Page 5 of My Forever Sin

“It’s not a choice, Kain. This is a family legacy. You don’t get to make decisions in this life. Should anything happen to me or Father, it is up to you to—”

“I’m not holding up no fucking legacy,” I cut him off sharply. “Taking advantage of the poorest people in town? Just so I can stuff my own pockets? No fucking way.” I shake my head.

“You know Father won’t let you leave.”

“I’d like to see him try and stop me.”

Just as soon as I can convince Jordie to leave with me—

As if called by a phantom wind, my attention turns back towards the door and all the tension in my muscles fades.

I see her all the time, but I swear every time I do, it’s like I’m laying eyes on her for the first time, reviving those stomach jitters.

Ivory skin radiant in the candlelight, and crystal blue eyes already bouncing around the attendees. I can’t help the smile stretching over my face as the rest of the room dwindles to black and nothing else exists. Her silky dress flows around her knees, with the corset hugging her tightly, revealing her generous cleavage—one that hides her only tattoo. Her black hair is pulled up into a messy, curly bun at the top of her head.

My Jordie.

Her gaze catches mine as she and her mother approach us. My heart kicks into a frantic rhythm as her mouth twitches in a small smile. I want nothing more than to pull her in like the other couples in this room… but I can’t.

And that reality fucking stings.

What we have is forbidden by my family because we weren’t chosen for each other by the clergy. Every day feels like we’re on borrowed time. We’re like an inevitable time bomb caused by another girl in this room who’s been written for me in stone by my father.

Lacey Spenser.

Jordie knows it. I know it.

Yet, we can’t seem to stay away from each other, even though we both know how this will end—flames and ash. I’d say damn the rules and consequences, but this isn’t just my decision, it’s also hers. But I swear, if I can get us out of this town, I will. I will do anything it takes.

“Miss Clarence!” The priest greets them first.

“Are you listening to me?” Dorian nudges my arm, causing annoyance to shoot through me.

“No.”

“Mr Westbrook, Father Michaels, it’s so good to see you again.” Vivian—Jordie’s mother—smiles warmly at my father. He clears his throat, before taking her perfectly posed hand and bringing it to his lips, lingering for a second longer than they probably should.

She has the same blue eyes as Jordie, but it’s the only thing they share. Vivian’s blonde hair is a stark contrast to her daughters.

The woman makes my blood simmer and is another one of the people on my list I want as far away as humanly possible from my girl. I’ve seen the way Vivian is with Jordie, even if Jordie doesn’t want to admit to the subtle abuse, but unfortunately, I’ve not been able to convince her that our lives shouldn’t look like this. Jordie thinks she deserves it, and it breaks my heart. She’s terrified of these people.

Jordie fights hard to look anywhere but me as Vivian guides her forward like she’s presenting a lamb to the slaughter house. “Father Michaels, I don’t believe you’ve met my daughter, Jordan, yet.”

Father Michaels’ leery gaze lands on Jordie, his beady eyes sliding up and down her body. My molars grind together with unimaginable weight, and now I’m thinking about how I can murder this fucker without being punished. The worst they’ll do is baptise me but the last time that happened, I was ten and almost drowned. I can’t be sure it wasn’t a warning. And if one day they decide to kill me, who’s going to protect Jordie?

“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Clarence. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Michaels praises, sounding all too perky.

I catch the way her eyes flick up and down his frame and her lips twitch into disgust, hidden by an uncomfortable smile, but it’s there and gone in a millisecond. Polite and obedient, just like they want her.

If only they knew.

They continue with their conversation. Jordie settles herself on the other side of Vivian and stands in front of me, facing to the side.

Her chocolate scent lodges in my nostrils. The day Jordan Clarence doesn’t smell like the chocolate she’s just demolished, will be the day that Blackcastle will be free of my father. There’s a soft smirk on her face as she eyes me from the side. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s taunting me, as she always does in these situations knowing I can barely keep my hands to myself whenever she’s around.

Clinking of a champagne glass quietens the murmur of conversations, leaving only the soft jazz music playing. “Dinner will be served shortly,” the waiter's amplified voice booms from the dais, beckoning everyone to sit.

“Mr Westbrook!” A sing-song voice stops us all before we get a chance to move.