Page 65 of Lord of Pain
Our cruise director from hell is back, rapping sharply on the door as she unlocks it. Roy is lurking behind her, his eager smiledrops when he sees that we're in our evening gowns. They'd picked identical pink gowns for Rose and Iris - how adorable and extra creepy - they're tight in the bust, showing too much cleavage and mine is… surprise, surprise, violet colored. It's floor length, tight enough that it's difficult to walk, much less run. But maybe that is their plan.
The mansion is buzzing with activity; cigar smoke drifting out of one lounge, carrying the sound of self-satisfied, masculine laughter and the clink of glasses. Maids are everywhere, conspicuous in their white aprons and little black dresses -verylittle, these fucking perverts - they're setting a huge dining room table, others placing vases of fresh flowers. They all cringe under Blondie's sharp glare.
One of the doors opens and my heart leaps when two women walk by us, until I realize they're perfectly crafted and groomed. just like my mother.
"Two of the Stepford wives," I murmur to Rose and Iris. "Don't bother to ask them for help." The women slow down as they pass by us, their curious gaze scanning us from head to toe. That makes me wonder. If the wives are here, maybe I can find Poppy. Surely she wouldn't agree tothis.
At the end of the hall, Roy opens a set of double doors and we're in a study, three men - one of them Colin - turn to look at us. The sunset's shining through enormous floor to ceiling windows, facing out over the ocean on one side and the front entry and the forest on the other.
Theseassholeshave a full fire raging in the fireplace and I rub my bare arms. The air conditioner's been turned down to polar levels so that they're comfortable. The Chads are all in golf attire, there's a dark haired one in his late 30s, I think I've seen him atJack's parties. Another one of The Chads is older, balding with a tight pinched mouth.
"Welcome, ladies!" Colin lifts his glass of, no doubt, expensive whiskey to us. "Jack, don't your daughters look lovely?"
Son of a bitch.
Our dear stepfather turns, shoulders slightly hunched in his expensive shirt. He's wearing a patch over his left eye.
"I think the patch adds something, a bit of a rakish air," Colin says cheerfully. "We keep telling him that it only makes him look more distinguished."
"Slap a patch on an asshole and he's still an asshole." My smarter self is desperately signaling me to shut up and smooth things over. Put them at ease. Lull them into thinking we're not a threat.
Fuck it. Insanely furious Violet is behind the wheel.
"Itdoesdistinguish you as a treacherous piece of shit willing to sell out his own family for a promotion," I say viciously, taking a step towards him. The cowardly little bastard actually takes a step back, bumping into the heavy gold drapes. The other two men snicker and his face flushes angrily.
"Be seated ladies," Colin says. Jack stays huddled in the corner on the window seat, but the other men settle in wingback chairs. We cautiously lower ourselves to the couch, holding hands.
"Let me introduce you," Colin says. "Rose, this is your new husband, Malcolm Cavendish. Rose Cavendish, it has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" The dark haired one smiles at her with a benign nod. "Iris, you've been fortunate enough to be chosen by Summit Ventures' CFO, Jonas Kennedy."
If possible, the balding CFO's mouth pinches even tighter. "I've had to wait for you to turn eighteen," he rasps. "Very inconvenient."
Iris makes a choked little noise. He must be fifty.
"And you, my darling Violet." Colin smiles at me fondly, as if he's been courting me for months, taking me out on Sunday afternoons for brunch, and evenings at the theater. "I'm delighted to be taking you as my wife tomorrow."
"You must be joking," I say flatly.
"Not at all," Colin says. Malcolm and creepy Jonas seem happy to have him handle the 'unpleasantness' of explaining that we've been, essentially, bought and paid for. Colin walks over, pulling me up and placing a kiss on the inside of my wrist before I can jerk my hand away, wiping it on the skirt of my dress.
"Youwilllearn to behave, darling." He says it almost gently, but that gleam is back in his eye, the kind of cruel indifference that makes me believe he has no problem killing me if he can't control me. "The men in Pinnacle Ventures hold strong values. We marry for life, we raise families. We're building a lasting dynasty, and you young ladies are fortunate to be part of this grand experiment."
"Do you really think we'll go along with this?" I'm genuinely curious to hear how he thinks he's going to pull this off. Colin circles me, taking a long drink, ice cubes clinking in his glass and letting me wait as he savors what I'm sure is a 'forward peat with the lingering salt indicative of a fine, Islay scotch,' before he swallows, because that is what a pretentious asshole would do.
"Let me be clear. Iownyou. Malcolm and Jonas own your sisters. This is your life now."
I punch him in the face.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
In which the girls learn the true horror of interdependence.
Violet…
I punch him in the face.
Not a slap, a proper punch, with my knuckles angled just the way Roman taught me and it hits his cheekbone with a deeply satisfying crunch. Blood spurts from his nose as he staggers back three steps, shocked. I shake my hand out. It hurts like hell and feels so. Damn. Good.
"Oh, that was a mistake." Colin chuckles gutturally, wiping his nose.
