Page 38 of Vengeful Union

Her skin feels so warm and soft, making my heart speed up.

“I’ll show you that I mean it. That you can trust me. I’m not going to hurt you, and you’ll be free to go as soon as this is over. As soon as you and Bree are safe.”

Lara searches my face, and in the end, she seems satisfied because she nods.

“I thought I’d marry for love too,” I confess, wanting to tell her something real.

Lara’s eyes widen. “Yeah?”

I nod. “I knew that living here with my father, I’d be married off for some alliance he wanted to make. That’s part of the reasonI left. I wanted to have my own life, away from him. He infects everything within a thirty-mile radius.”

I let out a long sigh, and Lara moves her hand away gently.

I pull the bag of clothes and her wedding dress up onto the bed, and she makes a little surprised sound in the back of her throat.

“You got me all this? Is that... is that a wedding dress?”

“It is.” I stand up and clear my throat. Something like fear sticks in my throat.

Is it because of how soft Lara’s hand felt in mine? The way I can’t stop looking into her eyes?

“Let me know if it needs alterations.”

I push back the fear, the guilt, everything I’m feeling, and walk out of the room, downstairs to get dinner.

Kristina is putting the food out on the table, and I insist on helping her, bringing the gravy boat and placing it next to the casserole dish.

“Rory.” She smiles in a way that has the lines at the corners of her eyes deepen. “I haven’t seen you in years! Are you back home for a while?”

“For good,” I lie, wanting everyone to think I’m all-in on this marriage and this plan.

“That’s lovely.” She sets out wine glasses and a bottle of red and a bottle of white. “Your father will be thrilled.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, my head still spinning with what happened upstairs.

Why does my heart race when I touch Lara’s hand? Why does the idea of her sobbing in my bedroom make me feel so bad?

I guess I just feel guilty.

I sit through dinner with my father and Kristina before making Lara a plate.

“Your girl not feeling well?” Father asks, a smirk turning up one corner of his mouth.

I feel sick to my stomach.

“She’ll come around.”

Dad grins. “Atta boy.”

I stand up, hating that he’s proud of menow, after I’ve agreed to do this heinous thing.

“Can’t let the bride-to-be starve.” I fake a smile and take a wrapped plate and a glass of white wine in my hands.

At least with Lara here, I can use her as an excuse not to see my father all the time.

Chapter Thirteen

13

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