Part I - ONE
ONE The rain streaked across the window, distorting the view of the landscape as our car sped past the front gate of the Bell estate. The drive leading up to the mansion was lined with tall, meticulously manicured hedges, creating a tunnel of green. At the end of the driveway, an impressive fountain stood before the historic stone mansion. I clutched my book tightly, feeling the crinkle of the dust jacket against my dress as I held it in my lap. My sister, Emmeline, noticed the sound and shot me a disapproving look. It was the same disapproval our father had wilted under earlier when he suggested Emmeline wear something more appropriate. Emmeline's black cocktail dress hugged her figure, with a plunging neckline that showed off her impressive cleavage. The flouncy skirt teased above her knees and was longer in the back, accentuating her legs and the tall heels she wore. Her lips were stained a vivid red, which complemented her blue undertones and pale skin. In contrast, I wore a white dress with lace cap sleeves. We shared the same sable hair and crystal blue eyes, but our personalities and styles couldn't be more different. While Emmeline was friendly, quick-witted, and a people-pleaser, I was blunt and unapologetically myself. Tonight, I embraced my role as the quirky loner, while Emmeline exuded confidence and sex appeal. Although we looked similar on the surface, I had recently dyed my hair a deep shade of green, setting us apart. I could pull off bold colors like Emmeline, but our personalities and interests couldn't be more distinct. "Scarlett," Emmeline said, placing her hand on my wrist and eyeing the book in my lap. "If it doesn't fit in your purse, leave it in the car. You can't show up to Gideon's party with a book to read." Gideon Bell, the host of the party, was known for his extravagant gatherings. He had thrown wild parties in high school and still held a reputation for hosting unforgettable events. I stared at Emmeline as the car circled the fountain. When it came to a stop, she hurried out with the help of an umbrella-wielding man. I followed suit, stepping out into the rain. Before I could make my way inside, the man sprinted towards me in panic, eager to protect me from the rain. It was unnecessary, as I didn't care about my appearance or what people thought of me. I was here for Emmeline's sake, and I wouldn't do anything to ruin her night. Inside the grand estate, an usher announced my arrival as "Miss Scarlett Butler," which surprised me. I felt like I had stepped into a different era, expecting a chaperone to appear and pair me up for a dance. But no one came, and I found myself in a foyer filled with unfamiliar faces. Laughter and conversations echoed from the next room, and I resisted the urge to retreat up the grand staircase. Emmeline was already in the front sitting room, sipping a drink she had grabbed from a passing waiter. I joined her, feeling relieved to have escaped the mingling crowd. We stood together, observing the sea of people who were mostly children of the company's employees. Bell Banking and Holding Company had grown into a massive empire over the years, with Michael Bell at its helm. He was a powerful man, dominating the room whenever he was present. Tonight, however, he was absent, leaving the spotlight on Gideon, who had recently graduated from Harvard Business School. Emmeline's eyes scanned the room, searching for Gideon, but he was nowhere to be found. As her frustration grew, she turned to me, her lips close to my ear. "Where the fuck is he? I'm dying here." I offered to look for him, secretly hoping she would decline. Gideon had always made me feel uncomfortable with his intense gaze and dominating presence. But Emmeline sighed and shook her head, relieving me of the task. I stayed by Emmeline's side, pretending to be amused by the conversations around us. I listened to her effortlessly engage with familiar faces from school and our father's workplace. Our father was on the verge of making the board of directors at HBHC, and a significant portion of our town worked for the company. Eventually, Emmeline gave me a slight nod, signaling my release. She handed me her red lipstick, which she had been pestering me to wear all night, and I groaned playfully, knowing I had lost the battle. After applying the lipstick, I slipped away through the kitchen, searching for a quiet room where I could read until Emmeline signaled it was time to go. I stumbled upon a dark room, only to find a couple engaged in an intimate act. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as desire and curiosity stirred within me. I yearned to experience pleasure from someone other than myself, but I knew tonight was not the night to explore that curiosity. Continuing down the corridor, I discovered a library or home office. The room emanated a cozy warmth, with a writing desk across from a marble fireplace. Drawn to the room, I settled into a brown armchair by the window and began reading my book on mythology. As time passed, the sun set, casting a dark shadow over the room. Lost in the pages, I failed to notice someone entering until I felt the weight of their gaze upon me. I looked up to find a pair of hungry eyes fixed upon me.
