“I don’t want it.”
Paulina frowns. “I’m afraid I must insist. It’s tradition, dear. You get used to that, being part of the Somerville family. Just you wait.”
I snatch the dress from her, stand up, and yank open the lace blouse. It doesn’t take much to tear it, and from there, the ancient fabric does the rest of the work. Paulina stumbles back as if I’ve just shoved a dagger through her heart. Honestly, that might have been preferable.
“You ungrateful little—”
While I march out of the room, I hear her shout for Parker to go after me. I’m about five steps from the door when Parker grabs my elbow. Instead of dragging me back to the den, he yanks me into a small office and shuts the door behind us.
“Why the fuck do you hate me so much?” I bark at him. “Why are you so demanding? Why do you subject me to this fucking pony show?”
He stares at me without blinking.
When he doesn’t respond, I growl. “Could you ever love me, Parker? Well? Could you?”
Anger clouds his irises. I take a step back, fearing I might have pushed him too far. It’s one thing to insult his mother. It’s another entirely to insult him. Although I’m not sure why asking if he could ever love me would ever be insulting.
“You really don’t remember, do you?”
I frown and shake my head.
“When you were a kid, you snitched on my favorite cousin.”
I shrug. “What are you…?”
“Felipe set him up later. In prison. He got fucking shanked. Because of what you said, Alexandra. Do you get it now?”
My lower lip quivers as I stare back in shock. I don’t even remember saying something about any of his cousins. Lately, my memory has been too hazy to recall much at all.
But the way his jaw is set and his determined gaze holds mine makes me a believer.
“You better not screw me over the same way, Alexandra,” he warns in a low voice. “And our wedding will happen. Whether you fucking like it or not.”
***
The ride home is bumpy, awkward, and fraught with silence. My mother picks at her nails, a trait I ended up adopting at some point to my unfortunate realization. While I observe her out of my peripheral vision, I notice the tight lines around her mouth and eyes.
“You just had to go and be a bitch, didn’t you?” she chides. “Tearing up that dress like a fucking heathen. Unbelievable.”
“Would you have worn that dreadful thing?”
She snorts. “That’s not the point.”
“I can’t imagine myself with Parker. He hates me. And for a good damn reason too.”
“You’re foolish for not taking both the son and the father. Why wouldn’t you want a comfortable life like that?”
I grimace. “You’re disgusting. I’m also a firstborn here, Mother, not a bargaining chip in your little power play. I’m as valuable as a son.”
She scoffs. “That’s not your purpose in life.”
Marie D’Hautpoul’s words circle my mind about my mother, about how she’s preparing her next move. Since my mother hasn’t gotten her way, she’s trying to weasel her power into another place. The only trouble is I can’t see where. Which makes her all the more dangerous now that I know what she’s capable of doing.