Page 10 of Perfect Sin

Women in this world seem to be barely more important than horses. The fact her countenance is referred to as breeding is a prime example. Then there’s the fact her appearance is clearly considered one of her most important assets.

I don’t really expect Carina and Arthur to naturally have a sense of who I am, but the fact that this is who they expect their Jackson to be attracted to makes me happy for the first time I was separated from them. The pain and trauma I’ve experienced kept me from being a pompous douchebag, someone Raven never would have been drawn to.

Everyone stands when I enter the room. Arthur gestures to me to join them. “Steven and Rochelle Emerson, this is our son Jackson.”

They all smile at me, because of course this is the happy ending to a decades-long tragedy. I’m supposed to be thankful for all the opportunities lying ahead of me and embrace my role as a Whitmore.

What they fail to see is that under the pretty face is a darkness longing to lash out. Hands that should be soft due to idleness are calloused from hard work and violence. I’m still every bit the pretty monster I warned Raven I was. Maybe worse now that I have something to lose.

“And this is their lovely daughter, Whitney,” he continues his introductions.

“You must be so happy to be home,” Rochelle gushes.

Again, the urge to lash out forces me to stay quiet.

“Jackson, Mrs. Emerson is speaking to you,” Arthur reproaches.

Glaring at him, I try to convey how much it would not be in his favor for me to speak at the moment. He fails to catch on.

“My home is with my wife. A fact Arthur seems to want to ignore.”

The Emersons exchange a look. “But I thought you were forced into that marriage by the man who kept you captive? You’re working to annul that marriage, correct?”

I hope Damien has a back up plan, because I highly doubt after this dinner Arthur and Carina will want me out in public. Then again, he did tell me I didn’t have to agree to date other women.

“I’d hardly describe my relationship with her as forced since we ran away together and started dating despite neither her father or her brother wanting us to be together. Then she and I eloped in secret to keep them from splitting us up. The only thing I’m being forced to do is be away from her.”

Steven Emerson focuses on Arthur. “I thought you said he was open to escorting Whitney to the benefit.”

Arthur’s face is growing red and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I believe I said it would be good for him to escort Whitney so he sees what it’s like to be around sophisticated women of class.”

For her part, Whitney sits and watches the interaction as if they aren’t discussing her future like she’s livestock.

“I won’t have my daughter tangled in a scandal with a married man,” Steven asserts.

“Surely we could encourage a friendship,” Arthur presses. “Once Jackson is no longer brainwashed by the people who kept him captive, he’ll come around.”

Steven taps a manicured finger against his lips. “I suppose there’s no harm in that.”

“Excellent,” I smirk and stare at Whitney. She recoils from my glare, letting me know she at least sees the darkness roiling under the surface. “Everyone can use more friends.” I emphasize the wordfriendsso she clearly understands I’m not interested in pursuing her.

The same servant reappears in the room to let everyone know dinner is being served. The two couples stroll ahead, leaving me to walk the short distance to the dining room with the prized horseflesh.

Dinner conversation is dull. They drone on about stock portfolios until their wives complain about discussing business during dinner. Next they move on to gossip about members of their social circuit.

Unfortunately they run out of topics and turn their attention to me. “Jackson, will you be attending college next fall?” Rochelle asks.

“No,” I reply without providing additional information.

“Of course he will,” Arthur states. “As soon as we can dig up his transcripts, we’ll make sure he gets accepted to a top university.”

“What transcripts?” I ask. Carina mentioned this earlier. It baffles me that on one hand they assume I’ve been mistreated and brainwashed, and yet on the other think I was actually sent to school like a normal person.

“From school, honey,” Carina explains as if I’m ignorant.

I shake my head. “I’ve never been to school. No transcripts.”

Steven coughs out an embarrassed laugh. “Never been to school? What kind of people don’t send a child to school?”

---