Page 18 of Firefly
The Augustine Estate glows with wealth and power beneath massive crystal chandeliers. Women dripping in diamonds laugh softly over wine while men discuss politics, money, and control like they own the world. Maybe they do.
I sit beside Brayden, trying not to disappear into myself completely. His hand rests possessively on my thigh beneath the table.
I hate it. I hate him.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he whispers against my ear.
“I’m just tired,” I whisper back.
“You’re always tired,” he grunts.
Maybe because pretending to love you exhausts me.
I swallow the words. Not wanting to fight with him in front of all these people.
Across the table, my father watches me carefully. Always watching and calculating.
Dinner drags on endlessly until Brayden suddenly smirks beside me.
“Oh,” he says causally, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I almost forgot.”
His demeanor makes me instantly tense.
“I’m fighting at The Dungeon tomorrow night,” he states as several men at the table grin approvingly.
Of course they do.
They know all about the Dungeon.
Rich men love violence as long as they aren’t the ones bleeding.
He squeezes my thigh harder, making me wince, but I bite my lip. “And Ophelia will be there supporting me,” he finishes, and I freeze.
“The Dungeon?” I repeat quietly.
“Yeah, is there a problem?” he asks with a raised brow.
“I’m not going,” I say too quickly, and his smile falters along with the entire table going silent. Brayden stares at me in disbelief.
“What?” he says, and I take a deep breath.
“I said I’m not going. It’s really not my scene,” I lie, and his grip tightens painfully.
“You’re my future wife. You go where I tell you to go,” he grits, and I turn to him.
“I don’t care.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. Brayden's expression darkens instantly.
“You ungrateful little bitch,” he mutters beneath his breath.
Humiliation burns through me as several people pretend not to hear him. “I’m serious, Effie. You will be there.”
“No,” I say, only this time my words come out stronger and, for a second, I almost feel proud of myself.
Then he leans closer, smiling cruelly.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a frigid fucking tease, people would actually enjoy being around you,” he spits, and my throat tightens as I shove back from the table before the tears can fall.
