Page 128 of Dr. Aster

“Well, whether you run away from this life or stick it out and deal with it, I’m not playing along. There’s nothing they can do or say to me. I’m serious as fuck about that.”

“You love your job?” he asked, eyeing me as if he knew the plan to get me back and under my parents’ thumbs.

“You know I do, and I love my freedom. Most of all, I love Mickie, the woman who’s probably going to dump my ass after all this shit tonight.”

“And that’s where they have you, brother,” he said. “That’s how they’ll bring you to your fucking knees and make you do what you were born to do.”

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit? I mean, come the fuck on,” I said, getting sick and tired of hearing these ridiculous fearful threats spill out of my brother’s mouth. “We aren’t the Rothschilds or the Kochs.”

“Exactly,” he answered. “And until the Aster family name hits like those names, our parents won’t stop climbing their way to the top.”

“Well, they’re going to need some conspiracy for people to give a fuck about our family.”

“And what better conspiracy than to use you and your job to make headlines? From California, all the way to Manhattan.”

I felt a sudden lump in my throat. I knew my family was next-level greedy for status, but I didn’t realize how desperate they were to achieve it. Using their children to further their agenda was bad enough, but using their kids to make headlines somehow? That was out of control.

I didn’t know what they were planning, but whatever it was, there was no way my parents would allow the family name to be tarnished. No way in hell.

Something was brewing, though. I could tell Mark was too fearful to run away from this marriage. He was just out here blowing off steam, having one last moment of feeling like he owned who he was before Pollyanna took full control of him tomorrow.

I felt sorry for the bastard. That woman was well on her way to break him mentally, and the brother I knew now would not be the same man in a year from now.

I wanted to have time to figure out how to save his ass from all this bullshit, but something told me my parents were hot on my heels to destroy the life I’d built for myself and take away the woman I loved.

I had to fight for myself, my life, and Mickie if things were about to go down the way Mark was trying to relay. I just didn’t know where the fight would be, and that’s what scared me.

Chapter Forty-Six

Mickie

I walked into the overstated, elegant room, which it seemed I had been assigned to stay in, just as I’d been assigned to sit at a table with John’s exes tonight, and everything looked quite different to me now.

I couldn’t kick these heels off or peel myself out of this fancy gown quickly enough. Luckily, the velvet boxes for all of my heirloom jewelry had been placed front and center on the dressing table because if they weren’t, I’d probably have chucked the damn things across the counter without a second thought.

Unlike Cinderella, I didn’t care if I was about to turn back into a broke maid, wearing only my rags and non-designer clothing. I planned to take a hot bath to soak off the expensive perfume the stylist had dabbed on me with care before leaving for dinner and wash away the insanity I’d been through.

I sat on the edge of the grand clawfoot bathtub and ran the hot water, adding just enough cold to prevent third-degree burns. I reached for the salts filled in a well-crafted glass container and sprinkled it in the water, whirling it through the rapidly filling tub. Once the bath was prepped to thaw out my body, I removed my undergarments, grabbed a fluffy robe, set it on the velvet chair next to the tub, and snatched my phone. I wanted to keep it close while I waited for John to call and notify me he was on his way to the room and hopefully say that his brother was doing better.

I wasn’t upset with John for this crazy night. I didn’t have high hopes for the evening, but I also didn’t expect to be treated like a homeless wedding crasher. I didn’t want to hold his family’s behavior against him; I knew this wasn’t who he was. At least, I didn’t think so.

Ring! Ring!

I snapped up from where I’d slid so comfortably into the silky bath water at the sound of my phone ringing.

I frowned. It wasn’t John; it was my sister.

“Hey Lydia,” I answered, confused she was calling. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered, and the happiness in her voice sent a soothing sensation throughout my entire being. “I heard you’re in Monaco?”

“Oh, yeah. I am. I’d love to say I was here on a beautiful vacation, but no.”

“I’m arriving there tomorrow,” she informed me. “I’m styling a runway model I’ve worked with a number of times. She’s attending some big-deal wedding.”

“Dear God,” I said. “Who hired you to style them?”

“You sound skeptical,” she chuckled. “But you know I do this for a living, right? She’s a friend of mine, Candace Anders. She’s the model formerly known as Candace Hamilton, but she got married last year. I styled her for her wedding. Do you know of her?”

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