The Reluctant Bride (Arranged Marriage #1)(35)

I need to get her away from him.

“You’ll make sure no one will find out we’re living together?” she asks, her voice small.

“I will do my best,” I say firmly.

I’m getting her out of that house. Even if we have to live in my apartment until we’re married, I don’t care. I can deal with her in such close quarters.

“Okay.” She nods once, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.

And then she does the oddest thing.

Charlotte lunges for me, wrapping me up in a tight hug. Her scent hits my senses, filling my head and I automatically slip my arms around her waist, holding her close. Noting how we’re a perfect fit.

How good she feels.

How delicious she smells.

“Thank you,” she whispers against my chest.

I touch her hair, trying to fight the surge of protectiveness for this woman that fills me, but it’s no use.

Guess I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.





Chapter Twelve




Charlotte


My future husband went through with his threat. First thing Monday morning Mother stops by my room to inform me I’ll be moving out by the end of the day.

The end. Of. The.

Day.

“I can’t pack all of my things in that short amount of time,” I tell her, glancing around my cluttered room, trying to stuff down the panic that rises within me.

“Just pack the necessary items for now and you can get the rest later,” she suggests. “Besides, we’ve already made the arrangements. You and your husband will be moving into the apartment Grant used to keep. The place with the lovely terrace.”

She focuses on the oddest things, I swear to God. Who cares about the terrace? You’d think she’d be upset her only daughter is about to move out earlier than expected with a man.

A man who’ll eventually be my husband, but still.

Doesn’t she care that I’m leaving? Isn’t she worried about me? Or do I not matter to her anymore? Am I only a nuisance?

I decide to put her to the test.

“Great.” I leap to my feet and start pacing the room as I’m wont to do when Mother drops a bomb on me, which is often. “I don’t want to move.”

“You don’t really have a choice,” she murmurs. “He will be your husband in a matter of weeks. He wants you living with him. He called your father first thing this morning and made it happen.”

“He only wants me living with him so he can control me,” I spit out, though I don’t know if that’s true. From what I’ve seen, Perry doesn’t seem the controlling type.

Well.

He was sort of controlling at the engagement party. Very demanding too. But that was out of anger. He wants to protect me, not control me.

At least, that’s what I think.

Hope.

Mother shrugs. Doesn’t offer a reply.

Meaning she believes he wants to control me too—and doesn’t bother trying to stop me from leaving.

Proving my point.

A frustrated growl leaves me as I stomp around my room. I spot Doja under my bed, watching me with her all-seeing golden eyes and I swear I see sympathy on her feline face.

I turn to face my mother. “What about my cat?”

“What about him?”

“Her,” I stress.

Mother shrugs. “You can leave her here. She’ll be fine. Jasper will feed her. Or one of the maids.”

“I don’t want to leave her here. I want to take her with me.” My tone is stubborn and sulky, but I don’t care. Besides, no one would take care of my cat. They’d totally neglect her. She’d probably run away and eventually live on the mean streets of New York City. “Doja’s mine.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Charlotte.” She moves to sit on the edge of my bed, watching me as I pace about. “What you really need to do is learn how to work a man, my dear. Be agreeable. Downright submissive even. Then when they’re content, they won’t feel the need to watch your every move.”

Spoken like a woman with experience. I stop my pacing, curling my arms in front of me. “Is that what you do with my father? Act the submissive pet most of the time and let him feel like he’s the man?”

“I wouldn’t quite put it like that, but something close.” She pats the empty spot beside her. “Come sit with me, darling. You’re giving me a headache.”

I drop my arms at my side and resume my pacing. “You act like none of this is a big deal, when it’s huge. Do you not care that I’m moving out forever? Won’t you miss me?”

That’s what I long to hear. For my mother to hug me and tell me she loves me. That she’ll miss me when I go, and life won’t be the same around here without me.

“Of course I’ll miss you,” she says automatically, sounding like a robot. “But it’s what’s expected. You’re getting married, darling. Aren’t you thrilled?”

I’m scared and nervous and I need her comfort right now, but all she can focus on is how happy I should be.

It’s obvious I’m not happy at all, but she’s either oblivious or she doesn’t want to know what’s really bothering me.

More likely the latter part.