Page 9 of Bared Betrayal
We step outside on the wraparound porch of his grandparents’ large and lavish home. A double-story Victorian-style house, its walls a muted yellow with white trim, and a large fountain in the center of the circled driveway. A lack of money is not a problem they struggle with.
The lawn is no longer hidden beneath a blanket of snow, but the cold weather has stunted the growth of the grass, dotted white tips set like uneven snowflakes. Yet, it’s greener than the last time we were here. A sign that winter is fast coming to an end. Too fast.
A gentle breeze rustles through the trees, and I clutch my coat tighter to ward off the chill. “Sebastian, being on your phone the entire time does not qualify as you being here. You might as well not be.”
“I have urgent emails that need my attention, Kallie. Besides, you have my grandmother helping you with the wedding plans.”
“Helping?” My eyes widen. “She’s not helping, Sebastian. She’s taking over.”
“Oh, my God. Let’s not do this today. I have too much on my plate right now to—”
“That’s an easy problem to fix,” I interrupt.
“How?”
I lick my lips and tighten my hold on my jacket collar. “By going back to how things were…before.”
“Before what?” He takes a step closer. “Before I got the biggest break of my life? Before I finally found something that I’m good at? Something I achieved on my own? Something that wasn’t handed to me by my grandparents? This makes me happy, Kallie.”
“There was a time that I made you happy,” I say, a sense of longing lodged in my chest.
“Jesus, Kallie.” He rubs the back of his neck, shifting from one leg to another. “Okay, listen. I know this adjustment isn’t coming easy for you. I understand that. Just try.”
“I am trying.”
“Try harder,” he snaps, his voice razor-sharp.
This is the part I’ve come to hate. The part where it feels like I no longer know him. I don’t know this man whose words have become caustic, whose tone is laced with impatience whenever he talks to me. This man who suddenly covets fame more than he does me.
I square my shoulders, slipping my hands in my coat pockets, clenching my jaw as I bite back tears. “I am trying, Sebastian. The fact that I’m here sitting at a table and listening to your grandmother and a stranger plan my wedding is proof of that.”
“I know.” He inhales deeply, his breath an icy mist in the breeze. “I know you are.” He pulls my hands out of my pockets and clutches them tight. “My grandmother can be overbearing at times. She just wants this wedding to be perfect.”
“To whose standards?”
“Kallie, please. Just let her do this. Besides, you said it yourself. You don’t want to spend countless hours planning this wedding. So, let her do it.”
“I don’t want a big wedding, Sebastian. Your grandmother is turning this into the event of the year. Hiring a wedding planner. Picking venue options that can host three hundred people and more. Do we even know that many people?”
“Is everything okay out here?” Elenor’s voice interrupts our conversation as she steps out on the porch, her black low-heeled shoes clicking across the deck.
“Everything’s fine, Grandma,” Sebastian replies, but then I let go of his hands and turn to face her.
“I was just telling Sebastian—”
“Kallie,” he warns, but I ignore him.
”—how much I’d prefer a small wedding. Something more intimate. Maybe a ceremony on the beach in June.”Or July. Next year. Or even better, the year after that.
“Darling Kallie,” she starts, but her tone is more condescending than sincere, “save your intimate moments for the wedding night. This will be the soiree of the season. We must invite family, friends, and of course, all of Sebastian’s team and colleagues. The guest list is quite large, which is why The Drake Hotel would be perfect for the occasion. The media attention will be massive. Every detail must be perfect, and I’ll ensure it is.”
Her words end with the finality of a judge’s gavel. Elenor Stone is a formidable female on the best day. Cold eyes. Stern expression. And with all the wedding planning, she has turned into a bitch on wheels whose opinion is not an opinion at all. It’s law. Sebastian has always deferred to her, constantly trying to please and gain her approval. That’s why we hardly spend any time with her because I always manage to find a reason to avoid her. Unfortunately, there’s no getting out of planning this wedding with her. I have no one else to help me fight my battles in this wedding war. I don’t have any family left. I’m alone in the world.
Oh, God, what if the media finds out about my family? About why I have no one left.
Elenor walks up to Sebastian, hooking her hand in the crook of his elbow—a blatant display of ownership. That’s what he is to her, something she owns even though I’m the one wearing the diamond ring.
“Honey, tell your bride-to-be that she has nothing to worry about. I have it all under control. Oh, that reminds me,” she says with a smile as fake as entertainment news, “we need to get started on your wedding gown. Custom-made, of course. What day are you free, darling?”
