"Do you at leastlikemy brother? He's easy to fuck, from what I've been told, but not so much to like."
I snorted. "I do like him. He's selfless and caring. And he has enough patience to put up with my shit."
Arabella gave me a searching look, halting on the sidewalk. "Shit, you sound serious."
I shrugged. "It's hard to guess what Knox Rook is thinking, but where we're at right now as a couple… it's good. We're good."
Arabella's up-tilted, captivating eyes seemed to look straight through me. "Well, I'll be damned. You're straight smitten, Shortie. I would have never guessed that a fiancée of my brothers might be… well… real." I started to correct her, but she looped her arm through mine and pulled me down the sidewalk. "This is my apology. If you're happy and he's happy, then all the better. I'm on your side, yeah? I'll get you through the hell of wedding planning. You have my word."
And then I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth. I couldn't admit that Rook was not smitten with me, and this marriage was anything but real. We were initially doing it to getawayfrom each other, which the more I thought about it, the less it made sense now. Maybe going along with this plan had been almost logical when we had wanted to get our own places and disentangle ourselves from each other. But if memory served meright—and it did because I replayed it hourly—Knox hadvery effectivelytied me in knots, and we had very much enjoyed it.
Maybe we could just live together for two years, fuck each other silly, and then when the lease was over, we could re-evaluate. Before we'd given in to our attraction to each other, that hadn't seemed possible, but now? Well, Knox had made it clear that he wanted me to stay. Maybe I should accept it.
I led Arabella to my little white sedan that I had decorated with fuzzy dice and a weird dancing fairy in the dash, and she seemed happy to ask me questions about how Knox and I had met. I did my best to avoid the wholefake everythingscenario, giving her vague answers that she didn't seem to question.
The restaurant was close by, so when I pulled into the parking lot, it was only a few minutes later. As we exited the car and into the frigid autumn day, I asked her, "So, do you live nearby?"
"Oh, not even remotely," she replied blithely. "I live in Park City in Utah."
"What?" I gave her a look like she was crazy. "Like… fulltime? What are you doing here?"
Arabella held out her arms, and it was only then I realized she wasn't wearing a coat. "I was summoned for wedding planning. When my mother calls, I come."
I frowned as we walked up the front steps of the brick restaurant. "But… why?"
Arabella gave me a look like it should be obvious. "Why are you marrying my brother?"
Sylvia had something on her. On herown daughter. But then again, what had I expected? She was clearly trying to control her son in the same way. "So, she made you fly out here? Did she at least pay?"
"No," Arabella scoffed. We walked into the busy restaurant decorated with muted reds and mahogany tones. "I'm a vet and farrier for the ranchers around Park City, but I do alright. I canafford to bow and scrape to my jailer now and then." I mouthed the word, "Farrier," trying to pluck it out of my memory, but nothing came to mind. Arabella took pity on me with a sideways grin. "I take care of horses. I'm a veterinarian, but I prefer shoeing them to anything else."
"Oh," I said, remembering then that farriers were the specialists who put horseshoes on the horses. "That must be a cool job." I looked her over with a more critical eye. She was dressed primly with her high-necked blouse and form-fitting, but not obscenely tight slacks, but her watch was one giveaway that she worked either outdoors or with her hands a lot. And then I noticed the callouses on her hands, the chipped, unpainted nails, and the obvious strength in her arms and legs that I thought had been from a robust workout regimen.
"I love it," she admitted. The hostess greeted us, then Arabella said, "Table for three."
"I'll meet you in a second," I said, veering away. "I need to use the restroom."
Arabella nodded and followed the hostess, and I made my way through the beautiful restaurant that smelled like fried fish and fresh vegetables, my mind trying to sort all the information I'd gotten this afternoon into understandable boxes.
Knox's sister was pretty cool, so that was a surprise. But also, she had a horrible relationship with her mother, and I had to wonder what the she-monster had done to her own children to make things turn out this way. And why? What drove some people to control the ones they were meant to protect? My own mother had done something similar, preferring to guilt me into obeying by reminding me that she needed me. She loved me. I was her everything. But also, if I stepped out of line, I was literally killing her.
Sylvia was controlling her children through blackmail and who knew what else. Coercive control was no substitute for a lovingconnection. Children will move heaven and earth for the parents they truly love. It wasn't a difficult concept. And yet here we were—having lunch with a twenty-something young woman who had been strong-armed into spending time with her mother, and the would-be daughter-in-law bribed into cooperating just for the safety of a place to live.
It made me sick.
When I had finished in the bathroom, I made my way around the back of the establishment, curving around the bar area and looking around for where Arabella had been seated. Clinking silverware and hushed conversation filled the space, and I found it difficult to look at faces because the restaurant had been laid out with high-backed booths and cubby-like areas for privacy. As I walked along a row of partially enclosed spaces, Arabella's voice reached my ears behind me.
"… not a game, Mom. She really loves him."
I froze, and despite my moral misgivings, I didn't turn around and make my presence known. It sounded like Arabella was in a closed-off booth behind me, and I'd walked by them.
Sylvia's voice barked out a derisive laugh. "Loves him? Don't be absurd. That little tramp isn't meant to actually marry your brother. Have you lost your mind?" Every instinct warned me to speak up, to stop this conversation before it could find its bloody end, but I couldn't. I had to hear the words for myself.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Arabella asked incredulously.
"I am teaching Knox a lesson. It is nothing more than that," Sylvia spat. "And before you become a champion of justice, as you are wont to do, I will inform you that Knox is well aware of how I feel. He's bluffing. It's a charade on his part to rebel against my wishes. He’s using her like a pawn just as much as I am, but I think he’ll find that in the end, I am always the victor."
"Wait." Arabella's voice had gone hard and uncompromising. "Are you telling me this entire thing is a power move?"
