Page 2 of Owen

On the outside, I’m good old jokey Owen, while on the inside, I’m fucking dying.

My body may give out from all the stress that led up to today, because of all the effort I’ve put into making this relationship work: asking Evangeline out on dates, taking her to fancy restaurants, shopping trips, cocktails on my father’s new yacht with her fancy-pants, stuck-up friends. She’s insufferable, moody, and, trust me, I know that at only twenty-one, and tenyears my junior, she’s still a child, but she’s truly a brat. And not in the submissive kind of way I might enjoy. Oh no, she’s a full-on immature kid who is every inch the spoiled little princess her parents allowed her to be.

Nothing I’ve done for her, and I mean none of it, has been or ever will be good enough.

I’m not good enough.

Something my mother has told me every day since I was born.

So it must be true, right?

My heart feels like it’s being eviscerated by the devil’s claw as sharp shooting pains rip through my chest, forcing me to bend at the waist while I suck in ragged breaths to ease the discomfort.

Lincoln and Jacob are on either side of me, patting my back, telling me that I’m going to be okay.

Only, I’m not okay.

I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get through today, or the rest of my life for that matter.

Being around Evangeline is deeply unpleasant, and tomorrow we move into a house her father bought for us.

How can I live with someone who hates me?

Someone who doesn’t know a thing about me?

Because she’s never taken the time to ask.

We’re simply doing as we’re told. Our whole lives are being dictated.

And our parents are the ultimate puppet masters.

What the fuck am I doing?

Every millisecond leading up to this day has made my heart beat slower and, with each decision taken on my behalf, “for the good of the family,” a little more of my soul dies. MarryingEvangeline is simply the icing on the shit-cake that comes from being born a Brodie.

I’ve always wanted to marry for love, and wedefinitelydon’t love each other.

This wedding is a complete sham.

A façade.

We are beingforcedto marry one another to “strengthen and unite our families”… apparently.

Build an empire, bring more Brodie children into the world to carry on the screwed-up legacy. Although, I’m not sure how that will happen when she won’t even let me hold her hand. Something I’m sure our parents haven’t considered in their grand plan.

Evangeline’s family are millionaires, mine are billionaires. Joined through our marriage, our fathers will work together, strike deals, and become the largest printing house in the United Kingdom, printing every newspaper, magazine, and comic strip. My dad has plans to go international and add an indie author publishing arm to the business, and, he informs me, the only way we can do that is through Evangeline’s father’s contacts. He’s well connected and has already started negotiations, but doesn’t have the funds to make it happen. That’s where we come in.He scratches our back, we scratch his.

So, for today… for the rest of my life… and for my family’s sake, I have to fake it and push my heartbreak so far down it’ll rot me from the inside out.

She doesn’t love me.

I don’t love her.

But we’ll pretend we are so deeply in love… for the sake of the family, because I was raised to fulfill their expectations without question.

God, I feel sick.

Within the side room of the church, Lincoln and Jacob help me regain my composure and then try to distract me by laughing and joking around, but I’m lost in my own thoughts, remembering a conversation with my mother earlier as we neared the church.

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