Page 30 of My Dark Divine
“You know, I kept it a secret for intrigue, but I think I can share a few things about him,” she says, her eyes never leaving mine. “He’s charming, rich, and powerful. At just eighteen, he’s already taking over his father’s company because his dad is sick. He’d make a great boyfriend for you.”
My eyes widen at that word, then narrow into thin slits. “Boyfriend?” I repeat in disbelief, as tendrils of fear begin to creep and wrap around me. “But I thought?—”
“Come on, Venetia,” she cuts in, a ripple of tension running through her shoulders that tells me she’s starting to get mad. My heart skips a beat—not from fear of her anger, but from the thought of disappointing her. “Well, of course, friends at first, and then we’ll see, right?”
I nod hesitantly, a dozen new questions forming on the tip of my tongue, but not a single word escapes my lips. I feel confused, the remnants of my excitement fading, replaced by unease.
I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve never kissed or even hugged a boy. It’s only now that I realize how inexperienced I truly am.
“Dad is struggling, sweetheart,” Mom speaks softly, her tone soothing and gentle. “I can’t guarantee he’ll provide for us in the way we need. This boy will be your chance for a perfect life.”
“But I thought—” I trail off, afraid of choosing the wrong words. “I thought I was going to that school I wanted. My teacher said I’m more than capable.” I turn to face her directly instead of just through the mirror, nearly forgetting to mention that I spoke with my teacher yesterday.
I almost overlooked the chance to make her proud.
“He said he’s never seen someone as smart as me—” An uneasy feeling crawls up my spine at her chuckle, yet I refuse to stop. “I’m serious. It’s been a couple of weeks, and I still hold the title of top student. I can?—”
“The Brains of Evertart,” she taunts, each word woven with blatant mockery. “That title… And you really think it’ll do something for your life?”
My lips shake as I grapple with coherent thoughts, and the sharp sting of shame overwhelms me. I cross my arms tightly and lower my gaze. I don’t want to seem ungrateful for what my parents do for me, but I wish they could see that I have a chance for a better life through my own efforts.
“Please, Venetia. If you think you’re so smart, why do you believe this little title will bring you anything?” she snaps. “If that were true, I’d be the richest woman in the city by now. See, I had titles and good grades in school too.”
As my world plunges into the pit of my stomach, I realize that all my efforts have been for nothing. In just a second, I go from feeling like I have everything to realizing I have nothing at all.
“If you can make this boy fall in love with you—” She clicks her tongue, nodding as if to approve her theory. “Then, my Venetia, you’ll have a good life. No grades or titles needed.”
“But it’s not… fair,” I manage to choke out, the final word leaving my lips in a weak sob. I can’t even recall when my tears began to fall. “If I could just get a job?—”
“If, if, and if,” she interrupts, annoyance evident in her tone, and I immediately feel remorse for pushing her buttons. I should shut up now. “Just between us.” With a gentle touch, her hand settles on my shoulder, moving in soothing circles across my skin. “Being a woman in this world is hard. Millions of us try to climb up the ladder, only to end up back on our asses,with broken ribs and shattered dreams. Lucky for you, you don’t have to feel it like I did. You can use a lift.”
I know what she says is true. I really do. But it doesn’t matter that I agree with her—what if I want to try? What if I want to climb the ladder myself, even if it means constantly falling and breaking bones? “I have?—”
“You have nothing.” That sharp tone signifies that I have no chance of winning this argument. She’s made her decision, and I can only accept it. “Let’s face it, Venetia. The Brains of Evertart is a laughingstock. It’s just a face for a brand that lasts only a few months at best. But being the wife to Zayden Ross, a powerful heir to a REIT company? Now that’s a different story. A woman with power who can make a real difference—culturally, politically, in business. That’s the person you should aspire to be. An independent, powerful woman.”
It doesn’t make sense to me. If I’m going to be independent, then why would I need somebody? I don’t even understand anything about REITs, or whatever they’re called.
And I don’t like his name.
“His father doesn’t have much time left,” she adds. “And he doesn’t have any other family. This is your chance, Venetia. He’s going to have control of the entire REIT firm very soon. If you can make him want you by his side, if you can forge connections with businessmen and politicians?—”
Her face breaks into a dreamy smile, and I fall silent, the sting in my eyes intensifying as my surroundings blur, but she’s oblivious to it all. Closing her eyes, she finishes her sentence while I hold back a sob.
“Then, you’ll have everything.”
The momentI catch sight of Zayden’s silhouette, I freeze, a wave of anxiety swelling in my throat. Mom’s hands are firmly planted on my shoulders, squeezing as a reminder of the expression I need to maintain. Her grip feels unnatural, as if she’s presenting me to him like a toy rather than a person. When I try to move, she tightens her hold, and I realize I have no choice but to stay where she wants me to.
His father enters first, and my dad shakes his hand—a routine he follows at every business meeting. That’s what this is: a deal, a trade of a product. I fit the description perfectly—my face is so heavily made up that I can barely feel my natural skin beneath, and my hair is styled so tightly that it doesn’t even move with me. A wide smile is plastered across my face, a practiced, welcoming gesture.
Mom has been teaching me how to conduct myself since childhood, instilling the fundamental rules of etiquette, the proper attire for each occasion, and guiding me on the perfect tone of voice to use—especially around men.
Only now do I realize that these lessons were meant for a moment like this.
“Venetia Torres,” Zayden’s dad says, grabbing my hand without permission and placing a kiss on it. A wave of revulsion rises inside me from the wet, slick sensation, causing a shudder to run through my body as I fight to suppress my disgust. His dark eyes snap to mine, waiting for something to come out of my mouth.
“Venetia, what do you need to say?” Mom asks, her tone cutting, and I can feel the pressure rising. I’m already ruining this, and we haven’t even begun.
“No need for that,” Zayden interjects with a gentle smile, rescuing me from his dad and providing me an opportunity to retract my hand. “This is all so stressful. A moment alone would be nice for us.” His voice drops, exuding authority. I can tell he’s the type of businessman Mom mentioned—the kind who secures the best deals and makes a lot of money.
