Page 18 of Theo (Stone Brothers #6)

SIXTEEN

LACEY

J oan looked even harsher and more dragon-like if that was possible.

My stomach churned with hunger and nerves as I sat in one of the rooms of the Plunkett Estate.

I looked at the stylish mahogany desk where Joan sat to write what she called "correspondences.

" I had no idea what that meant, but I couldn't imagine the woman and her black soul sitting down to write a friendly, fun letter to a friend.

She didn't have an ounce of friendly or fun in her, and now, it seemed, her black soul had turned to ice as well.

I kept trying to avoid eye contact, but she had no problem staring at me as if her eyes were lasers and I was her target.

George Senior, on the other hand, sat almost noncommittally in his big leather chair as if this whole meeting was a bore and a waste of his precious time.

Harriet, one of the kitchen staff, a sweet woman who was always wearing a polite smile, carried in one of the many silver tea service trays.

A few of the canapés from the pre-wedding reception sat next to the cream and sugar.

The food was wilted and discolored and looked very unappetizing.

I assumed that Joan instructed Harriet to bring them in on the tray so I could see what my "little stunt," words she'd used several times, had done to her expensive catering menu.

Joan huffed in irritation as she picked up her phone and tapped her finger hard against the screen. Her diamond earrings clacked against the phone screen as she pressed it hastily to her ear. "George, we are waiting. Please join us in my study right away."

It would be me against the three of them.

Joan wouldn't even allow my parents to join the meeting, or ambush , which was probably a more accurate word for what was about to happen, hot honeyed tea and all.

While we waited, an icy, awkward silence surrounded us.

I fidgeted with the luxurious fabric of my dress.

It looked far worse for wear, but it still felt soft, like cream, as it moved through my fingertips.

The door opened, and while I should have been relieved that the meeting could now move forward, I realized I didn't have the nerve to look at George. Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed that his usual perfect posture, almost military-like movements, were sloppier.

"My god, George, are you drunk?" his mother asked sharply.

She shot a glare my direction to remind me that that was my fault.

"I hope none of the remaining guests saw you.

" Typical Joan. That would be her first concern.

There had been enough expensive food and booze flowing freely to keep some of the guests around.

Some had driven a good distance to be there, and others had planned to stay the weekend so stretching out their stay, wedding or not, wasn't a big ask.

I'd assured my parents that I would be fine, so they drove to their rental house to await word from me.

Mindy had gone with them. She looked properly shocked and anxious about the whole thing.

I'd somehow managed to get rid of the surge of anxiety that I felt when I climbed into the SUV.

I was sure it was a mix of things, but mostly, the ache in my chest overshadowed all my other emotions.

I was an idiot for starting up something with Theo.

I should never have texted him, but when I started having major, stress-inducing doubts about getting married, all I could think was that I wanted to talk to the one person who always knew how to make me feel better.

Deep down I had a feeling that Theo might show up or maybe I was hoping he would, but when I saw him, standing on the stairs, looking as incredible and heartbreaking as ever, I knew I wasn't going to marry George.

How do you get married to one person when you are madly in love with someone else?

I'd been in love with Theo forever, and that had never changed.

"Sit there," Joan said to George. She rarely spoke to him so sternly, but then her big social event of the year, perhaps the decade, had been destroyed, and her son had met the disaster with a bottle of booze.

I almost felt some admiration for George for doing exactly what us regular folk would do after getting left at the altar.

Sitting with the silent security crew for the ride back, I tried to picture all the unpleasant scenarios that waited for me at the house.

I half expected Joan to tear my dress and shove me to the ground the second I walked in the door, but then I realized she'd never do something so uncouth.

She'd pay someone to rip my dress and push me to the ground.

Instead, I was led by one of the staff to the study where I waited alone for twenty minutes.

A few times, I considered jumping out one of the windows and making a run for it, but Joan's threats about suing my parents and me for the wedding expenses had been all too real.

George dropped hard into a leather chair.

He stretched his legs out lazily and then turned to look directly at me for as long as he could keep his head and gaze straight.

He'd really guzzled something strong. I'd never seen him so drunk.

It wouldn't be great PR for a highly-respected surgeon to be seen stumbling drunk in public.

"Nice friends you've got," George said. His words were stretched long, and his eyelids looked heavy. "What kind of gutter did that guy crawl out of?"

I ignored him and took a deep breath. I'd been mentally readying my defense. "Joan, you planned this wedding. I never wanted this elaborate, showy event. I wanted a simple ceremony."

"Yes, in a barn or meadow with butterflies floating around. Like all the other country bumpkins." Her sarcastic tone was so caustic it made her mouth twist as if she was sucking on a bitter lemon.

"Whatever." I waved off her comment. "The point I'm making is that you decided to spend all that money. I never asked for any of it, and I'm certainly not going to pay you back."

Joan sat forward abruptly, and I noticed both Georges sat up a little straighter, although junior was having a tough time of it.

"Now you listen here, you little witch. You were never ever good enough for my son, but for some reason, he chose you.

