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“Leighton didn’t leave because she wanted to.”
Elias shakes his head. “She probably doesn’t think she has a choice.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
LEIGHTON
Ican’t remember the last time Jason was home during the week. In fact, I don’t think he’s worked from home a day in his life. And yet this week he hasn’t left once.
He also hasn’t spoken to me.
We’ve been in complete silence since my parents left on Sunday, and I can’t see that changing anytime soon because there’s certainly nothing I have to say to him.
I glance over at his office door and sigh. Usually when he has to do anything work related he’ll do so with the door closed unless he thinks I’m not around, but that door hasn’t closed once, which just confirms he’s keeping an eye on me.
The housewares magazine in my hands is just another thing to make me look busy while he’s home. My mother has been harassing me about setting up our gift registry for the wedding we still haven’t set a date for, but they’re getting impatient, and so is Jason’s father. I’m not sure what benefit our parents get from us marrying, or if it’s purely from a social standpoint, but the longer we put it off, the more I say I want more time to make sure everything is perfect, the more they hassle us.
Eventually it will wear me down. My parents have gotten very good at that over the years. Bullying me until I agree to whatever they want. Poking and prodding until I can’t possibly deny whatever they’re asking of me. And this will be no different.
I touch my cheek gently and sigh. The bruising is going down and my mother was right, I’ll be able to cover it with some well-placed concealer tonight when we go to the charity event Jason’s father is throwing for some organization he doesn’t actually believe in.
How do I know that?
Because last year when I graduated from college and it was emphatically decided for me that I wouldn’t be going into paid work in data science like I spent four years studying toward, I asked if I could work at his foundation a few days a week to get out of the house and to help people.
I made the mistake of bringing it up in front of my parents and Jason, and the lot of them laughed.
“You’re above that,” they told me through their amusement.
I dropped it, just like I did everything else they told me wasn’t worth my time, but my need to help people has always been strong. I’m painfully aware of how privileged I was growing up, even with parents who cared more about who I married than my happiness. I never wanted for anything. I never had to go hungry or miss out on field trips. I had a trust fund to pay for my Ivy League schooling, and I lived in a house with staff who did anything I asked.
And all I ever wanted to do was help the people who weren’t born into a life like mine.
I need to start getting ready soon, but the thought of Jason touching me makes my skin crawl. He hasn’t so much as reached for me since he changed me after knocking me out, and it’s a good thing because I’m not confident about how I would react.
The phone beside me buzzes on the couch cushion, and I let out a breath when I see my mother’s name flashing. Of course.
“Hi, Mum,” I say, but my voice is flat. Not that I think she’ll notice.
“Hello, dear. I was just calling to see how you’re feeling and making sure you’re up for the event tonight.”
Ah yes, of course she would phrase it like I was sick. Not like my fiancé hit me, and not only were she and my father okay with that, they discussed how they could cover it up. “I’ll be fine for the gala,” I tell her as I flick through a few pages of the magazine. We already have a house full of appliances and housewares that I picked out when we moved in, but apparently I have to choose all over again.
“Are you sure? I’m sure Jason could find someone else to go with him if you’re not up to it.” If the bruising hasn’t gone down enough to hide.
“No, Mother. I’m fine to go,” I insist. I usually hate going to these things with him. He always holds onto me all night, introducing me to people I have no interest in meeting, and talking about how investment banking is going to boom over the next decade.
We go to one of these things at least once a month, and each one wears on me more than the last. Perhaps it would be different if the people who attended were genuinely concerned about whatever cause they’re supporting, but they aren’t. They just care about eating a three-course meal, drinking at the open bar, and bragging to their friends about whatever business deal they’ve made that week.
“If you’re sure.” Her voice seems hesitant, but I don’t allow myself to read into it. I’ve disappointed her from birth, so whatever I’ve done that she’s upset with now is really of very little consequence to me. “Do you have a dress you can wear? I know you haven’t been able to get out of the house this week.”
I barely swallow the urge to call her out, but I force my words to remain even and civil. “I have plenty of dresses.”
“Just make sure you don’t wear the red one you wore last year to the Smith’s Christmas party. You looked a little…plump for it.”
I roll my eyes and flick them to the clock on the wall. “I won’t wear that one, mother. I better get going so I can start getting ready.”
“Oh yes, of course. I’ll see you tonight. Say hi to Jason for me.”