TWO
My breath caught in my throat, a strangled sound escaping. Gideon Bell's thick, wavy brown hair was swept back over his high-arched eyebrows and mesmerizing eyes. Tall and trim, with broad shoulders, he stood with his hands hooked in his black suit pants pockets, his thumbs peeking out. His posture seemed casual, but it didn't quite capture the essence of who he was. Maybe oppressive, or invasive, or... Attractive. I narrowed my eyes. No, he was only attractive if I found arrogant jerks appealing, and I had long ago decided I didn't. Besides, he belonged to Emmeline. Over the years, he had only paid attention to me when he wanted to be mean. It was entirely possible that he didn't even remember my name. "Scarlett Butler," he said, his tone dripping with sweet liquor and a sharp, bitter aftertaste. The jerk remembered me. I lowered the book in my lap. "My sister was looking for you." The corner of his mouth tugged upward, not exactly a smile, but an amused expression. "I bet she was." I blinked slowly, conveying my disinterest. Many women fell all over themselves for him, but I wasn't one of them. He took a step further into the room. The tie around his neck matched the green of his father's money, its knot slightly askew. Had he recently loosened it, or was he not fully dressed yet? Perhaps he had been the man in the other room, making a woman moan. His suit was the same shade of black, but his hair was perfectly styled. "Did you find Emmeline?" I asked. His demeanor shifted. Something flickered in his eyes, but it disappeared too quickly for me to identify the emotion. "Yeah." There was a finality in his single word. This was a subject he didn't want to discuss. Instead, he trapped me with the intensity of his gaze. This was what stood out most about him - his ability to stare intensely. He never broke eye contact or flinched. It felt as though he could see through you, uncovering all your secrets, all the things you tried to hide or were ashamed of. I always had to look away first, running before he discovered just how vulnerable I felt around him. He would use it to his advantage and exploit it somehow. He was far too comfortable holding my gaze, delving into the depths of me. Like me, he typically spoke whatever was on his mind. Honesty was a great trait, until it wasn't. Too much of it cut deep. As acute as his stare was, I tried not to flinch. "Congrats on your MBA," I said flatly. He waved off my insincere pleasantry like an annoying fly. "It must be quite a book to have you hiding up here." "I don't enjoy parties." The words slipped out before I could reconsider, but Gideon didn't seem offended. "Yeah, me neither." What was he talking about? "Do you know how many times my sister snuck home after curfew from one of your parties? If you don't like them, why did you throw so many?" He pondered my question. "The bigger the party, the more freedom I had." He grinned. "Half the time, I wasn't even here." He revealed it like a secret, and an unwanted thrill shot through me. If this wasn't widely known, why would he share it? Everything in Cape Hill revolved around being elite and exclusive. Money was easy to come by, but power was harder, and knowledge was its own form of currency. "What are you reading?" His question was simple, but demanding. His father was the king of Cape Hill, which made Gideon a prince, and I was merely a subject in his castle. So, I reluctantly held up the book for him to see. His eyes sharpened on the gold and white artwork on the cover. He sounded skeptical. "Mythology?" I nodded, then dropped my gaze to the pages, pretending to be engrossed. I couldn't read with him standing over me, but I could pretend. I could pretend I didn't catch a whiff of his cologne or wonder if he had just finished sleeping with the girl down the hall and was now searching for his next conquest. "Is that for a summer class or something?" he asked. "No." As I tried to focus on the page, his confusion proved to be distracting. "Why are you reading it?" "Because I want to?" My tone came out sharper than intended, and a tense silence hung in the air. I glanced up to find Gideon's eyebrow arched halfway up his forehead. He didn't appreciate my sass. Or... did he? Something thickened in his eyes, a heat that made my heart race. "And this is more interesting than my party?" He placed his palm over his heart, feigning offense. "I'm deeply offended." "I'm sure," I said dryly, then refocused on the printed page. I scanned the words without absorbing them. It didn't matter. Seconds later, the book was yanked from my grasp. I scrambled up from the chair, chasing after it. "Hey!" Gideon held the book just out of my reach, a mischievous grin on his face. "Oh, come on, are you five years old?" I exclaimed. "Give it back." Instead, he clamped one of his large hands onto my shoulder, keeping me at arm's length as he skimmed through the passage I had been reading. My heart skipped a beat as his fingers tensed against my skin, the warmth of his touch seeping through the lace cap sleeves. I didn't like the way his touch sent a jolt through my body. He had probably touched countless women who had melted under his touch, but I wasn't going to add my name to that list. "Is that why your hair looks like that?" he asked, holding the book high and far away from me. It was easy for him to keep me in place, no matter how I struggled. "I understand now. Liliana was always my favorite too." I choked on a breath, freezing in place. "What?" "I assume you're a fan. With that green hair and those red lips, you sort of look like her." My heart pounded in my chest, anger simmering in my veins. Had he just called me ugly? "Actually," I snapped, "in most versions of the story, Liliana was beautiful." "I know that," he said, looking at me strangely. "Don't you... think you're beautiful?" Wait, what? He didn't think I was ugly, but beautiful? The ground beneath my feet shifted, and I struggled to find my balance. I could handle Gideon treating me in various ways - indifferent, annoying, even cruel - but he had never been nice before. It was unsettling. He sounded sincere, but I refused to believe it. He must have had some ulterior motive. I needed to regroup. "What I meant," I said, "is that in the original versions, she was gorgeous. But once she became a symbol for feminist rage, men retold the story and made her ugly. I assumed that was the version you knew." His hand slipped from my shoulder, leaving me feeling cold without his touch. His eyebrows furrowed. "Feminist rage?" I knew this conversation was absurd, but my mouth had a mind of its own. "Yes. She was raped by Poseidon, and