I barked a laugh. “There is no fucking way I'm going to do any of that.”
“Very well.” He picked up a folder and held it up. “Then this is what will happen, effective immediately. Your credit cards will be canceled. All payments to them will cease. Your trust fund will be split among your nieces and nephews, your inheritance between your siblings. Next month's rent will not be paid. Your car payments will stop. Your bank accounts frozen.”
My hangover had to be messing with my hearing or processing power. There was no way my father would cut me off. Not completely. He might get a bit mad and cut back my allowance, but this?
“I've already had the paperwork drawn up,” he said, shaking the folder. “Including a new will. If you don't agree to my terms, the moment you walk out of here, you're done. No more money. No financial support.”
My tongue was thick, and tried to stick to the roof of my mouth. “You'd let me get kicked out of my place? Lose my car?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“If it teaches you some responsibility, then yes.” He tapped the folder again. “Absolutely.”
“I-I...” I had no clue what I was supposed to say. “The job thing, okay, but marriage? How the hell am I supposed to find some appropriate woman to marry in six months?” Hell, I didn’t know anyone who came close to appropriate.
“That won't be as difficult as you think,” he said.
I didn't like the sound of that.
“I have the perfect match for you. She's in her early twenties, beautiful, and from a good family who does business with us.”
“You want me to marry one of your business partner's daughters.” I made it a statement so I could see if it made sense when I heard it out loud. It didn't.
“Our families are having dinner tomorrow at six. You will be here.”
I was now wishing I'd sat down. How had this happened? Just last night, I'd been out having fun with my friends, hooking up with a smoking hot chick. Now, my father was telling me that life was over. I had to marry some rich society bitch and get a respectable job or lose everything.
“The choice is yours, Blayne,” he said. “But you have to make it before you leave the house today. No more screwing around.”
Dammit.
Chapter 3
Blayne
My siblings were at the house with their families by the time I arrived. Not really a surprise. They were all perfect. Pretty much the worst thing any of them did was Samuel helping me out. Not that he'd done much yesterday.
I scowled at him as he set down his squirming youngest. Prudence came running over to me and I picked her up. She was the youngest of my nieces and nephews and, for some crazy reason, I was her godfather. Even after five years, I couldn't believe Samuel had managed to talk Hannah into it.
I focused on the girl's chatter as I went to join everyone else in the dining room. The other kids, ranging all the way up to Cecily's oldest, Tabitha, were sitting at the 'kids' table, though the older ones were looking quite unhappy at their placement. I sighed as I handed Prudence off to fourteen year-old Jonathan. He took his sister and then I was forced to join the adults.
My brothers-in-law both looked bored, but everyone knew how this worked. When my father said mandatory family time, he meant it for everyone. Both Gerald and Hamilton had money and prestige, but that was part of how this whole thing worked. All of the high society families in the city had to stick together. They'd talk behind each other’s backs, criticize and ridicule, but heaven forbid anyone try to infiltrate the circle.
I'd barely sat down when the doorbell rang and the butler showed the Stirling family in. Both Mr. and Mrs. Stirling had on the usual fake smiles that people in our social circle wore when they tried to pretend they were friends rather than just admitting it was all about the money and the name.
I did smile for real when I saw her though. Rebecca was hot. Light blond hair and hazel eyes. She was tall, but I was tall enough that she could wear heels and still need to tilt her head to look at me. She was a bit thinner than I liked. Not because I disliked slender girls, but because it was obvious it wasn't her natural build. I'd seen Ashlyn try to starve her curves so she looked more like our older sister Caitlyn. Rebecca didn't look healthy, but for all I knew it was stress. Considering the whispering I heard from my siblings, Rebecca had been put in charge of one of her family's companies when her older brother took off for Europe after some chick dumped him. Stress was a good possibility. I wondered if she knew why she was here.
“So you're Rebecca.” I gave her my most charming smile and pulled out the chair next to me. That earned me an approving look from my father and prompted an urge to flip someone off. I behaved myself though.
“And you're Blayne.” She smiled back, but it didn't reach her eyes.
That answered my unasked question. She knew our families had been discussing us getting married. I didn't blame her for being pissed. I was getting blackmailed. She was getting offered up like some sort of prize. Had to suck for her. Then again, she was getting me. It wasn't like I was repulsive.
Neither was she, I thought as she sat down and crossed her legs. Even on the thin side, she was hot and there was something about her that told me she was probably good in bed.
“I've heard of you,” she said as our parents started in on some conversation about mergers and the economy. “The Westmore's wild child.”
“Really?” I smiled and angled my chair so that my knee brushed against her thigh. “All good things, I hope.”
She cocked her head. “Depends on what you mean by good. I've heard you like to party.”
“True,” I said.
“And that you'll sleep with pretty much anyone who opens their legs.”
“Ouch.” I put my hand on my chest as if I was hurt by the claim and then I laughed. “Not entirely accurate, but not really inaccurate either.”
She reached for her wine glass and took a long drink. “I'm just wondering what would make someone like you agree to settle down.” She gestured to herself. “I'm far from unattractive, but agreeing to marriage seems a bit out of character based on what I know about you.”
I considered lying, but I figured she'd find out sooner or later. Better she heard it from me. “My father threatened to cut me off if I didn't straighten up. Part of that was getting married to a 'suitable woman’.”
Her laugh was brittle. “Nice that two families with money have to make it all about money.”
“What are yours using against you?”
She shrugged and drained her glass. “I wasn't my parent’s first choice to run their company. It had always been Reed – the chosen one. For the past month, I've been running things, but that's not enough for them. They want a merger with your family and I'm just a chess piece to be used.”
