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“We’ll leave you to greet the rest of your guests,” Mrs. Appleby says with a warm smile.
“I’ll call you,” Henry tells me with a wink before offering his arm to his mom and walking back into the fray.
“What just happened?” I ask my sister.
“You just got asked out.” She laughs.
Before I have a chance to reply, more people approach, and we’re suddenly surrounded. Some people commiserate the loss of the money, and some applaud my decision to walk away from it. Some sneer and some pry; one of my ex-potential suitors even calls me an idiot for losing a fortune, but more people than I would ever expect denounce my great-grandfather’s outdated wishes and commend me for taking a stand.
“I’m sorry, I have no idea which one of you is which,” Geoffrey Bancroft slurs as he leers at us, his eyes swinging from me to Izzy and back again.
Inwardly cringing, I try to force my face into a neutral expression as I take in the man swaying drunkenly in front of me. If my parents had gotten their way, I’d be married to him by now and probably pregnant with his little ginger babies. Geoffrey is fifteen years older than me, with a visible pooch, receding hairline, a desire for very young male prostitutes, and the ability to make me feel dirty just from the way he’s looking at me.
“Geoffrey, how are you?” I ask as politely as I can muster.
Taking one last leering look at Izzy, he turns to me. “Oh yes, you’re the one,” he sneers, sighing audibly. Raising one eyebrow, he looks me up and down, then frowns. “You’re not as interesting when you don’t come with billions.” He laughs, like he said something funny, but then sobers when neither Izzy nor I laugh with him. “I’ll still take you, if the twin comes too, I’m sure we could have some fun,” he offers, his disgusting lips twisting up into a salacious grin.
“Fuck off, Geoffrey,” I hiss, dragging Izzy with me as I turn away from the repulsive asshole. My escape is cut short when I’m greeted by the hate-filled eyes of our parents standing right in front of us.
“Mom, Dad,” Izzy says coolly. “I’m glad you could make it. How was Marrakesh?”
“What is the meaning of all this?” Dad snaps.
“Oh, we thought a party would be fun,” she retorts, a brittle smile plastered on her face. “Don’t you agree?”
“Flaunting your stupidity and begging the families of the sons you should have had your pick of to still consider you. I think that screams of desperation, dear,” Mom says, her narrowed gaze fixed firmly on me.
“I’m not looking for a husband,” I say.
“Thank goodness, with the amount of weight you’ve gained, you’d never find one anyway. Your sister always could eat whatever she wanted and never gain a pound, unlike you.” Her lip curls as she runs her eyes over my dress that’s the exact same size as my sister’s. “Yet another thing she was better at, if only she’d been born first,” Mom sneers.
“Trudy, Barnaby, a pleasure as always,” Gulliver growls, his voice like granite as he appears at Izzy’s side, immediately pulling her into his chest.
“Gulliver, it looks like you picked the right sister after all,” Dad says with a laugh, glancing a look in my direction and scoffing before dismissing me and looking to Gulliver once again.
“Do you have a yacht, Barnaby?” Gulliver asks.
“Of course,” my dad replies.
“Ever thought of sailing the Caribbean? I’ve heard there are a few great spots that yachts sink in all the time over there. Let me recommend a few.” He smiles coldly. “Girls, it’s time.” Turning Izzy away from our parents, he places a hand on my arm and guides us both away.
Marching across the room, we don’t stop till we’re at the side of the stage where a furious-looking Hawthorn is waiting with Kip and Davis.
“What’s the matter?” I ask him.
“Come here,” he orders.
The moment I step close enough, he grabs me, dragging me into his tense body. “You’re mine,” he growls, claiming my lips in a punishing kiss.
The kiss is rough and filled with a possessive energy that pours from him in waves. “Come on, I need every fucking asshole in the room to know you belong to me,” he snarls, pulling away from my mouth and hauling me up the steps as the others silently follow behind us.
One by one, we step out onto the raised platform that’s acting as a stage for the jazz band that’s playing soft background music. Kip moves to the waiting ice bucket and opens the bottle of champagne, quickly filling six glasses and handing one to each of us.
The music slowly ends, and the singer steps out of the way to allow Gulliver to approach the mic. Stepping forward, he lifts a knife and taps it against his glass to garner everyone’s attention. We’ve already discussed how this is going to play out, so the five of us move to our places: Kip on Gulliver’s right, Izzy next to her fiancé, me next to her, Hawthorn on my left, and Davis on his left.
United, a team.
“Ladies and gentlemen, first, we’d like to thank you all for being here tonight,” Gulliver says. “We actually have a few reasons for throwing this little party. As I’m sure you’re all aware by now, I’ve been lucky enough to have met the love of my life, my beautiful fiancée, Izabella,” he says, pulling Izzy into his arms and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