after that, she could turn any man who looked at her into stone." I reached for the book. "Not women, mind you. She only used her power on men." I tugged at the book gently, but Gideon wouldn't release it. "Interesting," he said, tilting his head to the side. His icy eyes sharpened. "So, you are Liliana. I suppose you turned me to stone just now." My mind went blank. "What?" "Do you have any idea how long I've been standing here, watching you?" And with that, he let go of the book. The sudden lack of resistance left me stumbling backward. This version of Gideon was dangerous. He had played the part convincingly enough for me to believe him. But only for a moment. The idea of my beauty turning this man, who could have anyone he wanted, into stone fluttered in my stomach. Then it soured, crashing down to my toes. He wasn't really a man; he was an entitled brat, and it was all just a game. I knew better. His favorite toys growing up were the ones that lived and breathed, the ones with emotions he could manipulate. I wouldn't be his plaything tonight. "Did you forget which Butler sister you're talking to?" I tightened my grip on the edges of my book. "Save your attempts at charm for Emmeline." It seemed as though I had unexpectedly taken the wind out of his sails. "I'm not trying to charm you. And, Jesus, what happened to you? I don't remember you being so prickly." "Really? I'm surprised you remember anything at all about a nobody like me." The half-smile froze on his lips, and his shoulders stiffened. His reaction was as close to embarrassment as he got. "You remember saying that, I guess," I said. Back when I was a sophomore in high school, I had begged Emmeline to let me tag along to some dive bar on the outskirts of town. It had been a school night, midweek. The bar agreed not to serve alcohol until after ten, allowing the band of Cape Hill Prep kids, who were terrible musicians, to perform for an underage crowd. Emmeline had been dating the drummer - who had zero rhythm - and we stood in the crowd sipping sodas as her friends stumbled through their pathetic set of five songs. I still remembered standing on the sticky floor of that dark place, feeling like I was part of something. The loud guitars and muddled music vibrated in my chest as the band covered songs and butchered them. Later that night, we ended up at an all-night diner. Gideon hadn't seen us come in. He had been sitting at a table, drinking coffee with his back turned to us. We arrived just in time for him to recap his night. He had proclaimed that the evening was cool... until he "saw a nobody like Scarlett Butler was there." According to him, my presence had ruined the whole experience. Sophia Alby, sitting across from him, looked at me with surprise. He noticed her gaze and turned slightly, giving me a view of his profile. I saw him, and he saw me. He had to know that his comment had affected me, judging by my shocked expression. But he didn't care how his words landed or stripped me down. He just shrugged, turned back around, and continued his conversation. I was worthless. He was the prince of Cape Hill, and he had declared me a nobody. And so it became law. His offhand comment had determined my fate at Cape Hill Prep and the social circles I would never be allowed into. He had labeled me a pariah. It wasn't like I couldn't survive, but he had made the last five years much harder. Lonelier, too. I despised how he had that kind of power over me. If there was a specific moment in my life when I decided I didn't care what others thought, it would be that moment. It gave me some satisfaction to know that if things went well between Gideon and Emmeline, as his family wanted, this nobody would become his sister-in-law. Gideon's blue eyes clouded over, but the tension in my body grew stronger as the memory played in my mind. I wouldn't show any emotion. I wouldn't let him know that his offhand comment had affected me or shaped me in any way. "That was a long time ago," his voice sounded hollow. "Hmm." Funny, the sting still felt fresh, sharp as ever. When his gaze slid down my body, his voice turned smooth, like buttery leather. "I like this dress," he said, trailing his fingers up my back. "But would Liliana wear white? She wasn't a virgin, after all." There was so much sex laced in his voice that I feared I might combust. His cheekbones were sculpted, his mouth twisted into a devastating smirk. Gideon was the epitome of a playboy, and he looked every bit the part. "Again, save it for Emmeline," I managed, trying to sound annoyed but failing, my voice coming out breathy, almost begging. He took my reaction as a small victory, a flash of satisfaction in his eyes. "But I'm not interested in your sister." The meaning behind his words was crystal clear when he drew in a deep breath, his broad chest expanding and filling the space between us. Suddenly, the library felt cramped and suffocating. The shelves closed in, the curtains tightened, and there was no escape. An insidious voice whispered inside me, telling me that I didn't want to escape anyway. A battle raged within me, my body against my mind. Physically, I wanted him. I craved attention from boys, and on the surface, none seemed more appealing than Gideon Bell. But he was also the reason why I had such a difficult time finding someone to date in my sheltered life. The pool of eligible men in Cape Hill was small, and I was awkward. Gideon's comment had been the final blow. He was toying with me. There couldn't be any other explanation. What was his endgame? Did he want me flustered and falling all over him like the other girls did? Was he going to pretend to seduce me and then reject me, humiliating me at the last moment? Would he run to my sister and tell her how pathetic I was? "Oh, yeah?" I blinked innocently. "What exactly are you interested in?" He matched my innocent tone, threading his tie through his fingers and sliding them down its length. "Avoiding people and staying here in the library with you." It was a rare misstep for him, an overcompensation. I was excited to have the power to call him out on it. I swallowed, preparing myself, shifting the book into my left hand and setting my right palm on the center of his tie, my fingertips resting on his dress shirt. The silk was cool and soft, contrasting against the warmth seeping through the fabric covering his hard chest. I wasn't experienced in seduction, but I threw everything I had at it. "What should we do?" His eyes widened. Oh, my God. There was nothing more thrilling than seeing the prince caught off guard. It only lasted a moment before he regained his composure, his