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Her family thinks they’re in control, but no matter how much negotiating and bartering for favors they do, at the end of the day, all they have is a show pony with a pretty dowry. Whoever Penelope marries will be the one in control of the businesses, holdings, and ultimately the purse strings. All Penelope is is a pretty virgin to showboat the whole fucking spectacle.
I hate everything about the entire fucking situation. I hate that she shows up and smiles and bats her eyelashes like she’s a prize to be won. How the fuck can she live with herself knowing that her parents are happy and willing to offer her up on a fucking platter to whoever offers them the best price? It makes me sick.
The worst thing is that my dad is eating this shit up like fucking caviar. He wants the power, the money, and the prestige that come with Penelope’s untouched cunt. Hell, he’d marry her himself if he could.
Turning to look, I unapologetically run my eyes over her. Something’s off tonight, but I can’t quite place what it is. Normally, she doesn’t shut up; her superior, waspy voice grating against my nerves. But tonight, she’s barely said ten words total, and every time I’ve glanced her way, her eyes have been downcast, like she’s afraid or confused or something.
Since I spotted her sneaking out of the darkroom the other day, I’ve found myself looking for her around every darkened corner, but every time I’ve seen her, she’s been holding court with her money-hungry minions. For a while, I wondered if I’d imagined the girl who hid behind her hair and curled in on herself to appear smaller and inconspicuous, but I know what I saw.
Tonight has only confused me further. Penelope is dressed like she usually is, in a perfectly modest dress that’s intended to remind everyone just how innocent she is, even while it clings to her tits and accentuates her long, toned legs. Yet her entire demeanor is much more like the Penelope I watched trying to hide in plain sight than the wannabe queen bee, who demands everyone’s attention.
Even the way she’s holding herself is different. Instead of daring everyone to look at her, desire her, and covet her, the girl next to me is uncomfortable, shy almost, and it’s confusing my dick.
Normally my cock stays flaccid and completely uninterested in Penelope Rhodes. Lacy fucking dresses, overly-done makeup, and perfectly straight hair do nothing for me. But tonight, for some reason, her nervousness and discomfort are turning me on.
The urge to push her, to tease her a little and see what happens, is so potent that it’s almost outweighing my disgust for her. Lifting my cigarette to my lips, I inhale deeply, letting the toxic smoke fill my lungs.
Turning, I exhale and blow a cloud of smoke into her face. It’s an asshole move, and I wait for her to react. I’ve seen the look of disgust on her face when she has to walk past the kids smoking on the steps outside of school. There’s no way she’ll just sit here and let me coat her prissy designer dress in smoke and ash and not say anything. But the only outward sign of her discomfort is her eyes widening a little.
Blinking, I look away, then back to her again. I’ve been forced to endure Penelope for the past three years. For the most part, I do my best to avoid her as much as possible, but I still know her because the Winslow name is on her great-grandfather’s fucking list. So why tonight does she seem both familiar and yet oddly different at the same time?
I’ve never really taken the time to study Penelope too closely. She’s beautiful of course, but she’s also calculating, cold, and fake. The moment her inheritance was made public and the circus rolled into town touting her as the main attraction, she became abhorrent to me, and since then, instead of looking at her, I’ve put every effort into pretending she doesn’t exist.
Not that my disinterest has stopped her from shamelessly pursuing me. Much like her mother, Penelope has been trained to be an unstoppable cock tease. Everyone knows that one of the terms of her inheritance is that she has to stay a virgin until she’s married. But even though she has no intention of fucking anyone, she still grinds herself over her potential suitors, leaving a trail of blue balls in her wake.
But tonight, she’s like an entirely different person. We’re alone, something that has never happened before. When our parents pushed us out of the door to take a walk, I figured Penelope had a plan to seduce me, or maybe just to try to get me to fuck her so I’d have no choice but to marry her. But whatever this new angle is, I don’t get it.
Glancing over, I find her looking back at me, swallowing nervously, and anxiously picking at the skin above her thumbnail. Nothing about the way she’s behaving makes any sense. This girl revels in her status, she loves being the center of attention, the untouched Venus in the clam shell, so this must all be an act.
A dark, bitter laugh falls from my lips as I take another drag on my cigarette, then drop it to the floor and stub it out with the toe of my shoe. Slowly shaking my head, I rise from the bench and turn back in the direction of the ugly white sitting room where my father and Penelope’s parents are waiting for us.
My dad may have silently demanded I participate in this “evening stroll” façade, but I can’t tolerate another moment with her. I know he’s going to be pissed that I’ve ditched her so quickly, but I’d rather deal with his tantrum later than drag this farce out for another moment.
No amount of money in the world is worth tying myself to Penelope fucking Rhodes, and he needs to understand that no matter how much pressure he puts on me, I’m never going to marry her.
Without looking back to check she’s following, I stride forward, walking fast enough that I know she’s going to struggle to keep up with me in her ridiculous shoes. We’ve been out here for twenty minutes now, and she still hasn’t uttered a word. The silence is driving me insane. Did her mother coach her on how to behave tonight? Did she tell her to act like a nervous little mouse, hoping I’ll become her big, bad, blue blood protector?
This is exactly what I hate about this girl. Right now, she’s meek and shy, but I’ve seen her be bold and seductive and then ten seconds later, watch her be submissive and weak, only to move onto her next target and be loud and flirtatious. She’s a chameleon, a skilled fucking actress, but at the end of the day, it’s all fake.
Stopping, I spin around to face her. “Your mom gave you the wrong page from the playbook tonight,” I sneer, closing the distance between us until she has to tip her head back to look at me. “Virgins don’t do anything for me. I like a girl who knows how to bend over and spread her ass so I can fuck her hard and deep. I like a girl who drops to her knees and begs me to fuck her mouth and cover her face in my cum.”
A smile curves at the corner of my lips as I watch her eyes widen and her lips part. My dick twitches in my pants, and I reach down and palm myself through the fabric. “But color me intrigued, sweetheart, because apparently those scared little doe eyes seem to be working. My dick never even twitches when you do your whore for sale act, but this…” I run my thumb along her jaw. “This scared rabbit thing’s really got me going.”
Reaching out, I toy with a strand of her blonde hair, twisting it around my finger and pulling until a tiny whimper falls from her parted lips.
“I always knew you were a good actress, but this…fuck, this is impressive. I’d almost believe you were a completely different person,” I scoff, vitriol lacing my words. “But if you want to lock me in as your fiancé before graduation, I’m going to need more than silence and that hunted-prey look. I need to know exactly how much of a dirty slut wife you’d be for me. If mommy dearest coached you on how to snag me, did she tell you what else good little whores have to do? How about a show to start off with?” I taunt, not even trying to hide the disgust in my voice. “We can’t have that untouched cunt of yours being anything but perfect and intact at your annual check-up, now can we? So why don’t you lift up that prissy bullshit dress and show me what I’d be getting?”
Her eyes widen, and her skin pales, but I don’t stop. “Do it, Penelope. Pull your panties to the side and spread your cunt open. Show me what you have that would make marrying you worth it.”
5
IZABELLA
With each hate-filled, disgusting word that slips from his mouth, I react more and more viscerally until I’m trembling, my throat so thick with emotion I can barely swallow past it.
He hates me.
Not me, I remind myself. He has no idea who I am, but he hates my sister, and clearly, he hates this money-fueled, nightmare situation even more.
