Page 13 of Until She’s Mine
Lucian
I stop at a boutique flower shop on Madison Avenue on my way to the Blackwood estate and select two dozen of the deepest red roses, their petals dark as spilled blood. They are Mother’s favorite, and I always bring them to our monthly lunch.
The Blackwood estate looms before me as I pull into the circular driveway.
Today’s gathering will be small—just family, which means Mother, Father, Tobias, and me.
Evelyn is not invited. She’s not part of the family yet, despite the ring on her finger.
After the wedding, she’ll be expected to attend these lunches, to sit quietly and smile at the right moments, but for now, she’s spared the ordeal.
I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed by her absence.
The housekeeper, Marta, greets me at the door. “Mr. Lucian, they’re waiting for you in the dining room.”
I hand her the roses. “For Mother.”
She nods, disappearing to arrange them in Mother’s preferred crystal vase. The sitting room is bathed in soft afternoon light, and the mahogany furniture gleams with polish.
“Lucian, darling.” Mother’s smile brightens. She’s dressed in a dove-gray cashmere dress, pearls at her throat. “The roses are beautiful, as always.”
I lean down to kiss her cheek, breathing in her familiar perfume. “You look lovely, Mother.”
Father stands by the window, his posture rigid as he reviews something on his phone. He doesn’t look up when I enter, but his voice carries across the room. “The Windsor deposition went well. Their CEO folded faster than expected.”
“He was protecting assets he couldn’t afford to lose,” I reply, taking my usual seat across from Mother. “Men like him always have something to hide.”
“No business this afternoon,” Mother chides. “This is family time.”
Last year, Father had a stroke that left him temporarily paralyzed on one side.
Although he has mostly recovered, his health remains a constant concern.
Mother has taken it upon herself to enforce the rule of not discussing business during these lunches, though Father often finds ways to circumvent her efforts.
The problem is that we don’t have much else to discuss.
The Blackwood family operates like a corporation even during leisure hours, our conversations revolving around mergers, acquisitions, and the careful maintenance of our public image.
Personal matters are rarely broached, emotions kept locked away behind straight faces and polished smiles.
Tobias is the only member of the family who seems immune to this careful choreography. It’s not that he doesn’t try to fit in. He simply never succeeds . Perhaps that’s why Mother always favors him despite his obvious shortcomings.
My parents have always seen Tobias as the charming one, the son who could win hearts with a smile and a well-timed joke.
They’ve excused his failures as growing pains, his recklessness as passion.
I’ve never begrudged him their affection—it’s easier to be the reliable one, the one they turn to when charm isn’t enough.
“Where is Tobias?” I ask.
“He had a last-minute business trip,” Mother says, her smile tightening at the edges. “Something about securing a new client.”
Father’s jaw ticks. We all know Tobias’s ‘business trips’ are thinly veiled excuses for extended gambling weekends or rendezvous with whatever socialite has caught his attention. The fact that he’s missed another family obligation won’t go unnoticed.
“Where to this time?”
“Geneva with the Lockwoods, I believe,” Mother says. “But he should be back in a few days. We have wedding plans to finalize.”
A wedding that grows more improbable by the day. Father finally looks up from his phone. “Have you spoken to Evelyn recently?”
The question catches me off guard, though I don’t let it show. “Briefly. She’s been working on the Madonna restoration.”
“She looked unwell at the museum benefit last week,” Mother observes. “Pale. Distracted.”
I pour myself a glass of water, buying time. “The work is demanding. She’s dedicated to her craft.”
“Perhaps too dedicated,” Father says, settling into his chair. “A woman in her position should be focusing on more domestic preparations.”
Mother nods in agreement. “Marriage requires certain adjustments. Priorities must shift.”
They want Evelyn to become another ornament in the Blackwood collection—beautiful, silent, and utterly subservient.
“Evelyn’s career is important to her, and she’s exceptionally talented.”
“Of course,” Mother agrees quickly. “But after the wedding, she’ll have other responsibilities. Children, managing the household, and supporting Tobias’s career. The restoration work is lovely, but it’s hardly sustainable for a Blackwood wife.”
I clench my jaw and look down at my phone as it buzzes with a text from my investigator:
Evelyn is on her way to the Blackwood estate.
My heart lurches, but I set my phone down with deliberate calm. “She’s intelligent enough to balance both.”
Evelyn has avoided me since that night at The Vault. I’ve respected her space, though not without difficulty. Now, she’s coming here, to the estate, unannounced. My mind races with possibilities, but I keep my expression neutral, unwilling to betray my thoughts to my parents.
Seeing her today will be a pleasure and a challenge, given our audience. But maybe that’s exactly what I need: my parents growing accustomed to seeing us together. After all, she’ll soon join this family officially—not as Tobias’s wife, but as mine .
One thing is certain: my parents won’t dictate Evelyn’s future. She’s far too vibrant and brilliant to be reduced to another Blackwood trophy wife. I won’t let them clip her wings the way they’ve tried to clip mine.