large hand coming down on mine, trapping my fingers and pressing my palm against his chest. "I have some ideas," he said. With my hand pressed to him, Gideon's heartbeat thumped slowly and steadily. If the roles were reversed, he would feel my heart pounding in my chest. His thumb moved, brushing slowly over the back of my hand, and tension coiled within me. I thought he would back down, but instead, he returned the challenge, raising the stakes. How far was he willing to take this? And... how far was I willing to let it go? Every stroke of his thumb made me want to push further. Every breath we took, our eyes locked, gave me the courage to keep playing the game. "Was the girl down the hall not enough for you?" I asked. "Girl down the..." Confusion flickered across his face, replaced by a slow smile. "Vance was with some blonde when I walked by the guest bedroom. You thought that was me?" When I didn't respond, his voice dipped lower. "My brother probably left the door open because he wanted an audience. Did you watch them?" "Maybe," I admitted, dropping my book onto the ottoman with a thud. I graduated from pressing my hand against him to pressing my whole body against him. The crinoline beneath the skirt of my dress rustled softly between our thighs. Pleasure washed through his expression, simmering into something else. Something darker and hotter. His hand disappeared momentarily, only to slip behind me and hold me firmly against him. My white dress was modest in the front but backless, and a shiver ran down my spine as his fingertips settled on my bare skin. Tilting my chin up, I tried to exude strength as his unwavering gaze threatened to unravel me completely. "I like this dress," he said, trailing his fingers up my back, tracing each ridge of my vertebrae as if counting stacks of money. "But would Liliana wear white? After all, she wasn't a virgin." Sex oozed from his voice, and I was torn between wanting to push him away and wanting to surrender. His hand was gone, only to be replaced by his lips, crashing onto mine with a force that shattered everything I believed in.
THREE
Gideon's kiss wasn't a luxurious sip of expensive champagne, but rather a shot of cheap whiskey that had to be downed quickly. It overwhelmed my senses, burning its way down my throat and leaving me breathless. I couldn't help but wonder if Gideon was the prince of fire himself, as his kiss was both intense and consuming. I couldn't deny the power of our connection. It felt too real, too desperate to be a mere pretense. As his lips moved against mine, demanding more, I couldn't help but respond. His hand on my back pushed me closer to him, while his other hand tangled in my hair, pulling me further into the moment. Kissing him felt forbidden, like pouring gasoline on the flame between us. Yet, I couldn't resist. The consequences of our actions weighed heavily on my mind, especially knowing how Michael, Gideon's father, dealt with anyone who stood in his way. But the blame for this dangerous and potentially destructive kiss would fall solely on me, regardless of who initiated it. The conflicting emotions within me were overwhelming. I was angry at Gideon for putting me in this position, yet I couldn't deny the desire that coursed through my veins. I tugged harder on his hair, a physical manifestation of the discomfort he had caused. He grunted softly, his satisfaction evident, before abruptly tearing his lips away from mine and sinking his teeth into my flesh. Surprised gasps escaped my lips as his sharp teeth gave way to the velvety touch of his tongue. I shivered uncontrollably as he whispered, "I see you. And now I've tasted you." The weight of his words and the implications they held sent a chill down my spine. My sister's face flashed through my mind, a reminder of the secrecy that needed to surround our illicit connection. "No one can know," I pleaded. But Gideon, undeterred, continued to press his lips against my neck. We shuffled forward, my back pressed against a bookshelf, as he explored my vulnerable spots. My mind raced with a myriad of thoughts and desires. I longed to know if my sister truly had feelings for Gideon, the man who now pushed against me with an undeniable erection. I wished for the door to have a lock, shielding us from prying eyes. And above all, I wanted to know when he would make good on his threat to explore my body further. I didn't have romantic feelings for Gideon, at least not in the way most girls would. I saw him as an opportunity to satisfy my curiosity about sex, to explore my own desires. His kisses ignited a pleasure that spread throughout my body, intensifying with each touch. The warmth between my legs grew unbearable as he ground himself against me, leaving me unsure which was more shocking—the sensation of his hardness or the fact that he found kissing me arousing. His words dripped with lust as he whispered, "I want to fuck you under this white dress." A primal desire washed over me, yet I couldn't ignore the implications of such actions. Michael's power and influence loomed over us, ready to destroy anyone who stood in his way. But in that moment, I didn't care. I craved his touch, his dominance. As he slid his hand up my skirt, I gripped the bookshelf, feeling the weight of the situation. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but it would be even worse if he stopped. My breathing quickened as his fingers brushed against my panties, his touch rough and greedy. I wanted to resist, to assert myself, but I couldn't deny the pleasure that coursed through my veins. He teased me mercilessly, pushing me closer to the edge. His phone chimed, a reminder of the ticking clock and the danger that lurked outside. Yet, he remained focused on me, determined to keep me on the precipice of desire. Finally, he stroked me through my panties, his touch rougher and more intense than I could achieve on my own. I moaned softly, unable to control the pleasure that coursed through my body. His laughter filled the room as he tightened his grip around my neck, reminding me of my place. I was under his control, and he reveled in it. His fingers delved deeper, and I felt myself unraveling beneath his touch. His voice was commanding as he declared, "This is mine now." Confusion swirled within me, but I was powerless to resist. I agreed, giving myself over to him willingly. He rewarded me with a final burst of pleasure before abruptly stepping back, leaving me breathless and wanting more. Desperately, I called out his name, hoping to stop him from leaving. But he ignored me, disappearing into the hallway without so much as a backward glance.
