Damned whatever he did. “I understand. I choose Cadence Falstaff.”
There was a rumble of excitement, concern. Hard to tell. Orrin’s displeasure was clear, but then he nodded and called the next name.
“Way to raise the suspense,” Rory said. “Fun party. Kicks off with descriptions of mass destruction and rolls straight over hopes and prayers, and we are the chosen ones into matchmaker roulette.”
He looked at Susan who stared straight back, fury on her face. What kind of an enemy would she be?
Name after name was read. Couples moving off to sign the Origin book. They watched the procedure, sitting side by side in silence, not touching. The way Orrin barely looked at the paper he pulled from the hat, Zeke would bet there were no names written on them, that he was engineering
this from a plan and there was little that was random about it. It wasn’t a leap to see that Orrin had planned a different outcome for him and Cadence. No telling what damage they’d done by not following the script.
There were crowd favorite couples who got cheers when they declared for each other. Susan was not in one of them. She was claimed by a man in a red waistcoat and looked appalled. She’d gambled everything and lost. The other person not pleased about that was Orrin.
“Cadence will be so uptight,” Rory said. They’d both been scanning for her, hoping she’d come back to her seat. “You should go find her.”
The group had thinned quickly. He had no incentive to move. “Orrin wants you to be left here alone. The only person unclaimed.” Another humiliation.
She nodded, bumping her shoulder to his. “Something has changed, escalated. It’s time for me to let him think I’m breaking down.” She bumped his shoulder again, but this time didn’t shift away, turning her face to his. They stared at each other for too long. He pulled away first because there was a tissue-thin veneer of restraint stopping him from gathering her into his arms and holding on to her forever.
“Go, find Cadence and make everyone believe you love each other,” she said.
That might be harder than it sounded.
He’d had more practice pretending not to be in love.
Chapter Twenty
Once Zeke went in search of Cadence, Rory considered abandoning the table, but the brute who’d stopped her taking a walk earlier was watching. She had an inkling that if she tried to leave again, he’d block her and that would be more of a scene.
Maybe she wanted to make a scene.
Oh hell, she wanted to put her head on the table and sob into her arms, because this whole bonding ceremony had been too much. Spencer’s news of the doomsday made Zeke angry and he’d hesitated in claiming Cadence for so long she’d almost claimed the girl herself. He was off-center and that was concerning. He was bonding with Cadence and after an hour of mostly happy couples pairing off, that’d given Rory vertigo. Zeke wasn’t interested in Cadence, apart from saving her from sex and a pregnancy she didn’t want.
He’d have been happier with Susan.
Susan was attractive, she had spark, she was the sort of woman Zeke had fun with, took to bed and then to breakfast. Often. The thought of Zeke having sex with Susan made Rory’s stomach somersault.
For just a moment she rested her face in her hands and took a few deep breaths. This was only an amusement park ride for her and Zeke. Everything about it was artificial, engineered to make you forget which way was up. Designed to make you worry that your best friend in the world might like another woman more than he liked you.
Which was out of order for so many reasons, not least that they both had jobs to do.
Five people, including herself, left. Three left. A big cheer for the final couple who matched. That’s it, she wasn’t sitting there any longer as Orrin’s punchline. She pushed away from the table, knowing there were eyes on her, but staring only at Orrin before she made for the exit.
His door brute stopped her.
“He wants to see you.”
Now it was time for a scene.
“Tell him I’m tired. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Cute.” Brute made a turnaround gesture with a finger thick enough to be a gearstick. “Don’t want to be late for your intention ceremony.”
What fresh twist was this? She picked up a length of her maxi skirt and flashed it about, drawing Brute’s eyes. “I’m really not dressed for intentions.” If he’d caught a glimpse of her shin he’d been lucky. What was Orrin’s intention, other than keeping her starved for company and deprived of making a contribution, until she begged him to bond with her.
“Quit being a smartass,” the brute said.
Presumably Orrin wasn’t going to wait for her to beg.