“Your mother requestsyour presence in her study.”
Jasper brought me my coffee and this announcement, given only after I’ve taken a couple sips under his watchful eye. It’s far too early in the morning to start my day this way, especially after my interaction with my father last night—and the fact that I have a throbbing headache.
“You waited on purpose,” I tell him, settling the mug on my nightstand.
“She’s rather eager for you to make an appearance.” He pauses, watching me. Jasper is at least sixty-five, with a head full of white hair and an aristocratic flair. He’s been a butler for my family since I can remember. I don’t know life without Jasper.
“Why?” I wake up on the wrong side of the bed every morning, and this one is no exception. I’m feeling particularly cross. Doesn’t help that I drank too much alcohol and got into a physical altercation with my father.
“The photos are in,” he says.
“The—oh.” I nod, reaching over for my mug so I can take another fortifying sip. How fake that photo session had felt yesterday. I still can’t get over it. The things Perry said to me, the way he made me feel, like I could trust him with my life. He teased me constantly, but it wasn’t so bad, was it?
I am a contradiction. I don’t know how to feel about the man.
“I don’t know if I want to see them,” I finally say, referring to the photos.
I haven’t flat-out told Jasper I’m marrying a man against my will, but I don’t act like I’m excited about my upcoming nuptials either. He’s discreet enough that he would never say a word, but he’s also smart enough to know that something is up.
“Your mother exclaimed over many of them, so I’m assuming the photos are well received,” he says.
“Great. Perry and I must’ve pulled it off, then,” I mumble, not even bothering to hide that the entire thing is fake.
“The two of you make a beautiful couple,” Jasper says, as diplomatic as ever.
“You saw the photos?”
“Your mother showed me a few.” Jasper hesitates only for a moment, his head dropping to watch Doja wind her way around his legs. She loves him. Always has. “He’s quite handsome.”
“My fiancé?” I raise a brow, my lips never leaving the rim of my cup. If I could mainline coffee in the morning, I probably would.
Jasper nods.
“I suppose.” I think of Perry. With the easy smiles and vulgar mouth. He’d probably get along with my brothers, though none of them smile much. They’re all too cunning, contemplating their next victim.
Would they want to hurt Perry in defense of me? I can’t imagine it. Maybe Crew. I’m the closest to him. My other brothers Finn and Grant, they’re older than us and never gave the two of us much thought. Once they were sent off to Lancaster Prep—the school in Long Island that’s been in my family for generations—they forgot all about us. Now they run a successful real estate firm here in city, the both of them complete workaholics.
“Your young man has a bit of an edge,” Jasper allows.
My young man. That’s hilarious.
“An edge?” I would love to know what Jasper means by that. “What exactly are you referring to?”
“He seems rather…rebellious. At least he appears to be. Might be the second son in him. Like your own father,” Jasper observes as he slowly makes his way to my bedroom door. “Make sure you go see your mother, miss. She’s excited to show you the photos.”
“Will do,” I tell him cheerily, smiling big until my bedroom door closes.
My smile fades the moment Jasper’s gone and I contemplate what he said. How Perry is a second son—like my father.
If Perry is anything like my father, I will steal away in the middle of the night, under darkness where no one will catch me.
Once I’ve consumed enough coffee to feel human, I brush my teeth and hair. Get dressed. Don’t bother with makeup or anything like that because I plan on going nowhere. And once I’m properly groomed—or groomed enough for my mother’s exacting standards—I make my way to her study, where I find her sitting at her delicate white desk, her gaze stuck on the massive computer screen in front of her.
“There you are,” she says, never taking her eyes off the monitor. “Wait until you see these photos!”
I slowly walk over to her, stopping just behind her desk chair. She’s on the photographer’s webpage, a gallery of thumbnail photos of us on the screen. “Want to start at the beginning?” she asks excitedly.
“Sure.”