FOUR
One Year Later One Year Later On my twenty-first birthday, I still hadn't lost my virginity. I constantly reassured myself that it wasn't because of loyalty to Gideon. I hadn't seen him since his graduation party a year ago and did my best to avoid thinking about him altogether these days. It had been difficult at first. I had spent an unhealthy amount of time obsessing over our night in the library and wondering what had gone wrong. Had I done something to ruin it? Or had the whole thing just been a mind game? Today was going to be tough without thinking about him. He, along with his father, was due to arrive at the house within the hour. Sitting on the tiled floor of Emmeline's bathroom, I stared at my purple toenail polish. She was beside me, bent over the toilet, spitting out the lingering stomach acid. I tore off a strip of toilet paper and handed it to her as she leaned back. I stayed quiet as she wiped the corners of her mouth. Her bloodshot eyes showed the toll of vomiting multiple times today, bursting blood vessels in the process. "Feeling any better?" I asked. "A little. God, I hope it's finally out of my system." Her skin looked pale and sickly. "Shit," she groaned, collapsing against the wall and covering her forehead with her hand. "What am I going to do?" "People get sick," I offered. "Everyone understands that." Her red-rimmed eyes widened, staring at me as if I had lost my mind. "Michael won't." She was right, so I didn't argue. Michael Bell, being not entirely human, couldn't relate to getting sick. Our father had tried to cancel the luncheon, but his boss refused. There were important matters that needed to be discussed. Besides, he assured my father that there was "plenty of time for Emmeline to get herself together" before their arrival. Michael probably believed it was just a hangover and not food poisoning, as my father had explained. "Maybe a shower will help," I suggested, glancing at the screen of my phone. The meeting was unavoidable, and Emmeline needed to pull herself together if she wanted to look presentable. "Okay," she replied weakly. I helped her up from the floor and walked over to the shower, turning on the water. After she finished her shower, there was a knock on the bathroom door. Without waiting for a response, our mother floated in. Her dark chocolate-colored hair showed no signs of gray, thanks to her expensive efforts. She wore a red and navy striped dress with a pleated skirt, looking ready to give Martha Stewart a run for her money. She watched Emmeline weakly climb out of the shower, concern streaking across her face. "Did anyone else get sick?" I shook my head. "Em is the only one who ordered the salmon." My mother scowled, creating a crease in her forehead. "Don't call her that today, alright?" My sister's nickname had never been a problem before. Any other time, I would have been annoyed at the idea of changing my behavior to please someone else, but today I would comply. "Okay." The Bell family held power over everything, and my parents would have less stress when the President of the United States visited. They were supposed to be friends, but every moment with the Bells was rigid and formal. A visit with Michael was like a never-ending job interview. Every answer and action was evaluated and cataloged in his brain, and one wrong move could be disastrous. "I should call the restaurant and let them know," my mother said. "Sometimes they don't report it, and-" She froze as she stared at her daughter's bloodshot eyes. The thoughts running through her mind were evident. First, concern over Emmeline's illness, but a close second was worry over Michael's reaction. "I think I have some Visine," I whispered. My mother's attention shifted to me, and as she blinked, it was as if she was seeing me for the first time. Her critical gaze took in my deep emerald hair, scanned downward over my tank top and shorts, and landed on my flip-flops. "Scarlett, please. Get dressed. I'm getting nervous just looking at you." Emmeline lurched towards the toilet again. There wasn't much left to throw up, and my mother and I stood helplessly by as she dry-heaved. If there was a way I could have taken her sickness upon myself, I would have done it willingly. It was so difficult to watch my sister suffer. And she had mentioned that the salmon wasn't even that good. We had gone out last night with her friends to celebrate her graduation from Etonsons. It had been a small gathering. The garden party our parents were planning would happen over Memorial Day weekend when the weather was better. My mother locked eyes with me as Emmeline coughed and moaned. "Wear something nice. You might have to represent both my daughters today." After much arguing, I reluctantly wore the pomegranate dress Emmeline had intended to wear. With my green hair, I looked like modern Christmas colors in May. The V-neck party dress wasn't my usual style, but it fit and satisfied my frazzled mother. After getting dressed and applying the makeup my sister insisted on, I lingered upstairs as long as possible before the arrival of the Bell men. I waited until my father had to call for me to join them. It had been a small miracle that I had managed to avoid Gideon since returning from college, but I couldn't avoid him any longer. Teetering down the staircase in Emmeline's heels, which were half a size too big, I clutched tightly to the banister. Polite conversation ceased at my entrance, and for a moment, everyone froze like statues. My father was the first to break form, giving a surprised smile, happy to see me. There was safety in numbers around the Bells, after all. The patriarch of the visiting family took longer to recover and regain his human-like composure. At