Page 10 of The Devil's Pawn

“Tell Dad I’m ready.”

Mom presses her fingertips to her lips, blows me a kiss, then goes outside to get Dad. He returns with her, and when he sees me for the first time, he freezes on the spot.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful, Scott?” Mom prompts when he doesn't say a word.

“Yes, beautiful.” His voice is husky and broken, and for a few seconds, I pretend this isn’t an arranged marriage, and that the man waiting for me at the chapel is my soul mate.

“Shall we go?” Dad sticks out his arm. “We don’t want to keep Alexander waiting.”

And just like that, reality smashes my illusion to smithereens.

“No,” I murmur. “We wouldn’t want to do that.”

My sarcasm is lost on Dad. He beams at me, ushers Mom, Maisie, and Briony from the room, then leads me into the hallway.

The chapel is on the Oakleigh estate, but it’s far enough away from the main house that there are two cars waitingoutside the front entrance to drive us there. Mom gets in the one in front, and it drives away. Dad and I get into the second one. As the door closes with a thud, my heart thuds, too.

It’s not forever. It’s not forever.

Stick to the plan.

Dad squeezes my hand, and I respond with a wavering smile. Five minutes later, the car pulls up outside the chapel. It’s the first time I’ve seen it, and it’s nothing like I imagined. I’d pictured a quaint little place that might seat twenty or thirty people.

I estimate five hundred could fit in here and still leave room for more.

Swallowing, I wait for Dad to help me out of the car. God, I wish Emma was here supporting me. If we’d been given more notice, she might have been able to make it, but she’s already started her new job working for a local paper in Bakersfield. Asking for time off wouldn’t exactly endear her to her new boss. Same with my other friends. No one could make it with only five days’ notice.

My chest pangs. I should be working for Zenith now, excited to throw myself into my fledgling career. Especially as they’d told me they were going to assign me to the project team working to design and build a prototype low-cost, sustainable village in Malawi. One that, if successful, could be replicated throughout Africa. To be a part of something that aims to make the world a better place is a dream come true.

Wasa dream come true, until Alexander De Vil came for me.

I’m alone here. All alone. And when Mom and Dad return to California, my isolation will be complete. Somehow, I have to make friends. I cannot spend the time I’m herewithout a circle of girlfriends to keep me company. Perhaps Saskia can introduce me to some of her friends. Either way, the thought of the next three months on this vast estate with no one but myself and, God help me, Alexander for company fills me with horror.

“Ready?” Dad asks as we approach the entrance.

I set the melancholic feelings aside and force a smile for my father’s benefit. “Yes.”

The music strikes up as we enter. Rows upon rows of strangers twist in their seats, craning their necks to get a look at the future Mrs. Alexander De Vil. The place is packed, and my guess of five hundred was a vast underestimation. There must be seven or eight hundred people here at least.

As I keep in time with Dad’s steps, I can’t help wondering if they all know this is a sham. I want to scream it from the rooftops, especially when people smile at me as if they know me, as if this is the best day of my life, when the truth is, it’s the worst.

My gaze falls on Alexander first and then Nicholas standing beside him as his best man. Both men are dressed in dark blue morning suits—a British tradition, I’m told—the coat tails hanging down to the backs of their knees.

Nicholas turns toward me, but Alexander continues to face away, his posture rigid as if his spine were made of steel. Nicholas nudges his brother, and his lips move, although I can’t make out what he’s saying. Whatever it is, it doesn’t change Alexander’s position in front of the altar.

Despite my bravado at our previous meetings, my knees knock as I cling to Dad’s arm, the attention of all these people making me more uncomfortable than I’ve ever been in my life.

Dad pats my hand as we approach, then leaves mestanding beside Alexander, and takes a step back. I risk a glance up at my future husband, but he doesn’t afford me the same courtesy. His eyes are facing forward, and his hands are loose by his sides.

“You look… nice.” He mutters the words out of the corner of his mouth, and at first, I’m not even sure it’s him who’s spoke.

“How would you know?” I reply in a voice low enough that only he’ll hear me. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”

He looks at me then, and I wait for him to show some kind of emotion. I’d even take annoyance, irritation, or rage. Anything would be better than what he gives me: indifference.

“I have eyes everywhere. You’d do well to remember that.”

Facing forward once more, he nods at the minister, who takes his cue and begins his spiel.

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