Page 15 of Collared Mate

“Don’t be stubborn. You were happy with Christian.”

I fucking wasn’t, but he doesn’t care. Nobody cares. I don’t bother talking to him about it because he won’t listen. I could tie him to a chair and spend a year explaining exactly how bad it was with Christian and he’d still want me married off again.

I make dessert. Rick can go look up his contacts and see who is dumb enough to try to force me into marriage again. I let it happen when I was eighteen. I won’t be letting it happen again.

He’s behind me as I try to find a suitable banana.

“Just be at the party tomorrow night and don’t wear black.”

I’d forgotten about his party. The Swale estate holds multiple functions a year for a wide range of reasons. My mother was a consummate hostess. Rick thinks it is important to keep up her tradition. I am not as concerned with keeping the past alive.

“Fuck off, Rick.”

“I’m serious,” he says. “It’s been months since Christian died. It’s time you got back on the market.”

“You’re not even married,” I remind him. “Why don’t you worry about yourself in this theoretical market?”

“I’m not ready to be married.”

“You’re nearly thirty, Rick. Your sperm are shriveling.”

He twists up his face. “Can you not talk about my sperm?”

“I won’t talk about your sperm if you stop trying to set me up. I’m not interested in being married again. I did what you wanted me to do once. I’m not doing it again.”

“It’s not the same for me as it is for you. You’re a female. You need to have a mate. I’m not going to let you run wild.”

I smirk into my banana. If he had any idea how wild I’ve already been, he’d be freaking out so badly I bet I’d never see the light of day again. He’d have me married off to a Russian pack before you could say Bratva.

“I’m being good,” I tell him, looking over my shoulder while holding a knife. “And I’ll be at the party. I’ll wear gray. No. Silver.”

He narrows his eyes at me because he’s smart enough to know that my compliance is not compliance. I dip my spoon into the ice cream and suckle on it innocently until he makes a grunting sound and walks away.

He’s busy. He has a lot to deal with.

I do want to butter him up a little, though. I want him to tell me what happened between him and Henry. That’s a mystery I need to get to the bottom of. Not tonight, though. Tonight I have to pretend to be the dutiful sister he wants me to be so I fall back into the swarm of problems he otherwise has and let him forget about me.

CHAPTER 3

Fiona

I keep my word about the party.

A string quartet is playing in a corner of the ballroom as I come down the stairs. The foyer is full of people milling about wearing their very best clothes and masks to hide their identity. All of them are wolf masks, of course, though I think I spot a few foxes who have snuck in on some of the ladies. Vixens all of them, I think to myself.

There’s a palpable air of excitement from the crowd. Each of them has earned their way here, one way or another. Getting an invite to one of Richard Swale’s parties is an achievement that many city socialites would sacrifice their careers for.

I, of course, don’t have the same level of jubilation about the whole thing. My presence here is mandatory. I am some kind of sub-host. People expect me to be here, to smile, to occasionally feign interest in them and the facile facets of their lives that they choose to expose to me.

Rick’s little masquerade has been on the calendar for months. I don’t think much about these parties anymore. I have so many dresses to wear, most from my mother’s collection. She was an absolute clotheshorse and genetics have ensured we have pretty much the same body type. I might be a little thicker than she was, but that means the dresses cling more to my curves, which nobody seems to mind.

The dress I am wearing is low cut in the back and in the front, perfectly tailored to make Rick think I am complying with his request for me to be hot and available. I have a matching little wolf mask, which fools nobody. This body? These hips? Iconic.

“You look incredible, Fiona.”

Sass, Rick’s unofficial girlfriend, greets me with a broad smile. She is a gorgeous creature with long red hair that falls to her waist, wide, expressive eyes, a button nose, and an air of friendly kindness. He should marry her, but he won’t, because he’s an asshole. You’re not supposed to think things like that about your own brother, but it’s true. She’s in love with him, and he knows it. Then again, everyone’s been in love with Rick for years. What’s not to love? He’s got the family eyes, the bone structure, the thick dark hair, oh and of course, sole control of the many millions. That’s enough to make anyone fall head over heels.

“Thanks,” I smile, forcing myself to sound like I care.