fifty-two, Michael's hair showed no signs of gray. It was perfectly swept to one side, not a strand out of place. I wondered if he simply willed it into position every morning. His nose was long, his cheekbones high, and he was in impeccable shape. And just like his sons, Michael was undeniably attractive. But there was something unsettling in his eyes. It was as if he had seen the entire world, every crevice, and found it all deeply disappointing. His top lip curled as his gaze appraised me from head to toe. Oh, he despised my unnatural hair color, so much so that he wouldn't even acknowledge my presence. I didn't deserve a sliver of his attention. On the other hand, Gideon was frozen, his focus solely on me. His wide eyes didn't blink for an unusually long moment, and with the surprised expression fixed on his face, he looked... strange. Like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Otherwise, he appeared the same as last time. Still irritatingly sexy, wearing a cobalt blue suit without a tie, and exuding confidence. Had he not expected to see me? It made sense, I supposed. His younger brother Vance hadn't come, and when Michael requested the lunch, he had only asked for Emmeline's attendance. The anxiety of it all hadn't helped my sister's nausea. Michael cleared his throat, snapping his son out of his stupor, and then turned his scrutinizing gaze to my father. "Where is your other daughter?" My father stiffened. "She's still not feeling well." Michael was only a few inches taller than my father, but he seemed to loom over everyone, his displeasure permeating the room. "Then she can join us after lunch." My mother's shoulders slumped, but she nodded and gestured towards the dining room, ushering us towards the table that our housekeeper Delphine had set with our finest china. Since my father sat at the head of the table, I ended up sitting across from Gideon. Throughout the meal, I focused on the gold filigree on my plate, avoiding his intense stare that seemed to bore into me. The conversation was filled with awkward pleasantries, as usual. Michael's only hobby was being an asshole, making it difficult to hold a conversation with him. He had changed so much over the years. I barely remembered how he used to be, or if he had ever genuinely smiled. As soon as Delphine cleared the plates from the main course and disappeared into the kitchen, my father's boss interlaced his fingers and placed them on the table. The atmosphere in the room shifted. It was time to discuss business. "Gideon will be joining the board of directors," Michael announced. Holy shit. He dropped that statement on the table, but it landed with the weight of an anvil, threatening to drag us all down. It was no secret that my father desired the coveted seat on the board. While it was natural for Gideon, being a Bell, to eventually be offered a position, he had only been working at the company for a year. And he was only twenty-five. Red splotches crawled up my father's neck, peeking out over the collar of his dress shirt. He had been working for Bell Banking and Holding since before Gideon was born. Charles Butler was supposed to be next in line. My gaze snapped to Gideon, but he remained silent, his expression devoid of any emotion. He had become a statue once again. "How wonderful," my mother choked out. "Yes," my father lied. Michael gave a subtle nod. "As you know, this is a great honor." His tone was dismissive. "We have a tradition that goes along with it." A thousand tiny spiders crawled along my back. The last time someone joined the board, I was eight years old. No one explained the process to me, not that anyone could. The tradition had been passed down through several generations within the company, known only by the board members. There was an initiation or ceremony, some kind of secret rite of passage, followed by an elaborate celebration. Like the private and exclusive societies at Ivy League schools, I found it all pretentious. Men making a big deal and pretending to be more important than they were. "Now that Emmeline has finished school," Michael continued, "it makes sense for her to join Gideon. Once he takes his seat, we will announce their engagement during the celebration." My jaw dropped, but thankfully it didn't audibly thump onto the table. In the past year, Emmeline and Gideon had gone on exactly one date, which she had described as horrible. They had little in common and zero chemistry, according to her. I found that surprising. He was definitely an asshole... but no chemistry? I hadn't experienced that issue with him. His kiss had lingered in my mind for weeks. Part of me was secretly thrilled that it hadn't worked out between them. Wait for me, his voice echoed in my mind. Under the table, I clenched my knees together. It was difficult to handle the memory while he sat right in front of me. But he didn't protest the suggestion of marrying my sister. He didn't say a word about his father's announcement. Irrational jealousy stabbed at me. And even if we put aside the lack of chemistry, Emmeline wasn't even in the fucking room. It shouldn't have been so shocking. This marriage proposal wasn't about love; it was a business merger. Michael didn't think my sister needed to be included in the negotiations, apparently. My family's confusion was summed up in a single word from my mother. "What?" Michael looked irritated that he had to explain it. "Gideon would like to ask for Emmeline's hand in marriage." An incredulous laugh escaped my lips. Was he really letting his daddy do this? "Maybe we should bring Emmeline in here," I said sarcastically. "She might have some thoughts on the matter." When Michael's icy gaze turned towards me, I shivered. I wanted to shrink into