Page 1 of It Will Always Be You
Chapter 1
I’m going to die tonight.
The thought ricochets through me, beating against my skull like a drum as I go through the motions of getting ready. A coat of mascara and a dusting of blush mixed in with a pinch of trepidation. A glance at the clock ticking down the seconds to my funeral.
My childhood bedroom feels like a cage, and I’m the animal seconds away from turning feral as I pace the length of it. The dress I’ve been instructed to wear tonight—a red scrap of fabric with a plunging neckline—mocks me from where it hangs on my wardrobe door. The irony that, only a handful of weeks ago, wearing something so revealing would be rewarded by a date with Father’s belt isn’t lost on me.
I don’t even know why I’m wasting time pacing. Actually, that’s a lie. It’s because if I sit still, my thoughts will catch up to me, and I’m not ready to deal with them. Soon, it won’t matter if I’m ready or not.
I yank my shirt over my head, slide off my knee length skirt, and then remove my bra before I slip on the dress better suited for a night on the town than a family dinner. But what Angus wants, Angus gets.Screw questions or social norms. In this case, what he wants is to see what he’s buying, which my parents were only too happy to facilitate. Tonight is one big façade, and it simultaneously makes me sick to my stomach and pisses me off beyond measure that they could do this to their own daughter.
“Helen, hurry up. Angus is waiting for us,” Mother tuts from my open doorway, clear disapproval and distaste making her features pinched—features so similar to mine, it makes me wonder why she can’t place herself in my shoes. Is it sheer unwillingness to acknowledge her wrongdoing? Or have the pills she thinks we don’t see her popping altered her brain chemistry beyond repair?
“Coming, Mother,” I tell her, taking one last look in the mirror as I steel myself for what lies ahead. The girl looking at me looks far from excited, and I can’t say I blame her. Forcing a fake smile onto my face, I fiddle with the hemline of my dress and brace myself to sit through one final charade.
Months of planning has gone into tonight, and I’ll be damned if anything will stop me from escaping the death sentence my parents have laid at my feet. Because make no mistake: letting Angus Graham dub me wife number five and giving him complete control over my life, my body, and everything in between feels like a death sentence.
It shouldn’t cut me so deeply that they would do this to their barely legal daughter. Somewhere along the way, between being handed off to nannies and then tasked with raising my younger siblings, I came to the bitter understanding that my parents are far from the loving kind. Raised voices and things breaking were a far more common occurrence than loving comments and family meals, which had me thankful we were shipped off to boarding school for months at a time. Still, this is a new low, even for them, that has me questioning everything. If they can sell me, what won’t they do to achieve their sick, twisted goals?
Are there any lines they won’t cross?
Anything they won’t let Angus demand?
I’m not about to stick around to find out, that’s for sure.
Taking a fortifying breath, I brace myself for the night ahead and make my way downstairs. Peter, my baby brother, Father’s pride and joy, stands in front of a mirror, frowning at that one strand of hair refusing to be slicked back, looking more concerned with his appearance than the obvious tension in the room. Typical. Mother and Father gather near the door, wearing matching expressions of frustration as they exchange heated words. It’s my younger sister who catches and keeps my attention, though.
She’s huddled in a corner, baby blue eyes clouded with fear as she wrings her hands in front of her and fidgets with her dress every couple of seconds, her fear bleeding from her pores like a physical entity. Any hesitation I had vanishes as we lock gazes. If I don’t do this, God knows what will await her. Tearing my gaze from her before I draw Father’s attention, I’m met with his assessing stare. He takes me in, from the fancy up-do I’d wrangled my wayward curls into, to the high heels I’d squeezed over my protesting feet. They’re already throbbing with pain, but I know better than to show weakness around him. For a breath, I think I might just pass his inspection, but then his eyes narrow, and his lip curls as he focuses in on my throat.
Shit.
“I thought I told you to remove that cheap piece of crap.” His voice is a low snarl that has Freya flinching and shrinking in on herself, even though his ire isn’t aimed at her. Instinctively, I reach up to touch the shell necklace I never take off. It’s the only reminder I have of better days, days when things were carefree, less life or death. It was a gift from a boy I’d spent one summer flirting with, and while the boy may be long gone, a part of me longs for the reminder of happier times.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I reach behind me to undo the clasp before handing it over. With a smirk, he curls his hand into a fist, shattering the delicate necklace just like he shattered my freedom.
“You insolent girl,” he snarls, spit flying into my face as he leans closer. “Tonight is the single most important night of your pathetic life, and you want to show up wearing this tacky thing? Are you tryingto insult Angus?” In a split second, his hand is flying towards me, and before I can duck, it lands across my cheek. The pain is instantaneous, and my eyes well with tears as I lock eyes with Freya. A bitter understanding passes between us; this is what it means to be a woman in this godforsaken Clan.
The sooner I die and set us both free from this curse, the better.
“Gary, we need to leave,” Mother interrupts him, taking a step forward as her eyes flick over my face. Annoyance flares to life as she purses her lips in distaste, as if the redness blooming on my cheek is my fault. I suppose, to her, it is. God forbid Father ever take responsibility for his actions.
“Control your children better in the future,” Father sneers at her before buttoning his jacket and charging out of the house, leaving us in his wake. Tonight is shaping up to be even worse than I anticipated.
Peter tosses a smirk at me over his shoulder as he follows Father like the good little soldier in training he is. The temptation to lash out at him is like fire in my veins, but as we cross the threshold out into the compound, the feeling of being watched has me biting my tongue and reaching out to grab Freya’s hand. At fifteen and the youngest daughter, she’s been pretty sheltered until recently. The only thing Mother and I ever saw eye to eye on was keeping her out of Angus’ sight, but apparently, that ship has sailed.
“Hel, what’s going to happen?” she whimpers, leaning into my side, looking up at me with wide eyes. I would do anything to reassure her, but I also swore to never lie to her. As I take in her pale features and the way her whole body trembles, it’s clear I need to settle her nerves before Angus lays eyes on her. Men like him prey on weaknesses, and I’ll be damned if I give him have any opportunity to so much as look at Freya.
“Nothing. It’s just dinner, right? Father has probably done something to earn favour. If we just keep our heads down, it’ll be over before we know it.” It’s not a complete lie, and hopefully, it’s enough to keep her calm while I work to stop this car crash in its tracks, or at leastshelter her from the fallout as much as possible.
“Pinky promise you’d tell me if you knew more?” Holding her pinkie out to me, I’m reminded just how young at heart she is. Living a sheltered life will do that to a girl, and her innocence is something I’m determined to preserve, no matter the cost. Crossing my fingers behind my back, I link pinkies with her, giving her a forced smile.
“Come along, girls. We don’t want to keep him waiting. Angus is a very busy man,” Mother calls, her perfect society wife smile painted on her face as she turns to look back at us. While her smile says one thing, the look she gives me — all tight-lipped rage and denial, coupled with the vein throbbing in her forehead, says another. I wonder if she would be so quick to look at me with barely concealed rage if she knew tonight was the last time she’d see me. Would she even care?
“Coming, Mother.” Painting an equally forced smile on my face, I quicken my pace, pulling Freya along with me. As we near the steps up to the main house, her palm grows damp in mine, her inhale sharp as the door opens to reveal the man of the hour.
Angus Graham has a reputation that precedes him, and rightly so.
Despite his best efforts to portray a welcoming aura, with his neatly styled hair, crisp, three-piece suit, and the wide grin stretched across his face, it’s all a dirty lie. This man is Satan, and everyone who has spent any amount of time with him knows it. The vast majority just chose not to challenge him, not after what happened to the last person who did.
