Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Bryant Morelli is not the father I had hoped for.
He is not a nice man. Not a loving man. Frankly… I often wonder if he’s a man at all.
Closing my eyes, trying not to hate myself for following every order dictated by the sick monster, I reach for the tube of lipstick. Delicately applying the red paint to my lips, I wonder why I am even bothering. Maybe I just need to leave tonight even if it means going on the run again. But then again, that would be me becoming my mother’s daughter. I can’t keep doing what she’d do. I have to think of the big picture and not let my impulsive inheritance blind me and make me act carelessly any longer.
The door opens without even a knock. My father walks into the room and studies my appearance. Dressed in a black tuxedo, he looks even more intimidating.
“Let’s get this over with.” He takes a few steps toward me and extends his arm. “We’re going to announce the wedding is occurring next week at this party.”
“Next week?” The idea seems impossible and… terrifying.
“We’ve been waiting long enough.”
The Sidorovs insisted on hosting an engagement party at a fancy restaurant in the heart of Manhattan tonight. My father had resisted the idea—not proud to show me off—but it was obvious that the Sidorovs wanted power players to be aware that a union of the families was occurring. They don’t want Lyriope Bailey who hides in the shadows. They want Lyriope Morelli who is like a trophy they can show off. Every single time the Sidorovs would want to discuss a big wedding, my father shut them down. Bryant would barely even look at Pavel at the dinners, and when he did, it was with a scowl. It was obvious that my father hated my future husband, and yet he still plans on marrying me off to the man.
The entire drive is in silence. Not that I expected anything else. Even though Bryant has never actually laid a hand on me, he’s beaten me down. I’ve never had someone look at me with such dislike in their eyes before, and that’s saying something since my mother went through a slew of loser men in her life who only saw me as a nuisance. Sarah made an excuse for not attending tonight which meant it was just me and my father in an awkward but normal silence.
When we enter the large banquet room of the restaurant, every inch of space is draped in elegance. Strung lights twinkle all around, brightly colored flowers burst from large vases, and satin ribbons of orange and red hang from the ceiling. Women in slinky black dresses walk around with platters of food and flutes of champagne. Music fills the room from a full string orchestra in the far back corner of the room. Circular tables are scattered about the room with large centerpieces made of roses intertwined with black twisted twigs that appear as if they were roots swallowing up the delicate flowers. The tablecloths are a bright red rather than the typical white you would expect to see. Yet no one sits at these tables for they are all too busy mingling, as dinner will not be served for some time. The sounds, the smells, and the overall buzz of the room are truly intoxicating.
I can’t help but be impressed and feel… special. As sick as this forced marriage is, I’ve never had a party thrown for me by a parent. Yes, it’s for my marriage with a disgusting man who reminds me of a snail. His slimy head only popping out once in a while when his uncle makes him. But for a moment in time I can just take it all in and feel like the belle of the ball.
The guests only add to the energy. Each person is dressed in their finest. Women in gowns, jewels dripping from wrists, earlobes, and necks, are sipping from their glasses as they stand near their men. Every man in the room wears suits of black and exude mystery and danger to even the most innocent of eyes. If one word had to be used to describe the guest list, it would be the word power.
My father instantly is greeted by a swarm of people. I feel as if I’m being suffocated by the constant praise, the ridiculous amounts of ass-kissing, and the undertones of fear these men and women have for this man. It’s clear to me they all know Bryant Morelli is ruthless, and it is better to be on his good side than his bad. Still, the groveling makes me sick to my stomach.
I stand by his side as a complete stranger, someone no one in this room knows or even recognizes. I never speak. I never look anyone in the eye, and I never give Bryant a reason to be angry with me. He will. I know he will and won’t hesitate doing it in front of all his men and business associates, as has been proven before. This is a room full of people who would never question one thing the man did, even if it was talking down to his unwanted daughter. But I still hold an ounce of faith that maybe—just maybe—he’ll properly introduce me to someone as his daughter. It’s a long shot, but a girl can still dream.