I can only assume that you are well-versed in the sack because you always had that slutty aura about you.

And after I saw your friends"—she rolled her eyes in disgust—"let's just say all my intuition was right. "

I looked over at George to see if he'd consider coming to my defense. Not a word, though. Not surprising.

"I don't really care what you think about me," I told her.

"I assure you my intuition about you has always been spot on as well.

" I decided not to elaborate with insulting details mostly because I just wanted to leave.

I was visualizing a quick escape, an Uber ride to my parents' rental and then a long drive home with the people I loved, the people who made me feel safe and wanted.

Trayton sounded so dreamy now I couldn't believe that I'd badly wanted to leave it when I was a teenager.

"I think we should all just part ways and never speak again.

" It seemed like a perfectly logical conclusion to the whole mess, and George didn't argue. Joan, however, had her own plan.

Joan's mouth was pulled tight as she smoothed her skirt with her hands. "You will not humiliate my son by leaving him at the altar. You will go through with this marriage."

George finally snapped out of his drunken stupor. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Joan lifted her hand to silence him as if he was a small child. Something told me the high and mighty Dr. Plunkett was now wishing he'd gone easier on the bottle of hundred-year-old scotch.

"Hear me out, dearest." Joan turned her fiery gaze back to me.

"We will explain to everyone that it was just a case of bridal nerves, that you were overwhelmed by the long weekend and all the excitement.

Then the two of you will say your vows, we'll move the reception along quickly.

People will stay for the lobster and filet mignon. You will be married for two years?—"

I gasped. Both Georges stared at Joan as if she'd blown fire from her nostrils.

George Senior finally cleared his throat to speak up.

As far as I knew, it was all money from his side of the family, and Joan had married into the lavish lifestyle.

Still, she ran the household and made all the decisions.

George Senior was only interested in talking about stock portfolios and playing golf.

"Two years." A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled from my lips. "You expect me to go through with this marriage and then stay for two fucking years? Then what? Do you arrange for me to die in some kind of accident?"

Her penciled in brow lifted as if to say "shit, I hadn't thought of that.

" "In two years, we'll let society know that you have far too many mental health issues, and even though George tried to make it work, in the end, it was just too much for him.

He'll file for divorce and then thanks to the prenuptial agreement, you'll walk away with three hundred grand and the shirt on your back, and none of us will have to see or speak to you again.

In fact, during the two years, we will keep our social interactions minimal.

George will go to parties on his own making excuses for you, which will play perfectly into the?—"

"Into the Jane Eyre crazy wife in the attic scenario.

Right. Well, I've heard enough of your crazy plan.

" I stood up and looked over at George. He'd sobered up some and stared back at me with his signature expressionless face.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way, George, but I think we'll both be happier. "

"Mom is right," he said. "You've fucking humiliated me in front of everyone."

"Yes, she has." Joan smiled for the first time because her son was in agreement. She looked over at her husband, who seemed torn about the whole thing. "George, did you contact Roger Trundall, like I asked?"

"Yes, dear."

"Thank you." Joan looked at me, and I knew the venom had only started to flow.

"If you refuse to go through with the marriage and the two-year plan, then our lawyer is prepared to start legal proceedings to collect back the 1.

4 million dollars we spent on this wedding.

After meeting them, I'm sure your parents don't have a million dollars in their bank account. "

"No and that's a good fucking thing, especially when I see how millions of dollars turns people into vile monsters."

"Well, it's up to you then." Joan leaned casually forward and poured herself a cup of tea as if we'd just been chatting about the weather instead of how she planned to destroy my entire life.

"Either marry George and wait for the divorce or see your parents brought to financial ruin.

They'll be living in a trailer." She smiled wickedly as she blew on her tea. "Or maybe that's where they live now."

I turned to George. "Do you really think I would have ever been happy married to you and having this pit viper as my mother-in-law? You can blame her as much as your utter indifference to my feelings for the reason I walked out this morning."

"Well?" Joan asked, then sipped her tea, pinky lift and all.

It felt as if there were rocks in my stomach. I sat back down, utterly deflated. I looked at George for assistance, but he seemed already resigned to his mom's insane plan. He didn't want to face society as the man left at the altar.

"Why two years? What about two weeks?" I really wanted to suggest two days.

"After the trashy spectacle this morning, there is already far too much gossip about this marriage.

Two years gives it some weight, and by then, people will have forgotten all about this morning.

I have the minister on retainer." She looked me up and down and scrunched her nose.

"You look awful. I'll send up hair and makeup and have your dress pressed.

I expect you outside at the altar in an hour.

Call your parents, please. We need to make this look legitimate. "

I laughed. "That's hysterical."

Joan pointed a sharp red nail at me. "You will play the good, sweet and overjoyed bride, or I will make the next two years of your life so miserable you really will need to be wheeled off in a straitjacket."

"Too late. You've already excelled at the first threat, and right now, being wheeled off in a straitjacket sounds like a fucking honeymoon compared to the real thing." I hurried out of the study and raced up to my room where I promptly broke down in tears.