Twenty
Sterling
Cherry was standing in front of me holding a large book full of fabric samples. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was Hell.
“Which one?” she asked in that breathy voice that was beginning to grate my nerves down to the nub.
“I don’t care,” I said honestly. “Pick whatever you want. My parents are paying for it.” This was true. When my mother found out about my impending marriage, she flew home immediately. My father had grumbled all the way. When they arrived and she saw me, she commented right away on the scent of strawberries. My heart plummeted right into my shoes because the ending of this was inevitable. She was going to realize I was not bonded to Cherry.
Cherry had to know, too, but she was choosing to blissfully ignore what it meant. She never commented once about it, even when my brother and sisters had met her and wrinkled their nose up. A horrified look had stolen over each of their faces, except for Copper because he was prepared for it, and they’d both pulled me to the side to chew me out over it.
When I explained that Maron was a vamp, they’d been mollified, but my sister was still furious at me. She’d been lecturing me daily about the importance of the soul bond, how it was never going to go away, and how if I kept ignoring it, it was going to make me sick.
I knew all of this. I placed a chaste kiss on Cherry’s cheek and left her in my apartment as I drove to my parent’s house.
Once I was inside,I sat down on one of the uncomfortable fabric chairs by the living room windows. Tonight was going to be the real clincher, though. Cherry was scheduled to meet my parents. I wasn’t sure how to prepare them for this meeting. I didn’t want to blindside them, but I also didn’t want them to be angry with me before the dinner.
“You need to tell them,” Moira said, appearing at my side like a shadow.
“They’ll be disappointed.”
Moira rolled her eyes. “We’re all disappointed in you, idiot. That’s what you get for trying to play Portia Kadish.”
“I didn’t try to play her,” I insisted. “I never wanted any of this.”
“Well, congratulations, brother,” she said, her tone mocking. “You’re getting exactly what you asked for.” She touched my arm and walked away from me, leaving me staring out the window lost in my thoughts.
My father’s voice shook me out of my reverie when he called my name. I followed the sound up to my father’s study. When I poked my head in, he motioned for me to come inside.
“Shut the door if you don’t mind,” he said.
I did so, wondering what this was about. My father pulled out a decanter of amber liquid and two glass tumblers. I sighed and sat down in one of the leather seats in front of his desk. This was going to be a heart-to-heart, I knew, and I wasn’t prepared for it.
My father pushed a glass over to me.
“Why don’t you explain what’s going on?” he said after a moment.
“Nothing is going on, Dad.”
His glass sat in front of him untouched. He steepled his fingers together and studied me. “I don’t talk a lot about my business, son. It’s boring and convoluted, but I do know a lot of people in this town and across the world. I also know the Blossom family. Very well.”
My throat tightened.
“I’ve met Cherry several times. Your mother doesn’t know this. She just thinks it’s wonderful you’re settling down. She has no idea what’s about to hit her if you bring this woman in our home. Especially with the other bond wrapped around you so tightly it’s a wonder it hasn’t tried to strangle you yet.”
“So you know.” It wasn’t a question.
“I knew the second your mother told me who the woman was. When I walked in and smelled the other woman on you, I thought about sending you through a wall over your stupidity.” He bared his teeth at me. “My question to you is why?”
I sighed and tipped back the whiskey in one swallow. I set the glass down hard and glared at my father. “Why? Why?!”
My father looked confused. “Yes, son. Why?”
“Because you wanted to marry me off to some Italian woman I didn’t even know! I didn’t even think you believed in arranged marriages. Why you thought I’d be content to wed some woman from a foreign country -”
My father interrupted me. “Son, what in the hell are you talking about?”
“The Bregoli’s!”
