“Have a look.” She walks over and drops the stack of papers in front of me.
“What is it?” I look down, thinking they’re legal documents.
“Nothing much, just the Belmont Trust.”
My eyes scan over the first page and I know I should push it away because I have no right to look over this. But the way she’s laughing and how smug she is, there has to be a reason.
“In ten months he has to produce an heir or he loses it all.” She points at the date on the paper and I see Dash’s birthday is the expiration date.
I shake my head. This can’t be right. “I thought maybe you were in on it and doing some sort of marriage of convenience, but you actually bought it. Brooklyn, honey, you’re so trusting. You really should know better.” She shakes her head at me.
She’s right, I should know better. Dash really is the jerk all my friends thought he was. I bet when he saw me so desperate for love and willing to trust anyone, he knew I was a perfect target. Why else did I fall for all of this? It must have been written all over my face that first night and he knew I was an easy mark.
“Are you gonna cry? Come on, let’s not make this more pathetic than it already is.”
One of the servers tries to hand me a napkin. “Are you okay?”
“Get back to work,” Charlotte snaps at the woman and snatches the napkin from her hand. She tosses it down onto the counter and scoffs.
“There’s no need to be rude.” I look over to the woman. “Thank you.” I give her a small smile and she nods at me before grabbing a tray of food and leaving the kitchen. The others follow her out, leaving me alone with Charlotte.
“So, are you going to scream at him or run out of here crying?”
“I feel sorry for you.” I sniff as I pick up the napkin and wipe my tears away with it.
“For me? I’m not the one being made a fool of.”
“I’d rather be made a fool than be someone who enjoys watching someone else’s pain. I’ll be a fool any day over what you are.”
“What am I?” she shrieks, and I realize my words hit a little too close to home.
“A miserable person.” I turn around and slowly make my way out of the kitchen.
I’m not running out of here, but I’m leaving. I’m going to my apartment with my real family who love me without conditions and limits.
Chapter Fifteen
Dash
I stand up and shake Brooklyn’s father’s hand and we say goodbye as we exit his office. I didn’t want to talk to him in the other room with everyone else in there. I wanted to speak to him privately and our conversation didn’t take long. Once it’s over I decide I’d have more fun in the kitchen with Brooklyn than I would trying to make small talk with a bunch of strangers.
On my way to locate the kitchen, I see the grand staircase beyond the foyer. There’s a blond woman at the top glaring at me with a cold expression. She’s got her hair pulled back in a severe knot that looks like it’s meant to flatten out the wrinkles around her eyes. She’s dressed in all black with dark red lips, and as I approach the stairs she descends them.
“You must be Dash.” Her tone doesn’t invite conversation, and when she gets to the next to last step she holds out her hand like I should kiss it. “I’ve heard all about you.”
I stare at her hand, and although I don’t want to be rude, I have a suspicion that this is Brooklyn’s stepmother, and for that alone she doesn’t deserve my good manners.
“Not from my Brooklyn, I’m certain.” I smile as politely as I can, but she doesn’t miss the slight dig. “You must be Victoria. And I’ve heard all about you.”
If it’s possible, her face gets even tighter as she presses her lips together and finally decides to drop the hand I have no plans on touching. She doesn’t move from the step she’s on and I have a feeling it’s so that I won’t be able to look down at her. With her on the stairs and me below her, she has the ability to look down her nose at me.
“I’m sure Brooky has told you all kinds of wonderful stories.” Her smile is as cold as her heart. “But to be honest, the real gossip is that from what I’ve been told, you’re in the market for a mare.”
“Excuse me?” I feel my eyebrows pull together in confusion as she puts a hand on her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she says, but she’s anything but sorry. “Aren’t you looking to stud yourself out? From the whispers I’ve heard you’ve got to produce a little bundle of joy rather quickly, and I’m guessing my stepdaughter was all too eager.” She tilts her head to the side as if I’m a child. “Those extra pounds must have finally paid off.”