I won’t accept that. I deserve more. I want more.
My brother hangs up his cell, getting my attention, and looks at me. “We have a problem,” he states.
My whole life is a fucking problem.“What?”
“Luke is missing.”
I snort. “Don’t toy with me like that.” That’s not a problem, that’s a prayer answered.
“I’m serious.” He swallows, looking around the large room nervously as if he’s going to appear out of thin air. “He’s not here. He never arrived. He’s also not at the house. He’s missing.”
“I’m not sure why that’s a problem.” I don’t want to marry the sick bastard. Luke Cabot is the highest-ranking Lord you can come by. Which just makes this even worse.
He steps over to me. “Laikyn …”
The door opens and my father enters with my mother. I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m guessing this good fortune has nothing to do with you two?”
My mother’s injected lips seem to thin a tad at my comment. She’s told me a million times that this is just the life we live. That it’s a ‘tradition’ and that I just have to accept it. That as far as Lord and Lady goes, we’re royalty. Bull-fucking-shit. I’d rather be someone’s bitch than a Lord’s Lady.
My father, however, stares at the floor while running a hand through his dark hair. “Daddy?” I ask, stepping over to him, holding my dress in my hands so I don’t step on the hem. “What’s going on?”
His throat works, swallowing before his eyes find mine. There’s a look of regret in them, and hope fills my chest. Maybe he’s realized that I don’t want this life.
He clears his throat. “I just received a call…”
“Please tell me you did this—called off my wedding?” I rush out, my words hopeful.
“I’m sorry, Laikyn, but the wedding is still on.” He sighs.
“But Miller said he’s missing.” I point at my brother.
“You are no longer to wed Luke.” He yanks on the collar of his button-up.
Picking up the dress so I don’t trip over it in my six-inch hooker heels—that my soon-to-be husband also picked out—I take a step back, my heart picking up speed. “I don’t understand. If he’s not here—”
“A new Lord has chosen you,” he interrupts me.
My mother places her hand over her mouth, trying to quite a sob.
“No,” I argue. “That can’t be.” It was decided that Luke would be my husband when I was sixteen—five years ago. Things like this aren’t just changed at the last minute. I’ve lived the last five years preparing for this day. To be his wife. What he wanted. A Lord can’t choose to marry me, not when I’m already promised to another.
“Who?” my brother demands. “Who in the hell would make this change?” Fisting his hands to his sides.
I reach up and grab my pearls that my mother gave me. She thought they would give me some kind of comfort and I laughed, but now I hold on to them as if they’re an anchor.
“I—” The door swings open once again, this time hitting the interior wall and making me jump.
A set of baby blue eyes meet mine and my stomach drops. I haven’t seen them in years, but they have haunted my dreams ever since.
“Tyson,” my brother growls, shoving me to the side and pulling me out of that memory, and steps in front of me. “What are you …?”
Ryat, Tyson’s best friend, slams the door shut just as hard as he opened it.
I take a step back, tripping over the dress, but thankfully the stained-glass stops me from falling to my ass.
“How?” my father growls, turning to face him.
Tyson just gives him an evil smile that reminds me of how fucked up he really is. “Leave us,” he orders.