I’m in my room sitting on my bed, and no matter how many blankets I wrap around my body, I can’t seem to get warm.
Seeing my father yesterday was harder than I expected. He’d lost a lot of weight, and he didn’t look good. He looked small and weak, cheeks hollowed out and so pale like he was fighting for every breath.
Or he would be if he weren’t on a machine that was doing the breathing for him.
I talked to one of the doctors who said he’d gone into cardiac arrest. And he didn’t have to tell me the outcome didn’t look good. I could see that. So I sat beside him and held his hand and tried not to sob.
My dad and I, we’re as close as you can get when you’re a daughter of a Society family. The females are considered second-class citizens, and daughters are marriage material to, ideally, better your standing within the organization or birth the sons of the next generation. Sons hold more value. Although not Abel because he was a product of a marriage not sanctified by The Society.
But when we were alone, Dad was different. He was never unkind. My mother was the one always ready to smack you with the back of her hand or burn you with the tip of a cigarette she swore she didn’t smoke. My dad was gentle. And at times, affectionate even.
No. He is gentle. He’s still here. And as long as he’s still here, there’s still a chance.
He let me go away to college. That doesn’t happen to most girls within The Society. Girls live at home. They study but only under the watchful eyes of their parents.
I think back to Dr. Chambers, shuddering at the thought of what it must have been like having him for a father. It actually makes me understand Maria a little more.
My dad is different. And I want to believe that some part of him hoped I would somehow get away from the clutches of The Society. At least on some subconscious level.
I try to remember those things as I sit here now. Not how small he looked in that hospital bed. Not the ongoing sounds of the machines he was hooked up to.
I stare at the garment bag hanging on my closet door. It’s clear. I can see through it to my wedding dress. It’s beautiful. Black. It fits my mood. And it fits for a Society wedding to a stranger.
There must be yards of lace and too many satin buttons to count. The veil is in its own bag, and it’s even longer than the dress. The shoes, though, as gorgeous as they are, will be staying in their box. Maybe he can return them and get his money back. Because if I wear those, I will surely break my neck.
I glance at the clock. A little after nine o’clock. Three hours to go.
Evangeline and my mother are gone. I haven’t seen either of them since my visit with Dad. I wonder if my mother picked up Evangeline from school and is keeping her away on Abel’s orders. Or Santiago’s. The only other person in the house with me is James. I guess Abel isn’t taking a chance that I’ll make a run for it.
Twenty more minutes pass like this with me sitting on the bed numb and wondering how I’m going to do it. How I’m going to get up and get dressed and go to the church and get married.
Married
To a stranger.
Abel was smart to use Evangeline to trap me. His words before I got out of the Rolls replay in my mind of what he’ll do once he has guardianship of Evangeline. Which he will get because our mother will give that to him as per the rules of The Society. The head of household must be male, and if Dad dies, he’s it.
I’m thinking.
Santiago De La Rosa will be my husband in a matter of hours.
Santiago is a powerful man. Can he do something? Would he? Would he help me if I asked him to?
He can’t be worse than Abel. I just can’t believe anyone could be more hateful than Abel.
Pushing the blankets off, I get out of bed. I change into an old swimsuit and pull on a robe, then walk out of my room. I head down the stairs and, still barefoot, out the back door. James is on my heels, but I don’t bother with him.
It’s misty, the grass wet and cold beneath my bare feet as I make my way to the pool at the back of the dark garden. My mother keeps it heated throughout the winter to swim her laps. She wanted an indoor pool, and I remember the fight she’d had with my father when he’d outright told her we couldn’t afford that. So outdoor it is.
James stands back and watches as I drop my robe. Shuddering in the cool night, I make my way to the stairs that lead down into the pool. The water is cold. Colder than I expect for a heated pool. Wasn’t she heating it anymore? Although the house isn’t maintained like it used to be. I don’t stop. I keep going until I’m in as deep as my chest, then submerge myself entirely and swim.
I swim short laps back and forth and back and forth. It’s not a very big pool. I don’t know how long I keep going only opening my eyes when I come up for air. I just swim, staying under as long as possible, the sound and weight of the water drowning out my thoughts. Drowning out the world.
Maybe something good will come out of this marriage.
Maybe I can save my little sister.
Even if I have to sleep with a monster to do it.
I’m so wrapped up in the swimming that I don’t even register the two people beside James. I swim another lap, then another before I hear a woman laugh, and then Abel hissing my name.
I stop when I get to the deep end of the pool only because Abel reaches down to grab my hand and keep me there.
Abel claims not to like swimming. I’m pretty sure he can’t do it. If you ask me, he’s afraid of the water. But he’d never admit to either of those things because both would be considered weaknesses. So instead of pulling away, I grip his hand just as hard, my eyes locked on his.
If I pulled him in, would he drown?
Would I save him? Or would I hold him under, maybe? It’s an entertaining thought.
I tug.
“Let go, Ivy,” he hisses and glances at the woman.
I follow his gaze and see why he’s trying to be the big man here. She’s beautiful. I’ve never seen her before and have no idea who she is, but she is striking. And about a thousand times out of Abel’s league.
“Mercedes De La Rosa has come to prepare you for her brother.”
The woman walks over and stops at the edge of the pool even while I’m still processing the way Abel just said that.
I let go of Abel, and he straightens, wiping water off his suit and apologizing to her. Looking ridiculous as he kisses her ass.
He wants her. It’s so obvious.
It’s also obvious she wouldn’t let him lick the bottom of her snakeskin Jimmy Choos.
She only has eyes for me anyway. She’s staring so intently all I can do is hold her gaze. “Hello, Ivy,” she says, her tone haughty, her smile the opposite of warm.
I know instantly she and I will not be friends.