Page 114 of One Wealthy Wedding

Theo smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You can do it remotely. I asked.”

“You what?”

“I called them,” he says slowly, like I’m an idiot.

“It’s a weekend.”

“They’re always open for big donors, princess. Come on.”

“You bribed them?” I sit up straight. “You bribed my school? What the fuck, Theo?” My voice is rising in the car, and I hope like hell that Daniel can’t hear me.

“I did what I needed to do. It got me this far.” He shrugs.

I see red. “I am not going anywhere with you.”

“It’s Monaco. You’ll like it.”

Theo doesn’t know anything. Monaco is the type of place I’d hate. I’d rather be home with a good book than be paraded around like an expensive handbag, an accessory to Theo’s success.

“No,” I say. “It’s exactly the type of place you like. I would rather be here, living my normal life.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks. I love when it does that, because it means I’ve won.

“You promised, Cat. You said you’d go to events when I needed you.” His gaze cuts to mine, and in it, I see the certainty that I’m going back on my word, like I’m that kind of person, and Theo’s not surprised about it.

I feel like we’re right back in the car together the day we got married, at each other’s throats and bargaining. It’s like the last seven weeks never even happened. The thought makes my chest ache, but I steel myself.

I was controlled once. I let myself be controlled. A stronger person would have left, and the person I am today won’t let Theo tell her what to do.

“I told you how much this type of freedom meant to me.” I blow out a slow breath.

His eyes flicker with an emotion I can’t name, but he nods once. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Anger is tightening my throat. “Do you understand what it felt like to be told what to wear and who to speak to? What college I could attend and what time dinner was and what color my hair was allowed to be? This is that all over again.”

“It’s not, Cat, I swear. I was just trying to do something for you.”

“You were trying to do something for yourself,” I say bitterly.

I see realization dawning on his face, but it’s too little, too late. I press my head against the cool glass of the car and try to ignore Theo.

I thought he was different.

35

Theo

Ifucked up. Cat won’t look at me or speak to me, and I trail her helplessly into the house. She’s not helpless. No, she’s ice and cool disregard.

“Cat,” I say, as she drops her bag in the living room. “Please. Let’s talk.”

She rounds on me. “Why? So you can tell me how shallow I am? How much I’ll like Monaco?” Her eyes flash, but she sits on the edge of the couch, and I take the seat opposite.

Irritation flares. Cat will always think the worst of me.

I open my mouth to tell her that, and then I notice how tightly her hands are clasped, how straight her spine is. Her chin is lifted, but her skin is white across the bones of her knuckles. I recognize this pose. It’s the one she used to adopt with her father. I’d see her sometimes, in the living room, sitting like a doll, waiting. For what, I never knew, but now I think she might have been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And haven’t I always thought the worst of her too?

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