“I don’t want to talk about family matters openly,” I said stiffly.
“I am your family now,” he said.
I looked up and from the expression on his face I knew he wasn’t the sort of man people argued with. I nodded slowly even though I was roiling with resentment inside. How dare he walk in here after years of ignoring me and expect me to treat him with an ounce of respect?
“Yes, it happens sometimes,” I said. “My mother too.”
His mouth thinned and he looked up at the house looming over us like an imposing shadow. I knew somewhere inside, my mother was pressed against the window, trying to guess what we were talking about.
“Is that all?” he said. “Is there anything else that is potentially dangerous to your well-being that I should know about as your husband.”
“You’re not my husband,” I whispered.
“I will be. Answer me, Olivia.”
My temper broke. I’d been bossed around my whole life, told what to do, what to wear, what to eat, who to marry and I was sick of it. Beyond sick of it. A part of me had hoped Lucien would be different, but he was quickly proving me wrong.
“Alright, you want to know the truth?” I hissed. “My father loses his temper all the time and hits me and my mother. And she slaps me around too. I don’t know why, maybe because it’s the only thing she can control. But worse than that, she measures me and weighs my food and counts my calories and forces me to fit into tiny dresses I don’t even want to wear.”
I paused for a breath and managed to look him in the eye. There was something brewing in his gaze for the first time and it took me a moment to realize it was anger.
“Your mother does what?” he asked, his voice soft.
“She’s afraid you won’t want me if I gain any weight at all, so she’s had me on a diet since I was fourteen. It’s the most…soul draining thing to sit there and watch everyone around me eat what they want and however much they want…but I have to eat another plate of steamed vegetables. And nothing else. I’m so goddamn sick of being hungry. And that’s worse than being hit.”
There was a glitter in his gaze now, a dangerous kind of light that sent a chill through my body.
“I’m sick of being measured and weighed,” I gasped, my throat closing and tears springing to my eyes. “I’m sick of the humiliation of it. I hate it…so much.”
He reached out a hand and I flinched violently, tensing for a blow. Instead, his middle finger touched my collarbone, tracing it to the base of my throat.
“I wondered why you were so thin,” he murmured. “You don’t look as if you should be, you look like you should have…curves. But I can see your whole collarbone, pressing up under your skin. It’s awful.”
I blinked, glaring at the ground. “Thank you, I’ve always wanted to be awful.”
“No, it’s awful that you’ve been abused,” he said.
The wave of relief at hearing someone else say those words was overwhelming. I’d known in my subconscious mind that this life, this treatment, wasn’t normal, but there was no one to articulate it until now. A weight lifted from my shoulders just from a single moment of validation.
“I don’t want you living here anymore,” he said shortly, stepping back. “You will come live in the mansion with me.”
He spun on his heel, his body like a cannonball speeding through the air toward its target. I scrambled after him as he crossed the garden and pushed the gate ajar, striding across the lawn in the direction of the house. My heart pounded in my chest and my mind whirled too fast for me to form coherent thoughts. What was he doing?
“Lucien, where are you going?” I gasped, as I caught up to him on the porch.
“I’m going to instruct your parents that you are to live with me.”
“I can’t live with you before we’re married!”
“Strangely enough, you can do just that.”
He pushed open the door and entered the house, his crisp wingtips clicking against the floor as he stepped into the front hall. I burst after him and then stopped in my tracks. What was I doing? I couldn’t get in between whatever was about to go down between my father and Lucien. They were both underbosses and any altercation between them threatened their relationship as allies. This was dangerous ground and I wasn’t equipped for such a precarious situation.
Lucien paused before my father’s study and knocked. I lingered behind him until he turned and noticed me, holding up two fingers and beckoning me over.
“You may come in with me,” he said.
The door opened and my father appeared, his eyes narrowing in confusion as they fell on us. Lucien inclined his head and reached behind him, holding out his palm to me. It took me a moment to realize he meant for me to take his hand and I did so hesitantly. It was a little rough, but warm and strangely comforting as it engulfed my fingers.