Page 11 of A Debt of Darkness

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

4

UNHOLY MATRIMONY

IVY

Isink into the cushions and pull the toweling around my neck. My chin rests on the sofa as Mia styles my hair. She keeps asking how I want it and the simple answer is I don’t give a flying fuck.

It doesn’t matter what my hair looks like. Nothing matters anymore. I don’t want to get married, but it’s happening anyway. In an hour. The braid in my hair and the type of pins she adorns it with are the least of my goddamn problems.

“You should eat something,” she says, gently.

My eyes flick to the vast array of cakes and sandwiches laid out on one of the sideboards. Despite his insistence I eat with him, Henry felt obliged to ensure I didn’t faint during our wedding. I doubt passing out would save me from this marriage, but it would postpone it, and that feels like a win.

Mia clips another strand of hair into place before piling a plate high with food.

“Eat,” she says, shoving the plate under my nose. “I’ll be in trouble if you faint.”

I shake my head and turn away. “I don’t want to ruin my figure.”

The plate appears under my nose again and my mouth waters.

“Eat, or I’ll get Henry.”

I pull a face as a last protest and nibble on a pastry. Mia works faster and my hair’s fixed into place before she sprays enough hairspray to make me cough. She does a good job with my make-up and I’m relieved it isn’t caked on in the way Natasha planned, although the fake nails are somehow still attached.

“Can we get these off?” I ask, quietly.

Mia shakes her head. “They’re ridiculous, but there’s no time. We’ll sort it out tomorrow.” She claps her hands together and I stuff a small cake in my mouth as she points to the dresses hanging on the closet door. “Which one?”

Neither, if I had my choice.

I don’t want this wedding, but even if I did, I wouldn’t pick either dress. One is a ballgown with too many layers and the bodice has too many sequins on it. The other is clean and modern, but it’ll cling and the thigh slit is revealing. Dangerously revealing given the circumstances.

I ask her which one she likes best and she tells me Henry will prefer the ballgown. I immediately pick the other dress and she shakes her head, retrieving a neatly packaged box from the closet. She thrusts it at me and leaves the room, making it clear I’ve got minutes to get into whatever the hell’s inside.

My fingers pull the ribbons apart and I put the lingerie on,ignoring my stomach-curdling nausea. I can’t bear looking at myself in the mirror and I slip into the wedding dress, hoping I’ll feel better when I’m less exposed. I don’t.

Mia appears from nowhere and fixes my dress in place, whispering how I look beautiful as she dresses herself. I nod and stare out the window, wishing I was somewhere else as she places jewelry on me and helps me into my shoes. She rambles on about the ceremony while I count the seconds down, passing the last few moments before my life ends.

Ryan knocks and enters, beaming as his eyes wander over me.

“You look stunning.”

“Let’s get this over with,” I say, hissing at him.

His eyes flash with an emotion more potent than annoyance and I ignore the fuck out of it, storming past him. He grabs my arm and I roll my eyes as I turn to face him, questioning what the fuck he’s playing at.

“It’s your wedding day, Ivy. Try looking happy,” he says, pushing a small bouquet into my hands. “Henry thinks they’re your favorites.”

Peonies are. These are stunning. They’re pure white and perfectly round. I risk a glance at Ryan and he smiles, presumably interpreting my silence as confirmation they’ve pleased me.

“Give him what he wants, right?”

Ryan’s features darken and Mia gasps, adjusting her dress as she distracts herself.

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