Page 26 of A Ruthless Arrangement
My gaze flicker downwards, and my anger dissipates, the numbness from before returning. She smiles and pats my cheek. “There you go. I knew you could do it.”
How could she seethisas mefighting? Turning lemons into lemonade? This is megiving up, resigning myself to a fate of constant trauma for the rest of my life. She doesn’t see the truthbecause she doesn’t want to. She wants only what’s convenient for her.
She’s not my family, and I don’t think she ever has been. Neither her nor my grandfather have been.
She helps me get ready, chatting at me like nothing’s wrong. I don’t answer her, but it’s like she doesn’t even notice. I’m nothing more than a doll to be shuttled around and fill the part of granddaughter, of future wife, of plaything. Who I am as a person doesn’t matter. They just need a body to play the part.
I wither away a little more.
My grandmother looks at the tag on my dress. “Hm. I don’t recognize the brand on this tag. Are you sure they gave you something actually from the store, Amy? How much did you pay for it?”
Yeah, you don’t recognize it because it’s from Walmart.“I don’t know. It feels like a long time ago.”Because it was.
“Hmph. Well, it’ll have to do for tonight. It doesn’t look bad exactly…” She sighs and continues to work on styling my hair. “I just wish it looked better.”
I wonder if she’s still talking about the dress.
She cakes makeup on me like she’s trying to hide me underneath it, and it doesn’t feel like me. None of it does. But that’s not the point. I’m just playing a part, just a puppet in their games. And soon, I’m whisked off to the hotel lobby.
My grandfather and the Irish Demon are already there. My grandfather nods, his back straight, as if he’s trying to make himself taller. But it’s a joke, because he’s lacking quite a few noticeable inches on the Irishman. Who, in comparison, looks calm and refined, his hands in his suit pockets, a relaxed expression on his face.
The Irish Demon notices our arrival first. His gaze glides over in our direction and focuses on me. His posture tenses, his brows furrowing, a muscle in his strong jaw twitching.
How is he able to tell something’s wrong already? I’ve pasted on a tiny smile, the best thing I can manage. But it still shouldn’t be obvious.
Unless the dress isthatwrinkled. It’s not like it’s ugly or anything, but just a tad plain. I don’t know, what do rich people wear? Is the cotton so obviously cheap or something? Considering how the sales attendants in the boutique clocked me as poor from the moment I stepped in their store, maybe that really is the case.
My grandfather’s gaze looks me up and down, as if appraising me. But the Irish Demon’s eyes don’t leave my face. My grandfather slides his arm around my grandmother’s waist. “Ah, there you are, ladies. I was wondering if I was going to have to come up there and retrieve you. Heh. Women.”
The Irish Demon’s eyes narrow, those steel blue eyes staring into mine. “Yes. Women.”
13
Amy
Ikeep my gaze on the shiny marble floor as my heels click across it. My grandfather chatters at the Irish Demon as we walk out of the hotel towards the car that’s been called for us. The Irish Demon walks next to me, his presence a heavy reminder of my fate.
I’m ever aware of his form next to me as we get into the car. It’s a limo, and my grandparents slide into the side seats. I slip in, my eyes darting around, trying to figure out where to sit. I hesitate, moving to sit across from my grandparents on the other side seat. But the Irish Demon enters the car behind me, gently tugging on my skirt. When I look back at him, he slides a hand over my hip and pulls me towards him. There’s a flash of memory of the dream I had in my head, my entire body tingling from his touch. Apparently my body has decided to focus onthatinstead of the trauma I’ve endured.
My eyes widen, but I sit next to him reluctantly. He pats my back gently and then removes his hand to rest on his own thigh. My eyes dart around the limo nervously. My grandparents both seem to notice the interaction, but don’t say anything.
Instead, there’s a moment of silence before my grandfather begins to fill it with chatter about business again, but betweenmy numbness and the fact he’s using a lot of names and lingo that I don’t know, I don’t really understand it. It’s like he can’t stand silence, which I’ve never seen from him before. He usually only talks to me when he has to, but evidently it’s a different beast dealing with a…coworker.I don’t blame him. The Irish Demon is intimidating. And he’s not helping my grandfather or relieving him of his misery. He lets him ramble on and on like a fool.
I look at the Irish Demon out of the corner of my eye, only to find him already looking at me. His critical gaze is flickering between me and my grandparents, as if assessing the situation.
When the car comes to a halt, my grandfather looks out the window. “Oh. The Gilded Orchid? That’s…quite the choice, Alasdair. One of the finest, and most expensive, restaurants in the city.” My grandfather’s voice sounds slightly strained.
A deep chuckle comes from the man next to me, his long legs stretched out, his finely pressed suit pants and shiny shoes a statement, even from what I see out of the corner of my eye. It’s not like I really looked at him as I approached them in the hotel, as I wanted to look anywherebutat the two men I’m dreading to dining with tonight. “Is that a problem, Astero?”
I forgot how delicious his Irish accent is. It’s rich and silky, like how I’d imagine a fancy whiskey would be. But just like the alcohol, something about it burns, too.
My grandfather clears his throat and hastily shakes his head. “No, no, of course not. I’ve been here plenty of times. Good food…beautiful atmosphere.”
“You haven’t brought me here,” My grandmother points out with a slight pout. I find myself chewing on the inside of my cheek, even if I don’t quite understand why. The constant tension in this limo is fraying my already broken nerves even further. I feel my hands tremble, and I fold them together tightly so no one can see it.
My grandfather gives a nervous chuckle, glancing at the Irish Demon quickly, as if he didn’t want him to know that information. “Well, yes. I was going to surprise you for our next anniversary.” It’s a lie that none of us buy.
My grandfather likes to spoil himself with his riches. That much is obvious. But in my experience with him, I’ve noticed that he doesn’t really like to spend his money on anyone else. My grandmother is the rare exception, since otherwise she complains. I think he does just enough to appease her. I glance out of the corner of my eye towards the Irish Demon. How much of our future marriage, if I could even call it that, will be like that? He’s already setting me up for a cut of the docks only just to keep me from whining, that’s what he said.
