A Debt Owed(28)

Princess … he uses the name as an insult, but that same princess stares right back at me through this mirror. A princess who doesn’t belong in these shoes or these clothes, yet she has no choice in the matter. She’s getting married to the devil as payment for her father’s debt.

It’s hard to sigh when you don’t have any room to breathe, and someone is pulling and tugging on your bodice, trying to fit you into the outfit they made from scratch by hand. I don’t blame Jill for trying; she had to make it work within a few days. That’s all the time he gave her … all the time he gave me.

I should be protesting, screaming my lungs out, and punching my way through the door to get out. Instead, I’m just standing here staring at myself while I get dressed up as a dolly once again. If I fought Jill, he’d probably punish her instead of me and then force me to watch to make me feel guilty.

And I don’t wanna go through that again. I already apologized once the last time I acted out. I won’t let him humiliate me a second time. Right now, I’m letting it all happen, just like the tears that are a blink away from tumbling over my cheeks.

“Look at you!” she says when she’s finished. She’s radiating. “God, you look so beautiful.”

I give her a fake smile. “Thanks.”

“Well, go on, spin for me,” she says, clapping her hands like a little girl.

I tap my feet and do what she asks, never taking my eyes off the woman in the mirror who I don’t even recognize anymore.

“Perfect! What do you think?” she asks. “Do you think it’s too much?”

“No … I like it,” I lie. I can’t bear to hurt her feelings again the way I did last time. I may be a princess, but this princess has morals too. Hurting someone twice in a row isn’t something I stand for, even if she knows what she’s doing isn’t right.

She smiles, tears appearing in her eyes before she grabs my bouquet for me, and says, “Here. Hold it.” Before I can reply, she shoves it into my hands and snaps a shot with a Polaroid, waving the photo in front of me. “Look at you. So pretty,” she murmurs as we both stare at the shot. But all I see is a pretty girl trying to hide her misery.

“Oh, look at the time!” she exclaims, glancing at the clock before snatching the photo from my hand and tucking it into her pocket. “We need to get you ready to go.”

By go, she means walk down the aisle.

Have a ring put on my finger.

Get married.

The thought makes my heart drop, and my stomach feels as if it’s doing a corkscrew.

“C’mon, everyone’s probably already waiting for you,” Jill says, hurrying me out of the room.

Before I know it, I’m in the giant hall, right in front of the door that’ll open in a few seconds and lead straight to the altar. I’m ready to hurl, but I have to keep it together for the sake of my pride. For my father, who’s sitting in one of the front row seats along with my brother, eagerly awaiting my arrival and marriage to this cruel man. He didn’t even want to walk me down the aisle. But it doesn’t matter.

No one cares about what I think or what I want, and I have no choice. Either I do this or my father perishes, and probably a load of other people too if Easton doesn’t get his way.

So I take a deep breath, lift my head high, and strut toward the door in my expensive long-sleeved, laced up mermaid gown, determined not to cry.



Easton



When she appears from behind the closed doors, she takes my breath away. I didn’t see her beforehand because I’m old-fashioned like that, but she looks drop-dead gorgeous. Jill did her best for Charlotte with this spectacular mermaid wedding dress.

She walks down the aisle with flair and her head held high, her footsteps soft and poignant like a fierce lioness. She doesn’t look anyone in the eye … except for me. Her face doesn’t adorn a smile, but the way she looks at me … burns as hot as the sun.

I can’t stop the grin from appearing on my face with the knowledge this woman is about to become my wife. That, in mere minutes, I will put a ring on her finger and kiss her on the lips for the first time ever.

My Charlotte … No longer a Davis, she will finally be a Van Buren.

Until death do us fucking part.



Charlotte



My head spins from all the eyes honed in on me. I’m like a goddamn bomb about to go off. But my legs push me forward and bring me toward the altar to the man who will take my life and never give it back.

I’ll lose myself forever here … and I’m letting it happen without even fighting back. I should run, hide, do something.

Instead, I stand before my captor and let him take my hand.

Everything that follows is a blur.

A person talks about our history, our past, our future, but none of it registers. People rejoice, and everyone seems happy, so I don’t understand why I feel so dead inside. Why I go deeper into that pit of despair the longer this goes on.

My brother sits right in front of me, but he never looks me directly in the eyes. My father brings forward the rings. The sight of his face makes me want to burst into tears, but I keep it together for my own dignity. For my honor, my self-worth. My father sold my soul so he wouldn’t have to die … can I truly be mad at him? Or would I have done the same?

The proud look in his eyes and the kiss he plants on my forehead make me tremble, make me question everything I thought I knew about myself, and it grounds me. Him being here forces me to focus on the reason I’m doing this. Not just because I have no choice in the matter, but because this is the better option.