So why should I choose him?
“You know I can’t do it, Eli,” I say, surprised by how steady my voice sounds. Inside, I’m falling apart, my heart screaming for him to act, to help me, but I keep my emotions in check. Life has taught me that emotional outbursts never end well. “Hisword is law. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep our business and climb higher.”
He sighs heavily, his head bowed. “Okay,” he whispers, taking a step back. “You’ve made your decision.”
But I didn’t. I don’t get to decide what happens in my life.
He turns and storms out of my room, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that makes me flinch. Hot tears spill from my eyes, tracing paths down my flushed cheeks. As my knees buckle, I sink onto the mattress, my fingers nervously reaching out to pick at the skin around my nails.
My mind is a buzzing chaos, a drill pounding against my skull, painfully drowning out any semblance of composure. I don’t even notice my father entering my room until he clicks his fingers in front of my face, demanding my attention.
“Hey, Dad,” I greet, my voice hoarse with emotion.
I glance down at my hands to see the damage I’ve done. The skin around my nails is no longer white; it’s smeared with shades of crimson, some darker than others. Blood seeps into the creases of my nails, amplifying the strain I feel.
“You’re back at it again.” Disappointed, he clicks his tongue before roughly grabbing my hand, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes the wounds. “This is embarrassing, Venetia. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”
I wish I knew. Sometimes, I don’t even realize I’m hurting myself until I feel blood running down my skin and my vision begins to blacken.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, immediately regretting my response. Dad hates it when I mumble. I should speak loudly and clearly, keeping my chin high. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll stop. I’m just a little stressed.”
He nods toward the door. “What did he tell you?”
Surprise flickers across my face as I turn to him, shocked that he actually cares. “Nothing good. He told me I’m selling myself to West, and that it isn’t right.”
He groans, running a hand over his stubbled chin. “Don’t start this. You know how the world works. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. He never belonged in our world to begin with. I’m glad I won’t have to see him again.”
The sharp retort forms on my tongue but dissolves before I can voice it. Arguing with Dad is pointless. And why bother? It won’t change anything; it’ll only make him angry and lead to hurtful words that linger long after, ruining my mood even more.
“It won’t be like it was with Zayden, hopefully. Mostly, you just need to smile and handle the business.”
“I just—” A sob breaks through my thin façade of composure, followed by a wet chuckle. “I just don’t understand. Why can’t we run the business without the marriage?”
He exhales a long, annoyed breath, clearly frustrated by my resistance. “His father doesn’t trust him, Venetia. You need to understand—West is chaos incarnate. He’s impulsive and unpredictable. And it only gets worse,” he explains. “But you? You’re the only one who can calm him down. You can tame him. You don’t realize how powerful the two of you will be once you create something together.”
He leans in, his expensive perfume invading my senses. A wave of revulsion surges in my throat, forcing me to swallow hard. “Something is happening to him.Helphim, Venetia.”
I shake my head vigorously, feeling a venomous parasite of anger growing inside me. “I have no interest in that. I don’t want to deal with his trauma or whatever problems he has. I’m not his mother, and I’m not someone who will care about him.”
“I don’t think you understand.” He grabs both of my hands, yanking me closer when I try to look away. “Have you forgottenwho you are? Or what happened with Zayden? All themessyou’ve made, and how I was forced to help you clean it up? Huh?”
The repeated mention of my ex-husband intensifies my unease, twisting my face in disgust.
“To others, you’re seen as damaged—broken after everything you’ve been through. After years of being alone, there’s finally a chance for you to have someone. This is the perfect opportunity to show everyone that you can stand tall despite it all—and a perfect chance to gain more profit than we ever could,” he continues, his voice trailing off dreamily. “Lucas has a shot at becoming a powerful politician, Venetia. That means we have the chance to make a political difference. It’s the highest rank—how don’t you understand?”
“I understand perfectly, Father. I’m not stupid,” I retort. “I just don’t want to do it. I don’t want anything from Lucas or West.”
“Then you need tomakeyourself want it. I don’t care how, but you have to convince everyone of your love.” Finally, he releases my hands, allowing me to pull them back to my knees, and tilts his head. “Understood?”
I stay silent.
“Take more Xanax, do some coke, or whatever the fuck you need,” he snaps, his fury seeping through as he stumbles over his words. “Anything to stop wearing that fucking sour face all the time. Snap out of this depression, for Christ’s sake. It’s been long enough.”
He stands and walks out of my room. When the door clicks shut, the tension in my body melts away. I bend forward, releasing a deep exhale as my body trembles from the strain.
Then, I sink to the floor, surrendering to my emotions. For the first time since Zayden died, I unleash a wave of sobs that quickly turn hysterical. My world crumbles, and everythingfades into a blur—my thoughts, my feelings, even my perception of reality. I can’t hear anything except my choked, desperate gasps as I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, hiding my face against the cold laminate.
It’s because I haven’t taken Xanax in a long time. I was beginning to feel okay without it, convinced I didn’t need it anymore. But my dad had other plans. I can’t imagine having a clear head now—not when I’ll be with West the entire time.