myself until there was nothing left. "Then perhaps you should fetch her," he declared. I hurriedly left the table, grateful to be away. Stepping out of my heels and leaving them at the base of the stairs, I raced up to Emmeline's room without bothering to knock. I found her sitting on the edge of her unmade bed, arms folded protectively across her stomach. She looked like she was trying to hold herself together. "Em," I said urgently. "You need to come downstairs now." I entered her walk-in closet and rummaged through the dresses hanging there. There was a peach floral dress that seemed a bit too summery, but it would have to do. I snatched it off the hanger and stormed back into her room, holding it out to her. "Michael just asked if Gideon could have your hand in marriage." I had expected laughter, disbelief, shock. Instead, she cast her glassy, red-rimmed eyes down at her damask bedspread. Somehow, she already knew this was coming. A void opened up inside me. My sister was my best friend, and we told each other everything. No, you don't. I hadn't told her about my night in the library with Gideon. I had a good reason for not telling her before they attempted a relationship, and after it became clear that nothing would happen, it seemed pointless to bring it up. I pushed aside my questions and the sting of betrayal. We could deal with it later. Right now, we needed to handle the situation. I loved my father with all my heart, but he wasn't as strong as he needed to be. He was susceptible, folding too easily, especially when it came to things he desired, like another cigar or whiskey glass. What if Michael offered a seat on the board in exchange for Emmeline? It was something the shrewd businessman would do, and it was possible our father would be foolish enough to accept. Not that my sister would ever go along with it, but the mere suggestion of such a negotiation could be disastrous. "Get dressed," I ordered. She complied, moving as if she were trying to delay the hangman's noose. Her hair was washed but left unstyled, and there wasn't a trace of makeup on her face when I led her downstairs. It was still better than her not being there at all. When we entered, Michael rose from his seat. Was it a gesture of courtesy or a power move? Gideon stood as well, but it seemed like an afterthought, hesitating before doing so. Her voice sounded fragile as she spoke. "Mr. Bell." Her gaze shifted to his son. "Gideon." Michael walked around the table towards her, extending his hand for a greeting. Earlier, he hadn't bothered with a handshake when meeting someone like me, making it clear how much he preferred my sister. "It's nice to see you again, Emmeline." There was no warmth in his tone, not that I expected any. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead, she vomited all over his outstretched hand.
FIVE
The piercing sound of my mother's scream sliced through the air, filling the room with a sense of dread. It was a sound that sent shivers down my spine, worse than the feeble attempt Emmeline made to muffle herself as the disaster unfolded. As the red dye from her sports drink spewed out, it took on a sickly hue, resembling nothing more than garish fake blood staining her fingers. In an instant, my father's chair screeched across the hardwood as he jumped to his feet, snatching a napkin off the table and rushing to aid his boss. Michael recoiled, his hand dripping with crimson bile, holding it as far away from himself as possible. If he could have severed it from his body at that moment, he surely would have. Gideon and I stood in stunned silence while the rest of the room buzzed with frantic activity. Emmeline muttered an apology and vanished from sight. My father guided his boss to the nearest bathroom to clean up, while my mother chased after Delphine to deal with the mess on the floor. Left alone with Gideon, I found myself locked in a gaze across the expansive table that our family rarely used. "Hello, Scarlett. Or is it Liliana now?" His lips curled into a faint smile. "Did you do as I asked?" My breath caught in my chest, the tension tightening around me. How could he ask such a question so casually, after everything that had just happened? Flames ignited in my chest. "It's Liliana." "Liar." His smile was victorious, masking the relief he tried to conceal. His gaze shifted from me to the door where our fathers had disappeared. "Is she pregnant?" The events of the past few seconds swirled in my mind, making it hard to process. "What?" He didn't repeat himself, allowing the question to hang in the air, suffocating the silence. Emmeline couldn't possibly be pregnant. "She's not even dating anyone." Gideon raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, that wasn't a requirement for getting knocked up." I struggled to control my emotions. "She's not." As soon as the words escaped my lips, doubt crept in. Despite this absurd wedding proposal, Emmeline hadn't confided in me about any of this. My mouth went dry. She had even refused to take a drink last night when her friends ordered celebratory tequila shots. She claimed she felt sick from it after finals week, and the smell made her nauseated. My expression must have betrayed my thoughts because Gideon looked smug. "Fuck off, Gideon," I snarled. "If she was pregnant, she would have told me." The kitchen door swung shut, signaling the end of our solitude. The cold draft of Michael Bell returned, plunging the room into an icy chill. "She's pregnant?" His horror mirrored the shock he had displayed when my sister vomited on him. "No, she's not," I replied hastily. Gideon shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels as if he found the entire situation amusing. "Go ask her. I bet you a