Wow, there was some serious bitter in that.
“Don't worry, Blayne,” she said with a tight smile. “I accepted my place in this world a long time ago.”
I didn't have a response for that. Rebecca didn't seem like the nicest girl in the world, but she certainly deserved better than a forced marriage. Especially to someone like me.
“Attention, please.”
My father's voice cut through all of the chatter. All eyes turned to him as the butler refilled our drinks.
“I'd like to propose a toast.”
Spiders crawled up my spine. I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what was coming next.
Dad held up his glass and everyone else followed suit, including me. I hoped this would be a generic speech about friendship and building bridges, but I doubted I'd be that lucky.
“To our future,” he said. “The Westmores and the Stirlings, joined together in business and in love. To Rebecca and Blayne.”
Judging by the startled expressions on my siblings' faces, Dad hadn't told them the plans.
“We're thinking a spring wedding,” Mrs. Stirling said with a smile toward Rebecca. “Pastels, of course.”
“We'll want to make the announcement in a couple weeks,” my mother added. “Benjamin and I were thinking we'd do something tasteful for the public, with specialized invitations for everyone who matters.”
“The guest list is going to be a nightmare,” Mrs. Stirling said. “We're going to have to find a huge venue if we want all the important people to be there.”
“Maybe a small reception then,” my mother countered. “Something personal, with just our closest friends.”
I couldn't keep the laughter in at that one. Everyone glared at me.
“Something funny, Blayne?” my father asked.
“Are any of my friends even going to be invited?” I asked. I glanced at Rebecca. One corner of her mouth twitched in an effort not to smile. “I'm assuming Benjamin and Samuel would be my groomsmen, but I don't suppose I'd get to choose anyone else. You're going to do that for me, right?”
“Blayne.”
I heard the warning note in my father's voice, but I didn't care. The anger I'd been keeping back bubbled up. I stood.
“You know what,” I said. “I don't think this is going to work for me.” I looked down at Rebecca. “Nothing personal, Becca. In fact, I think you deserve to be someone's first choice, not a bargaining chip.”
“That's enough.” My father slammed his hand down on the table.
“You're right,” I agreed. “That is enough. You can force me into marriage, but I'm not going to let you force anyone else into marrying someone like me. I'm a screw up, remember?” I made a decision and didn't second guess myself. “I'm not marrying her.”
Before anyone could react to my statement, I turned around and walked away. I was at the door before my dad started shouting at me to come back.
Chapter 4
Katka
I stretched out on my sister's bed as she dressed for work. We were quite the pair, the two of us. She was the older sister, the one who'd watched out for both of us since our parents had died. Actually, she'd watched out for me even before that. Livie Dusek was the perfect big sister. Me? I was the wild child, the younger one who sometimes needed her big sister to bail her out. Never out of anything serious, but I did have a knack of leaping before I looked.
“Katka.” Livie turned to look at me. “I just made that bed.” Her tone was faintly chiding, her accent thickening as it did whenever she spoke to me.
We'd been born in the Czech Republic, raised there both before and after our parents' death. When Livie turned seventeen, she'd gotten a modeling job and everything changed for us. She'd toured Europe for a few years, getting us both out of the orphanage we'd spend most of our lives. That's when we'd finally had enough money to get to America. We'd been here for three years and I knew I'd never go back. It wasn't home anymore. My sister was home.
“Katka!” she spoke more sharply. “My bed.”
“I’ll make it again for you,” I promised. When she raised her eyebrow at me, I grinned, grabbed her sheet and pulled it off the edge of the bed.
“
Fena
,” she said affectionately.
“Must you go to work today?” I asked and faked a pout. “It’s a beautiful day. We should spend it together. It’s supposed to snow later this week.”
Livie's dark green eyes narrowed. “You know I cannot do that.” She scowled at me as she pulled her caramel-colored curls back into one of her usual ponytails.
“If you had taken the job with the modeling agency, you would not need to work at that place.” I pointed out. I twisted my own curls up so they cushioned my head.
“I am not starving myself for the American standard of beauty,” she countered. “We have already had this discussion.”
I sighed. She was right. We were both slender, but not gaunt. She exercised, but for health rather than weight. She had learned rather quickly that here, it wasn’t good enough. I sat up. “Maybe I should come with you.”
“That is a bad idea.” Livie said as she smoothed down her shirt. “Do you remember the last time you accompanied me to work?”
I laughed. I did indeed. It hadn't been at Livie's current place of employment. She had worked at a bar and grill as a waitress. I had gone in to see her and had a drink while I was waiting. One drink had turned into more and I accidentally slept with her married boss. His wife – and part-owner of the bar – had been so angry at what I'd done, she had fired Livie as retaliation.
“I do not believe that was an amusing story, little Kat.”
Despite her words, I heard the humor in her voice. Plus, she never called me by my nickname when she was truly angry. She had not liked her job there. The man I had slept with had always been hitting on her and she had threatened to out him to his wife, but had never followed through. I loved my sister, but she was often too soft about certain things. If it had been me in trouble, she wouldn't have hesitated, but to defend herself... she rarely acted.
“You didn’t think it was amusing to watch his wife catch us?” I asked.
There was a hint of a smile playing about her lips now and I knew she was remembering how the woman had screamed and cursed, throwing things at us both. I'd narrowly missed being hit in the head with a bottle of very expensive vodka. Her husband hadn't been so lucky. The bottle had hit him right above his eye and he'd been knocked out cold.
“Will you please behave yourself while I am gone?” She turned toward me. “No parties, no bringing men back to the apartment.”