Page 16 of Walkoff Wedding

Elizabeth shakes my hand, leaning forward to air-kiss each of my cheeks. “Hello. Addie, you look ravishing, darling.” The haughty air of her words makes me cringe, but I keep the feeling to myself as I nod and then shake her husband’s hand before turning and focusing my attention on Dixon.

We’ve met a handful of times, growing up in the same social circles, and since we were children, he’s given me a feeling that makes my insides crawl.

I hate the way his gaze slides down my body, resting on my chest for far too long before coming back to my eyes. The slow perusal makes my stomach turn and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from recoiling from his touch when he reaches for my hand.

“Hello, Addie,” he murmurs, his voice low as he holds my hand hostage in his. His words slither down my spine in a way that makes me feel nauseous, but I make sure my smile never wanes, even as I forcibly tug my hand free.

I nod curtly. “Dixon.”

“What a joyous occasion for us to celebrate!” Brent says, lifting his champagne glass high between us. Elizabeth, Judge Barrilleaux, and Dixon raise their glass in a toast, clinking against his.

We’re celebrating an arranged marriage, I think to myself, bile rising in my throat. A marriage that you’ve coerced me into, using the only thing I’ve ever truly loved as leverage to force my hand.

There’s nothing remotely joyous about this occasion.

“Addie, could I have a moment… alone with you?” Dixon says with an air of superiority, and everyone’s gaze flicks to me.

I can’t deny him in front of everyone, and he knows it.

“Of course.” I give another forced smile as he sweeps his hand out toward the door that leads to the porch, gesturing me forward and away from our parents.

As I rigidly walk away with Dixon, my gaze finds Amos, who’s standing in the corner, his jaw tight with worry. But he can’t intervene.

Not with Brent here. The stakes are too high.

Subtly, I give a nod in reassurance and lift my chin, making my way through the crowd toward the exit. The sticky, humid night air hits my face the moment I step outside, draping around me heavily.

It’s quieter out here, with only a few couples littered along the wraparound porch, providing Dixon the privacy he’s requested.

The last thing I want to do is be alone with him, but I didn’t see another option when he put me on the spot in front of his parents and my stepfather. I move toward the railing when he shuts the door and cross my arms over my chest to hide from his perpetually wandering gaze.

Clearly, it doesn’t help when he slides his gaze down my body, making me feel like an object that he’s attempting to possess. God, he’s sleazy.

I clear my throat, and his eyes flick to mine.

“You wanted to talk?”

He nods before raising the champagne glass to his lips, downing the remaining liquid in a single gulp. From the outside, Dixon Barrilleaux looks like the epitome of his namesake. As the son of one of the most influential judges in New Orleans, he oozes privilege and entitlement from every pore of his body. Custom-tailored suits, Italian leather loafers, a custom Rolex. Objectively, he’d be considered handsome, with perfectly styled hair, a chiseled, angular jaw, broad shoulders, and a too-perfect smile.

You wouldn’t know the cold, calculated truth that lies beneath the polished facade. That the privilege of his upbringing has made him cruel, arrogant, and ruthless.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with wanting to talk to my fiancée in private at our engagement party?” he rasps darkly, the irises of his eyes hollowing to almost black. When he steps closer, I retreat backward, hitting the railing behind me.

I glance around us before lowering my voice. “No need to pretend when we’re alone, Dixon. You know this marriage is a farce just as much as I do.”

A gruff laugh tumbles from his lips, devoid of any humor, the sound sending goose bumps along my flesh despite the late-August heat. “I know that you’re my prize. The one I’ve always wanted yet never been able to have. You’re finally going to be mine, Addie. My wife. In every sense of the word, whether you want to be or not. This marriage is happening, and if I were you, I’d be on my very best behavior… because I’m not the kind of man who tolerates disobedience.”

That knot of dread twists deeper in my stomach as revulsion washes over me in pulsing waves. Surely… No. I’ve always known that he’s wanted me, but not like this. Not when it’s clear I’m not, and never have been, interested in him that way.

I suck in a sharp breath as I clutch the railing, digging my nails into the wood and trying to ground myself.

Reaching out, he drags the rough pad of his index finger across my shoulder and down the exposed skin of my arm, making me shudder. He smiles sinisterly as he whispers darkly, “Two weeks, and you’ll be mine, sweet little Addie.”

The words feel like a prison sentence, shackling me in place while my head swims.

As I open my mouth to speak, a voice interrupts.

“Addie, I need to speak with you.” My gaze whips to Amos, who’s standing by the door, his jaw clenched tightly as he shoots piercing daggers toward Dixon with his eyes. “Right away. It’s important.”

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