Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Biting her lip, she doesn’t respond. Her eyes are shimmering with…tears?
What the hell? I can’t remember ever seeing my mother cry.
“Mom,” I say in a whisper, silently begging her to tell me something, anything, to let me know she’s half-human and I’m more to her than a pawn sliding across a chessboard.
A sharp knock sounds at the door.
“Time to go.” It’s my brother Saul.
Go…where?
She straightens her shoulders and presses her lips into a thin line.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice hardening. When she doesn’t answer, I turn and yank open the bedroom door.
Saul stands in the hallway, a mini, slimmer version of my dad, his brows knit together. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters. “Took you long enough.”
“If I’d known you were waiting, I’d have taken longer.”
Unruffled, he looks past me to Mom. “You didn’t tell her shit, did you?”
My stomach drops. What games are they playing with me now? “Tell me what?”
That’s when I notice Saul’s dressed in a suit. The only times I’ve ever seen him wear a suit was to funerals. This can’t be good.
He shakes his head and takes a step toward me so he can grip me by the arm. “You’ll see. And I’m telling you now, Harper, don’t you even think about running.”
My pulse spikes. I’m dizzy. I know exactly what my family’s capable of.
If he’s telling me not to run – then he’s planning something that’s going to make me want to. Are they making me fly to Italy again? Oh, God. No. I can’t leave, not again. I have to stay here. I’m needed here.
They like to give me shit for running but none of them know the real reason.
Saul curses under his breath as he marches me downstairs, his hand still tight on my arm. “Will you let go of me? I’m not going anywhere.”
He holds me tight. “She should’ve told you. Why did you think she made you get changed into something nice?”
My heart beats so fast I’m dizzy.
“Because we were doing a photo shoot. So I could post online, obviously.” I throw his own words back at him. “It’s my job, remember? How I earn my keep? It’s what I’m supposed to do.”
“Did,” he says with a sigh. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, and I wasn’t gonna tell you before it was time, but now you need to know.”
Ice courses through my veins. I swallow, trying to quell my rising nerves but it doesn’t seem to satisfy the unease.
He’s walking me down the length of the hallway to the stairs, our steps noiseless on the thick carpet. This house is enormous. What most people don’t know is that three quarters of the rooms are vacant.
“So are you going to tell me or what?” I ask, my voice betraying me. The relentless quaking won’t stop.
He clenches his teeth. Stops marching me for a minute. Finally shakes his head and says in a rush of words, “Your future husband’s here.”
Before I can recover from the blow of what he just said, he grips my arm so hard I wince in pain. “No. Fucking. Running. I swear to God, I’ll kill you if you run. We’re here to discuss the details and if you fuck this up, there’ll be hell to pay.”
My mind is still stuck on… Future. Husband.
Of course I knew the chances of me being married off to someone were pretty high, but you think about it the same way you think about death. It’s there, it will come, but why worry about that now when it’s eons away?
I’m twenty years old. I haven’t even graduated college yet.
I think back to the look my mother had and the sinking feeling her obvious distress gave me. She loves to parade me around and cash in the clicks, and they love to take every penny I get, but this… this is different.
I try to yank my arm out of my brother’s grip, but it's too tight. His fingers are digging into me so hard it’ll bruise.
We start walking again, this time at a faster pace and his grip has tightened.
“I won’t run,” I say tightly. “You’re hurting me.”
“I don’t trust you.” The impeccable carpet flies under our feet, the scent of lavender cleanser hitting my nose. My mother’s prepared for our guest, probably all day. How could I have missed this?
I try to get a grip as my mind reels. I try to coach my way through it.
I’ve been through way worse than this. I can handle whatever this is.
And he didn't say I'm getting married today.
I can go play nice, pretend I’m docile… then find my way out. I've done it many times over the years. They’ve always found me, and there have always been repercussions, but I can do it. I know I can.
Do I hear a voice? I try not to imagine which one of the assholes my father hangs out with thinks he’s going to take me home.