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16
GULLIVER
Ihonestly don’t know why I’m doing this. I should have told my dad the truth earlier. I should have told the Rhodeses the truth. I should have told this whole room full of people the truth, but I didn’t, and I’m not entirely sure why. The look on Penelope and her parents’ faces right now is priceless, but the triumph I should be feeling is overshadowed by the strange sensation that’s filling my stomach as I rub my thumb over the Winslow diamond that’s now sitting on Izzy’s finger.
This ring is a family heirloom, not a trinket to be trifled with. My dad never gave it to my mom even though she so desperately wanted it, yet here I am giving it to a complete stranger as part of a game. This ring is supposed to be for the one great love of my life. That’s why my dad never gave it to my mom despite them being married for fifteen years. He knew she wasn’t “the one,” and I think deep down she knew it too.
My dick’s hard beneath my suit pants, and reaching down, I discreetly adjust myself. This is all a lie, but that kiss, that fucking kiss, was submission and desire and lust and revenge all rolled into one, and it was singlehandedly the hottest sexual experience of my life so far, even though we’re both still fully dressed. Her wide, confused, betrayed eyes look up into mine, and my entire body starts to react. I lost my virginity at fourteen, and in the last four years, I’ve fucked, licked, used, and discarded more women than most men get in a lifetime, but none of them have ever made me react the way I do the moment I touch Izzy.
When she opened the bedroom door earlier, I almost pushed her back inside the room, unwilling to play this stupid game when I could be losing myself in my Little Ghost’s body. Her hair is almost white, a color that’s so stark and ethereal that when it’s straight like both Penelope and Izzy usually wear, it seems harsh. Tonight, it’s a mass of loose waves, and I want to tangle my fingers in it and drag her lips back to mine so I can taste her again.
Tomorrow, I’m going to fucking kill Fitzy for giving her the dress she’s wearing. It’s modest, fitted, but not overly tight, yet somehow the fact it hints at so much and reveals so little is sexier than I actually thought possible.
Cries of congratulations mixed with shock and confusion fill the room, but I’m drowning in her as she continues to stare at me with those strange violet irises that confess so much about her secrets and pain.
This is all a game, but somehow not, and as I turn to address the people I brought here to witness this, I don’t feel as triumphant as I should. Instead, I wonder how Izzy feels. Is part of her jubilant at being seen? Is she happy that I’ve forced her out of hiding and into the spotlight she was intended to thrive under?
“Congratulations, son,” Dad says, clapping me on the arm, before he pulls Izzy in for a one-arm hug because I refuse to let go of her hand.
“Thanks, Dad, and thanks for getting the ring for me. I appreciate it.”
“Of course,” Dad says as he steps back so the next person can move forward to congratulate us.
The incredulous looks of shock on my guests’ faces make me want to grin, but I hold back my amusement and instead turn all my smiles toward my angry and confused fiancée. She’s tense, her entire body taut. I’m still holding her hand firmly, my grip unyielding, while she digs her sharp, perfectly manicured fingernails into the back of my hand, trying to get me to release her.
Davis, his parents, and his younger sister all offer us congratulations, but when his family steps aside, he pulls me in for a tight hug. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks quietly.
“I have no fucking clue, but I know I’m not ready to stop,” I murmur so quietly that I know only he and I can hear.
Releasing me, he flashes me an amused smile, laughing lightly beneath his breath. “Well, congratulations. Engaged at eighteen, how very old money of you both,” he says, his tone playful as he leans in and presses a kiss to Izabella’s cheek.
Barnaby and Trudy Rhodes step up to us next, and I instinctively pull Izzy into my arms and press a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.
“Gulliver, would you like to explain what the meaning of all this is?” Barnaby hisses in a low voice, completely ignoring his daughter as he addresses me.
This is it. This is the moment I should tell the truth, but there’s something about the unnatural stillness that’s settled over the girl pressed into my side that stops me. She’s stiff, frozen beneath my arm, until a silent tremor ricochets through her shoulders.
These are her parents, but there’s no familiarity between them, in fact, the way she’s acting is almost like she’s scared. So instead of confessing to everything I’ve done in the last twelve hours or ensuring the Rhodeses understand that Izabella was just as surprised by all of this as they are, I double down, digging the hole I’ve created a little bit deeper.
“Barnaby, Trudy, I understand that today must have been a shock for you, but I’ve fallen head over heels for your daughter. Honestly, I’ve always hated the idea of marriage, but Izabella changed everything for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”
“But…Penelope,” Barnaby says, turning to look pointedly at Izzy’s twin, who’s preening a step behind him, batting her eyelids at me like I didn’t just slide a million-dollar diamond onto her sister’s finger.
“What about Penelope?” I ask, playing dumb and forcing him to spell out the bullshit I know he’s thinking.
“Penelope is the future of our family…she’s an heiress…s…” He trails off. “They’re twins,” he hisses, glancing at Penelope again, his brow furrowed. It couldn’t be more obvious if he’d said it aloud, but it’s clear he doesn’t understand why I’d even consider Izabella when Penelope is the twin that comes with a billion-dollar inheritance.
A disgusted laugh falls from my lips, and for the first time since I escorted her downstairs, I loosen my grip on Izzy’s hand and allow her to pull hers free of my hold. Stepping forward, I smile as I lean into Barnaby, so it looks like I’m having a cordial, private chat with my future father-in-law. “You, your wife, and your evil, poisonous daughter are a fucking disgrace. I’m standing here, holding hands with your daughter. The daughter I think you like to pretend doesn’t exist. She’s my fiancée, wearing the Winslow fucking diamond on her finger, and you’re still trying to pimp out your other kid to me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I’m still smiling pleasantly when I straighten and move back to Izzy’s side, reclaiming her hand. “Don’t you want to congratulate us, Barnaby?” I ask pointedly through gritted teeth, my voice laced with a steel-like tone that brooks no argument.
Clearing his throat, he glances to his wife, whose lips are pursed into an indignant scowl. “Of course. Congratulations,” he mutters, finally darting his eyes to Izzy, then immediately looking away like she’s nothing to him.
An instinctive need to protect the girl I am indisputably using crashes into me, and I pull her into my arms. Releasing her hand, I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her with her back pressed tightly into my chest. When Barnaby steps aside, Penelope and Trudy step forward, both of their faces showing matching anger and disgust, like the two ugly sisters from the story Cinderella.
“Izzy, sweetheart, I’m sure your sister and mom are just dying to see the ring,” I taunt sweetly.
When she doesn’t move, I run my fingers along her arm, sliding my palm under her limp hand and lifting it up, offering the huge ring adorning her finger up for her family to see. Caressing my thumb back and forth over her soft, creamy skin, I have to swallow a laugh as both mother and daughter’s eyes widen when they take in the perfectly clear Winslow diamond on the simple gold band that somehow fits Izzy perfectly, despite me not having it sized.
