock and Arnauld's voice came muffled. “Hallie, I’ve retrieved some clothing from your room for you.”
Instant suspicion clawed through me. “I didn’t have any clothes in that room.”
“Your father was prepared for your arrival.”
I stepped onto the bed and leaned against the locked door. “How do you mean, prepared?”
“Also part of the details I can’t disclose. Now, open the door—at least enough for me to give you these.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
Gnawing hesitation warned my head not to believe a damned word that came from the man’s mouth, and after I’d pushed the bed aside just enough to allow the door to be cracked open, I stood on the mattress with the shower hose at the ready.
“Open the door and push the clothes through,” I demanded.
Keys jingled, then the heavy lock disengaged. The door whipped open with force that bounced off the bed frame and slammed closed in Arnauld’s face.
“Open the fucking door further!”
“Absolutely not. You seriously thought I would be that stupid? Now, clothes please.”
The door opened carefully this time and softly bumped against the bed frame, then a hand thrust through the narrow opening with a fist full of clothes I hadn’t seen before.
“Shoes will be out here since they won’t fit through the fucking opening,” he snapped.
I shoved the door closed and leaned against it while eyeing the clothes. Beige pants. A matching tailored jacket. A pretty cream collared shirt. Nothing in the style I’d normally wear.
“Where did you get these? They’re horrible,” I called, holding up the pants to check the size. It was my size. Exactly.
My top lip curled when I spotted a matching panty and bra set, selected by Arnauld.
“Like I said, your father has been expecting you for some time and wanted to be prepared.”
“The underwear is my size. That’s not prepared, that’s fucking psychotic!”
“Your mom chose those for you but hoped they’d never be needed,” came his murmur.
Having already slipped on the panties and fastened the bra, I paused with one leg poised to push into the dress pants. “What’s my mom got to do with this?”
“Get fucking dressed, Hallie!”
“I want answers.”
“You will get answers when I givethem to you, and that sure as fuck won’t be until after you’ve met with your father. Now, hurry the fuck up.”
I huffed and tugged the pants up, then buttoned the dress shirt with snappy movements. I scoffed at the matching beige jacket and left it in a crumpled heap on the bed.
“Socks?”