hundred bucks she is." I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me run away, but his father had a way of making his desires known without uttering a word. The tension in his shoulders, the expectant angle he held himself at, left me with no choice. I trudged back up the stairs, my fists clenched tight. In that moment, I wished someone other than my family had been the one to throw up on Michael. This time, Emmeline wasn't sitting on the bed. I could hear her soft sobs emanating from the bathroom. Bent over the sink, she splashed water on her flushed face. As soon as she caught sight of me in the mirror, she straightened up. "Is it possible to die of shame?" Her tear-filled eyes stared up at the ceiling, desperately trying to hold back the flood. "I want to. I'm so fucking embarrassed and miserable." I had no idea what to say. I wasn't skilled at sugarcoating things, and my sister wasn't one to be fooled. She knew that what she had done was unforgivable in Michael's eyes. When I lingered awkwardly in the doorway, her expression shifted to one of worry. "What now?" "Are you pregnant?" I whispered the question, but her reaction was as if I had shouted it at her. Shock widened her eyes, guilt staining them like red wine on a white tablecloth. Her gaze fell to her feet. "I'm... three weeks late." "Three?" A million questions swirled in my mind, but the most practical one tumbled out first. "Why haven't you taken a test?" She pushed away from the sink and pressed the back of her hand to her lips. "Because," she whispered, "I know what it's going to say, and I don't want it to, okay?" Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto the travertine tile. My heart ached. Not just for her, but selfishly for myself. She had suspected for weeks and hadn't confided in me. How many other secrets was she keeping? "Whose is it?" "I haven't told him yet." "Em." "He's married. Oh, God, I'm a terrible person." She closed her eyes, tears slipping through her lashes. "It's... Dr. Galliat." "Your psychology professor?" She nodded. "What the hell am I going to do?" "Well, you're not marrying Gideon Bell, for starters." I placed my hand on her shoulder and pulled her close, enveloping her in a tight hug. "It's alright," I murmured. "Everything's going to be okay." I held her as she sobbed, not caring if her tears stained my dress. I couldn't help but wonder if this baby could be a blessing in disguise. I couldn't imagine Michael as a father-in-law, and I didn't want our family to be any more involved with the Bells than we already were. It felt like too much. When I returned to the dining room, everything appeared as it had before lunch, except for the lingering scent of disinfectant. Everyone was seated, seemingly calm, but the tension hung thick in the air like an oppressive fog. "How is she?" my mother asked. Gideon glanced at me and smirked. "Pregnant. You owe me a hundred dollars." Michael showed no reaction on his face, maintaining his composure even as he slammed his fist on the table with a force that made the silverware dance on the plates. Gideon sobered, a flicker of nervousness crossing his usually confident demeanor. "That is unacceptable." Michael's eyes were like an intense Nor'easter, and I braced myself against the hurricane-force winds threatening to knock me down. My parents were stunned into silence, their shame rendering them unable to speak. My mother, however, regained her strength. Pushing back her chair, she stood tall, her backbone stiffening. "Please excuse me." "Sit down." At Michael's snarl, she froze halfway out of her seat, but then straightened, her resolve hardening. "No. I need to speak with my daughter." "In a minute," he commanded. "You'll hear what I have to say first." His gaze shifted to me, piercing through me like a dagger. "Take your seat. This concerns you now, Scarlett." My knees locked, and my heart rose into my throat as I mechanically obeyed, sinking into my chair while fear consumed me. "I'm not sure if you're aware," Michael began, adjusting his shirt sleeves beneath his suit coat, "that the Butler family has accumulated an insurmountable amount of debt. By the end of the summer, bankruptcy will be inevitable." A short, disbelieving laugh escaped my lips. What was he talking about? I glanced around the opulent dining room, the hand-carved table with enough seating for sixteen, the silk curtains adorning the windows. We had just enjoyed a meal prepared by our private chef and served by our live-in staff. We were swimming in money. And yet... When I looked at my parents, they wore expressions of guilt that bordered on shame. The silence grew suffocating, each breath becoming harder to draw. All our money... gone? Michael spread his hands on the table, his fingertips tapping against the surface. "The only valuable asset you have left is your name and reputation." His words dripped with a threat. He could take those away as easily as he could take the house. With a single word, we would be shunned. "I am going to make an offer," he continued. "Only a fool would refuse it." I forced myself to meet his gaze, to not let him see the panic welling within me. "I... have a counteroffer." His shoulders snapped back, his irritation transforming into anger. "My offer was more than generous." Ignoring his outburst, I pressed on. "If I agree to marry Gideon, we keep the house, my father keeps his job and accepts the financial planner." Michael's anger intensified. "That is the same offer I just proposed." A tremor ran through my legs, hidden beneath the table. Outwardly, I tried to match his merciless demeanor. I said it before my nerve could falter. "And also, ten million dollars."
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