“Dear Alex, you look…” The high-pitched feminine voice pauses, air sucking quickly before she proceeds, “Well, you look ready for the weekend.”
My grimace is hardly noticeable as I turn around to face Paulina Somerville—Parker’s mother. She’s dressed as elegantly as always, a beige romper cinched at the waist with a red sash. The stylish sun hat on her head guards reddish-brown hair, and green gemstones peer down at me from a sloped nose.
God, she’s nothing like her son in personality, but in physical appearance, it’s ridiculously uncanny. A pang of guilt ripples through my gut as I recall how her son was, just last night, fighting over whether he would be the first to fuck my unclaimed pussy.
I force a grin. “Hello, Paulina.”
“I was just telling your mother that I’m so excited to welcome you as a member of our family.”
My mother stands just beside Paulina, a look of horror on her face as she studies my outfit. Tight blue jeans torn just over the knees hug my hips, and a loose muscle tank hangs from my shoulders with a black sports bra underneath. White tennis shoes cover my feet. I look just like any other teenager.
But to my mother, I probably look like a sheer disappointment.
“Right,” Ophelia agrees, beady eyes spiking with fury. “Well, Paulina, so nice of you to drop by unannounced.”
Hard to miss my mother’s salt there.
Paulina plasters a phony look of thrill on her face and then shrugs her shoulders. “Toodles.”
When she disappears into the foyer, I wait until I hear the door open and shut with a confident clap and the retreating steps of the butler.
I purse my lips as I tuck my keys into my pocket. “I’m never marrying Parker.”
Mother snorts with amusement as she spins around and fumbles with the glasses on the bar. “Like I would want to be in-laws with that snooty lawyer bitch.”
I raise my eyebrows. Is my mother agreeing with me?
“But,” she adds, dashing my hope out the window, “you’ll have to pick someone.”
“I don’t want to pick anyone.”
A glare of disdain lands on me, pinning me in place near the couch. Her upper lip quivers slightly out of annoyance as she says, “You have four choices.”
“What do you mean?”
“Four marriage contracts,” she announces blandly as she lifts a glass of liquor. “Your late father decided to toss his eggs into four baskets instead of one.”
Four?
“Your little high school friends—Parker, of course, plus Lev, Soren, and that weird Tomas kid.”
My eyebrows raise higher. “I get to choose?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” She cuts her critical gaze in my direction. “So, don’t lose the only thing that gives you value, understand?”
“Yes, Mother.”
She’s talking, chattering on about something, but I don’t bother lingering to hear whatever else she has to say. I jingle my keys in my pockets as I head out the front door, the bright sun warming my shoulders and inviting me to shiver from the sudden shift in temperature. Soon, the warm rays infect my body and give me a sense of purpose.
I get to choose.
It’s a small hint of power, but I’ll fucking take it.
Because it’s all I have.