Page 21 of Pretty Little Threats

An argument is probably exactly what Dare wanted.

He’s so infuriating.

As if hearing my thoughts, Dare glances at me, the corner of his mouth twitching when he catches me watching him. But then his gaze drops back to his phone.

Why is he here? He’s not even listening.

Dare glances up again and gives me one of those infuriatingsmirks that’s meant to say he knows me and knows what I’m thinking. The problem is, he’s right. Usually, I have a good poker face, but Dare sees right through the mask.

Is that because he wears one too?

I’m not sure I could handle having more in common with him. Both of us being intimately familiar with loneliness is enough. His eyes narrow, and I avert my gaze, taking a breath to force him out of my head.

By the time I calm down, Dad has moved on, giving a summary of next fiscal year’s strategy, which includes my newest project. When it’s my turn to speak, I avoid looking at Dare at all costs.

“Futurum is a great opportunity to invest in our community. Art has a way of bringing out the best in people, and by giving local artists a chance to earn money, we can help foster creativity and rejuvenate the artistic culture in NYC. The gallery will include art from local artists and build a network of creators and curators.”

Dad gives me a pointed look.

Right. Always about the business. “And, for those of you who need it, funding the business and payroll will be a good tax write-off.”

“Thank you to those who believed in Rosalynn and agreed to provide the funding to start this venture.” Dad clears his throat. “Now, on to more important matters.”

It’s a harmless little thing, but it feels like a jab. He didn’t love the idea when I presented it to him. After I found investors and artists and proved it was viable, he reluctantly got on board. Dad continues discussing the plans for the rest of this year and next, everyone listening to him with rapt attention. Well, everyone but Dare.

He tips his head when our gazes collide, and I can all but hear his unspoken taunt in my head.The pawn.

Annoyance shoots up my spine, and I’m half tempted to mouthdouchebagjust to see his reaction, but based on our last discussion, he’d probably think it was funny more than anything.

Dad clears his throat. “Which brings us to an announcement we’ve been waiting to make. Rosie?”

My head snaps in Dad’s direction. He gestures for me to join him. Heart skipping, irritation forgotten, I pinch my eyebrows together and stand.

“As you know, my daughter is my whole world,” Dad says as I walk toward him.

Is he really doing this now? We didn’t even talk about the succession plan. He hasn’t mentioned wanting to retire. I join him and his arm wraps around my shoulder, fingers digging into my arm, reminding me to stand tall. I mostly manage to hide my wince.

Dare scowls as Dad continues. “She’s worked hard for JD Miller & Co, and she’s made me so proud.”

My chest warms and I smile at him, happy he appreciates the work I’ve put in.

“Which is why I’m happy to announce that she’ll be marrying Eric Vanderbelt, creating an official partnership between JD Miller & Co and Vanderbelt Advisors.”

What the fuck?

The boardroom erupts in applause as confusion and betrayal slither through my skin. Years of practice has my mouth locked in a smile, but internally, I think I’m dead.

My heart isn’t beating. Breath frozen in my lungs. Limbs locked. Chest tight.

He can’t be serious. This is some sort of joke. It has to be. Arranged marriages happen all the time in our world—rich families aligning themselves to get even richer, turning millions to billions. But he promised me I’d never have one. Though I was seven, a kid, I remember telling him I didn’t want one. I remember him assuring me that would never happen.

Everyone is congratulating me, oblivious to my inner turmoil. Ignorant to the claws of betrayal that shred my insides. The more they smile, the more isolated I feel. They all expected this. They’re happy. They don’t know that Eric tried to force himself on me. They have no regard for my feelings, but worst of all, Dad doesn’t seem to care, either.

Dad holds up a hand to silence everyone. “The wedding will be in the spring, and you’re all invited,” he says, squeezing me hard enough to shock me out of my stupor.Get it together.

I stare at him, face scrunching, but he looks away and continues discussing how this will be great for JD Miller & Co. The board is ecstatic, giant grins, pats on the shoulder, whispered plans of all the possibilities once Eric is officially part of the company. They’re not looking at me anymore, almost as if they forgot I exist.

As if I’m just a piece that’s been moved across the board, and they’re already on to the next strategy. The pawn Dare accused me of being. Acid churns in my stomach. I’ve always known my life was pre-designed, and I was okay with that, so long as I got to control this part.

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