Page 1 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim

CHAPTER ONE

Isla

Houston, Texas

“Hold still, Miss Davenport.” The bridal assistant’s voice holds an edge of panic as she adjusts my veil for the third time. “We need to make sure it covers your face completely.”

Because heaven forbid anyone notice too soon that I’m not Margaux.

Sixteen hours.

That’s all it took for my entire world to implode. One moment I was curled up in my apartment with my cat and a stack of books after finally making it back from Margaux’s rehearsal dinner, and the next I was summoned to my parents’ home to discover my perfect older sister had fled in the night with her secret lover, leaving nothing but a hastily scrawled note and a wedding that couldn’t be canceled.

Now I’m standing in front of a mirror, not recognizing the woman staring back.

My eyes are wide and scared, my hair is in a fancy updo, and I’m frozen with a cold combination of fear and panic.

“Your sister is a damn coward.” My father’s voice is icy with fury. “Now you’ll do your duty to our family.”

As if I have any choice at all.

“And if you let me down…”

His threat hangs in the air.

“You’ll do what?”I want to challenge. But I don’t. My father is a powerful judge, and anyone who crosses him pays a terrible price.

Even though I’m his daughter, he won’t hesitate to destroy me.

Margaux and I are pawns in his power games, nothing more. We’ve been trotted out at every photo op—Christmas and election cycles most especially. Both of us were debutants, as fitting one of the oldest and most respected names in Houston society.

Despite the fact we were underage, we were pictured with aging billionaires on a luxury yacht in Galveston each Mardi Gras. And in every image, we were smiling perfectly, sometimes in ballgowns so low-cut that those supposed gentlemen could see our belly buttons.

Part of me doesn’t blame Margaux for fleeing, and I wish I had half her courage.

Her intended groom—Dorian Vale—is an awful human being.

When our father first announced that his oldest would be marrying the man, we’d hidden in her room and looked him up onScandalicious,our favorite online gossip site.

There was story after story about his womanizing and speculation about his business deals.

And the man he’s always pictured with? Brennan West. He’s an actual criminal, with a rap sheet a mile long. But that didn’t seem to stop the pair from hanging out, smiling on either side of their newest conquest.

“Are you listening, girl?”

I grind my back teeth together. “Yes, Father.”

The bottom of the satin gown is still pooled around my feet in an uncooperative heap as the seamstress yanks at the excess fabric, her mouth set in a tight line. My arms ache from holding still for so long while another woman kneels beside me. She sticks one more pin in the bodice—and me—as she desperately attempts to make the dress fit a body it wasn’t designed for.

Because this isn’t my dress. This isn’t my wedding. And Dorian Vale was never supposed to be my groom.

The lace sleeves sag at my shoulders, the neckline dipping dangerously low, a stark contrast to the way the fitted waist hangs loose around my ribs. Margaux has always been a little more voluptuous than me.

I, on the other hand, have very few curves, and my mother has always encouraged me to dress in a way that tries to disguise my lack of feminine assets.

With a sigh, the seamstress lets out a sharp breath, gaze flicking up toward my mother in silent disapproval.

“You look beautiful.” My mother comes in closer, the false cheer in her voice grating against my nerves. “Doesn’t she, darling?”