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"Imogen, you’re late!" She snaps. Ophelia gives me an apologetic shrug but continues on to the party to mingle like they’re supposed to.
Gripping my wrist, my mother drags me through the house like she owns the place. I’ve never been here before, but she seems awfully comfortable. Finding a small bathroom near the kitchen, she shoves me into it, closing the door behind her.
Fussing with my hair, wringing her wrists over the fit of my dress, I do my best to pull on my mask and smile, even if I don’t feel like it. Even if every day with Dante, especially after last night, wearing it becomes more of a chore. It’s easy to slip on, sure, but I don’t want to. Not anymore.
"Mother, it’s fine," I placate, but she’s still tugging at my hair.
"Now, Stevens graciously offered their home for the party, and as their betrothed, that means you’re hosting. Try to remember everything you’ve been taught, dear. I know you’ve got it in you somewhere, just… smile, look pretty. Be docile. After all, they are showing off their lovely future bride, so stay glued to their sides. Never talk back, never interrupt them when they're speaking, and never question them in front of others. They’re your new alphas. You must treat them with the same respect you’ve shown your father all these years. Understood?"
My stomach feels queasy, and I’m suddenly grateful she’s retying my bow and tugging at my hair painfully. It helps draw the attention away from her words.
She doesn’t wait for a response, stepping back when she’s done. "There. Lovely. And thank you for wearing this dress. It’ll hide that extra weight you’ve gained. I’ve already contacted the seamstress about your wedding dress. She’s building in a corset as well, that should help."
With her commentary on my body, her dismissal of any feelings I might have, the way she treats me like a living doll, it’s all I can take not to scream.
"I wasn’t aware you’d chosen a wedding dress for me," I say, painting on my fake smile, but it’s a little less soft and a little more sarcastic.
She raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Turning on her heels, she spins and leaves the bathroom, but not before giving me one more reminder that obedience is my only job this evening and that all great women are obedient.
My teeth grind so hard I fear I may crack a tooth, but fortunately, her attention is elsewhere by the time we make our way toward the party guests.
Pausing at their grand dining hall entrance, I take in all the glittering opulence. It’s a gorgeous space, tastefully decorated. More lovely than I’d expected after knowing Stevens, with potted trees and natural light, a nice contrast to the dark mahogany furniture and crystal lamps.
And it means nothing. It’s just another pretty picture with nothing of value beneath.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to primp and preen." A deep voice startles me, and I look up while Kenneth’s hand snakes around my waist.
I suck in a breath, and it takes every ounce of effort to school my expression and not cringe away from his touch. I’m doing this for all the omegas, I remind myself. So he can’t hurt anyone else.
His brows lift, waiting for my response, and when I have my emotions locked back up in a box, I smile softly and tilt my head down.
"I hope I’m to your approval," I say, the words tasting like rotten ash.
"You're a vision." He leans down and kisses my cheek, and my nails dig into my palms in response. "And I must say… I’m sure it’s not to your mother's approval, but I have noticed your figure’s filled out a bit since we met."
I open my mouth to defend myself, but he cuts me off. "I actually quite like it." Then he winks, and his hand leaves my waist, slipping down to give my butt a small squeeze.
"There you are!" Ophelia shouts dramatically, coming to my rescue. Her eyes narrow on Kenneth’s hand, which slips back around my waist.
"You don’t mind if I borrow Imogen, do you?" She asks Kenneth, but pulls me away before he can answer. His face is thunderous, but it’s directed at Ophelia, not me. Fortunately, given the company, he swallows his anger, turning a genial smile on Sully and Asher as they shake hands.
The guys dive into politics, and Saul and Jonathan join, so I’m relieved when Ophelia drags me halfway across the room. We pass my fathers, who barely spare me a glance. It stings, but it's no different from any other party, right? They've always acted like this. The only time they spoke to me in public was when they were trying to set me up with a pack. Now, there's no need for the pretense.
"Damn, I didn’t think we’d need to bail you out that fast. What’s it been, ten minutes?"
"I’m sorry, Ophelia. I sort of froze. He grabbed my bum, and it surprised me."
"Bum!" Ophelia cackles. "You’re adorable. Don’t apologize. I knew we’d need to run interference, but I didn’t think he’d grope your ass as soon as he saw you."
I snort. "Apparently, he’s quite fond of my body getting thicker."
"Don’t you love when people talk about your body like it’s up for discussion?"
We both shake our heads in commiseration. Snagging two champagne glasses from a passing server, she threads her arm through mine, walking me around the room until we’re near a small fireplace, away from other party guests.
"Any clue where the office is?" She asks, hiding her mouth behind the glass.
I shake my head once.
