Page 3 of Point of No Return

“You can’t expect us to have the most lucrative wedding of the year planned in under a month, Eva. Even money can’t make up for time. And…” he adds, looking toward my father, “You’re getting paid quite handsomely for her.”

I grit my teeth to keep from saying something I shouldn’t. I’m being bought- sold. As if my ownership can be traded for a sum.

“What’s two more months, Eva? It will give everyone time to prepare,” my father chimes in though his voice is quiet.

My mother’s face remains perfectly blank, and I take the moment to interject. “Whenexactlyam I supposed to meet said fiancé?” My question is directed at the General, but it’s a dig at my parents for leaving me in the dark through all of this.

Over the years, I’ve heard of the Benenatis mainly in passing. Two heirs to an elusive Westlan empire- one founded on fear, control, domination. An empire Tyson Benenati built with an iron fist, and it’s one that will remain strong for generations to come. While I’ve never set foot in the same room as Tyson or his sons before tonight, we share most of the same social circles now. I know plenty of them by word of mouth.

My husband will not be a loving man.

Tyson shrugs. “I expect he should be back in time for dinner tomorrow evening. He’s been away the past week on business, but as you’ll be moving in tomorrow, he’ll be spending more time at home.”

Time freezes.Moving in tomorrow…It’s hard to breathe for a long moment, and during that time, I look to my mother who’s speaking again. The words aren’t registering. There’s no sound, nothing except for the color of her dark lipstick fading in and out of focus.Moving in tomorrow…

“To Skar and Charlotte then,” someone says, but it sounds a thousand miles away. It isn’t until they all raise their glasses and my mother’s hand grips my leg beneath the table that I snap out of it. Her glass is raised, dark eyes watching me expectantly.

I blink at her. “I haven’t packed.”

My mother laughs. “Oh, Charlotte… The servants are already taking care of everything.”

“This will be good for you,” Tyson says from across the table. Despite his thinning hair, he speaks like a man with the confidence of lifetimes on his back. His voice reeks of arrogance. “You may be used to luxury here, I’m sure. But I can guarantee: You’ve had nothing like the Benenati way of life.” He drains another sip of wine, and I silently pray he chokes on it.

My eyes slide to Eva again, wondering what exactly it might take to win her over in a business deal. We both know my father had nothing to do with it. When married to a woman like my mother, he never has a say.

This can’t just be about money. We have more than enough.But prestige? A leg up on the social ladder? Am I really worth that little?

“I’d best be going,” Tyson stands, and we follow suit. I catch myself against the table when my legs wobble, but I hold my ground as he stops just in front of me. With a shaking hand, he drags a finger over my tattoos. I jerk away from him, watching in mute horror as he grins. “My son will be pleased. You Prevyain females have always been easy on the eye.”

Something horrible curls in my gut- both at the mention of Prevya and his son- but before I can say anything, my mother pipes up again. “Goodnight, General.”

I don’t wait to see if he’s gone before I whirl toward her. “Why?” I blurt. She simply smiles as she leans back in her seat.

“You’ve always known we’d find your match, Lottie. It’s only been a matter of time.”

My voice is deathly low. “That’s not what I’m asking and you know it.”

Another grin spreads across her face. Her head swivels toward my father. “I think it’s time you retire to bed, don’t you, my dear?” My father knows better than to get between us, and my mother might as well have declared war for all of the damage she’s done tonight. He plants a kiss on her cheek before he leaves. The fire crackles loudly, popping and sputtering blue flame as the logs settle. “What have I always told you, Lottie?”

My mother has a great deal of sayings I can recite off the top of my head, but for some reason, none of them come to mind now. I’m blank- cold fury and patience.

“We make our own way in this world. We do what we must to survive.”

“That’s why you’re marrying me off to a man I don’t know? To help me make my own way in the world?” The words are harsher than I mean them- probably the harshest I’ve ever dared speaking to her, but right now, I don’t care.Angry. I’m damn angry.

My mother chuckles again, but there’s no humor in her voice. “It won’t be long, dear girl. Just long enough to get what we need.”

At that, I raise a brow. My mother doesn’t often speak in riddles. Half-truths and careful prose maybe, but she’s direct. Normally more so. “What are you saying?”

“You’re marrying into the most powerful family in Westos, but this is about more than that.”

Rather than saying anything, I stare at her. Marriage. Money. Power. This is all a game to her. Our position in society is all she’s ever cared about. As Prevyains, we’re downcast, looked down upon. Spat at. When Prevya was bought and my people were sold or butchered, we became a commodity. A relic of the old world-exotic.

My mother succeeded in securing riches- at least more than any other Prevyain alive. But it’s still not enough. As her only living child, I’m her last chance to move up.

“Tyson is dying,” she finally says. “Aleksander, the second eldest isn’t of age to inherit the empire- and won’t be for another two years. You will marry Skar.”

“Why will it matter that Tyson is dying? Skar will inherit after his father.”

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