Page 71 of Compulsion

“Thank you,” I whisper when we finally come up for air.

“I’ve got you,” he promises. “Say the word, and we’ll leave.”

I straighten my shoulders. “I want to be here with you,” I declare, finding strength in his staunch support. “I won’t let them control me ever again. I’m not going to run away.”

The car comes to a stop in front of the antebellum mansion. It’s undeniably beautiful: a three-story manor with white columned porches and classic navy shutters. Live oaks surround the circular driveway, and Spanish moss drips from their elegant branches. The azaleas and hydrangeas are in full bloom,festooning the manicured gardens in shades of pink, purple, and blue.

It's a lovely day for a wedding, even if the setting disturbs me.

For a moment, I consider leaving on principle; plantation weddings shouldn’t be a thing anymore, my own damage aside. It feels wrong to celebrate love here and pretend that nothing bad ever happened on this land.

“Are you sure you want to stay?” Dane asks, lingering with me in the stopped car. “We can go straight back home if you’re uncomfortable.”

I shake my head. “I am uncomfortable, but we’re staying. I’m here with you. I can do this.”

His eyes flash in response, and he lifts my hand to kiss my knuckles. I swoon for my dashing hero all over again. This gorgeous man has chosen to bring me to his colleague’s wedding. I’ll focus on that to get me through the event.

He gets out of the car first and then holds my door open for me. I don’t protest his gentlemanly treatment as he holds my hand to steady me.

I’m perfectly capable of getting out of the car on my own, but I’m starting to like leaning on Dane. He clearly derives pleasure from taking care of me, and I’m becoming addicted to his satisfied smile when I allow him to do so.

His hand spans my lower back as he guides me around the house and into the gardens. Hundreds of white chairs have been arranged in neat rows facing the back porch, where it seems the happy couple will say their vows. We’re early enough that only about a third of the chairs are filled, and scores of other guests are milling around the green space.

A table is set up near the huge magnolia tree, and silver cups wait with mint juleps to keep us cool during the hot day.

“Do you want a drink?” Dane asks.

“No, thank you. I don’t want any alcohol.” If my family is here, I want my wits sharp.

He nods in easy agreement, and we find two seats on the final row. I know Dane should make a show of sitting closer to the front, given his close relationship with the groom, but he’s making a silent gesture that I have an out if I need it. We can leave at any time, and it’ll be easier to slip away unnoticed if we’re behind the crowd.

The string quartet starts up, signaling that it’s time for everyone to find their seats.

By the time the bride glides down the aisle, I finally start to relax. My family isn’t here.

Dane’s thumb brushes my palm in a pulse of comfort, and I lean into him. I know he must be hot in his tux, but he looks as cool and handsome as ever: an untouchable, perfect sculpture of male serenity.

I find that I’m grateful for the beautiful, lilac dress he purchased for me. The sweetheart neckline is modest enough for a wedding while still giving my smaller breasts a feminine curve. The waist is fitted perfectly to my measurements, and the full skirt flows down to my ankles. Tiny, subtle lavender flowers are embroidered into the lightweight fabric, spilling down the skirt like delicate wisteria.

In this stunning dress, I almost feel worthy of my dashing white knight.

And knowing that my ruined panties are in his pocket while I’m bare for him underneath the dress makes my pulse race. We’re the picture of refinement, but we have a filthy, perverted secret that binds us together.

I touch my fingers to my throat, searching for the leather band of the collar that marks me as his. Of course, it’s not there, so I drop my hand and place it back in his firm grip.

His keen eyes noted my gesture, and they glitter with desire. I wonder if he’s thinking about my panties in his pocket too.

People are cheering. The ceremony is over.

I laugh, giddy at the intense connection I share with Dane and the fact that we made it through the ordeal without seeing my family.

He captures the sound of my joy on his lips, sweeping me up in a kiss that rivals the couple on the porch. But if anyone notices us, they don’t comment. Everyone is too polite to stare. Besides, they’re supposed to be focused on the bride and groom.

It’s only when the guests are dispersing into the garden that I hear my mother’s voice, and my stomach drops.

“Abby, honey! I didn’t know you’d be here.”

She sounds absolutely delighted to see me, but I know that falsely sweet tone.

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