Sweet Retribution (Rydeville High Elite #3)(29)

“It’s not,” I admit, cutting across him. “And it’s infinitely harder when everyone keeps referencing shit I don’t want to think about or talk about. I just want to focus on our plans, because the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can be with my husband and start properly living my life.”

“I hear you.” He kisses the top of my head. “I know you have something to say, but before that, there is something I need to tell you. Try not to get mad.”

“Has anyone ever not gotten mad when someone says that?” I question, and a half smile graces his mouth.

“Father has found me a replacement fiancée,” he blurts. “And you’ve been summoned to dinner on Sunday to meet her.”

I slam to a halt, turning to my brother with my jaw trailing the ground. “No! He can’t do that to you! To Jane!”

“Jane is gone, A,” he quietly confirms. “And you know he can and will do this.”

“Who is she?”

“All I know is her name is Alessandra Mathers, and she’s from out of state.”

“Weren’t any of the girls around here good enough?”

“Apparently not.”

“You can’t agree to it, D.” I clutch onto his arm, pinning him with panicked eyes. “What if Jane finds out? It will kill her!”

Anguish skates across his face, plain as day. “I hope that doesn’t happen, but I can’t say no. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’ll try to stall it until after the vote and then call it off.”

“What if he won’t let you?”

“Then I’ll go through with it and get an annulment after.”

I hate my brother might have to do that, because he and Jane share this epic love, and it’s not right that they can’t be together. “I hate this for you.”

“I’m not exactly enamored with it myself, A. But, right now, I need to be seen to cooperate. To make amends for my supposed betrayal. He’s still pissed I jumped to defend you on Christmas Day.”

“Well, then, my plan should help you out too.”

“What do you have in mind?” he asks, looping his arm through mine and urging me forward.

We keep step as we walk farther from the house. “I’ve already planted the seeds with Charlie, now you need to do the same with the bastard. You need to tell him it’s in his interests to publicly showcase my wedding. Tell him he needs to throw a lavish party and this time it should be downstairs.”

“He will never go for that, Abby.”

“Yes, he will if you choose your words carefully and manipulate him into it. You need to convince him that I’m on board and I’ve put my errant ways behind me. That his plan worked. Feed his ego. Let him believe he’s broken me. Molded me into submitting. Tell him I’ve always secretly harbored a crush on Charlie and it’s why I didn’t protest too much. He’ll push back, and that’s when you tell him to test me. To bring me into that world and see how I behave. Tell him it’s time I was indoctrinated and that I learned what is involved in being a respected elite wife.”

I stop walking again, bracing my hands against my brother’s forearms. “Blow smoke up his ass. Tell him whatever he needs to hear to believe it, and we kill two birds with one stone. You’ll be back in favor, and we’ll get into the dungeon to do our recon.”

“And to think Father believes women are the weaker sex.” Drew grins.

“I’m glad he underestimates me.” A matching grin spreads across my mouth. “Because it means he won’t see me coming.”





CHAPTER TWELVE


“Are you okay?” I ask Charlie, as we leave the funeral director’s office after a difficult meeting.

Air spurts out of his mouth. “I’m fine.”

Liar.

It’s as obvious as the nose on his face that he’s anything but fine. Charlie is waging an inner war with himself, and I’ve no clue which side will end up victorious.

He takes my hand, linking our fingers. “Could we walk to the restaurant? I need some fresh air.”

I’m not really wearing the right shoes, but I don’t argue. “Sure.”

The night air is brisk, but we’re both wrapped up in warm coats, so I only feel the icy chill upon my face, reddening my nose and stinging my cheeks. Charlie emits little breathy cloud rings into the air as we walk in silence toward the most expensive restaurant in Rydeville.

The ma?tre d’ is effusive when we arrive, fussing over us in a way that’s completely over the top. He takes our coats, and Charlies casts an appraising look over the navy-blue lace mini-dress I’m wearing. I’ve got stockings and garters on underneath and a pair of sky-high silver Gucci shoes on my feet. I took extra care with my appearance tonight, wearing a full face of makeup and styling my hair into soft curves, and from the way Charlie is eyeing me like he wants to ditch dinner and eat me instead, I’d say I’ve accomplished what I set out to.

He grips my hand, grinning appreciatively, and I swallow the bile forcing its way up my throat. The trek across the restaurant is an ordeal as well-meaning acquaintances and nosy busybodies stop us at every step, offering condolences and congratulations. Father placed an announcement in the local and national papers confirming our marriage, so every sniveling asshole is aware it’s official, and they are tripping over themselves to lick Charlie’s ass.