Page 65 of Resist

“What?” I looked at Charles and then at the glass sitting in front of me, filled with the same burgundy liquid. “Um, I’ve never had wine before. We don’t have alcohol in Telvia. I’ve never—”

“Well,” Marissa interjected, her voice saccharine, “then you should absolutely have some. And remember,dear,” she saidwith an unusual emphasis on the last word, “it’s poor etiquette to leave an expensive glass of premium wine untouched.”

I glared. I couldn’t help it. Something about her tone and her total attitude…it was like she was trying to show Charles I was a terrible match for Wes. And frankly, it pissed me off. I gave her an equally, overly sweet smile, reached for my glass, and took a big sip.

And oh my god, it was a bad idea. The liquid burned as it passed my tonsils and coursed down my throat, leaving my esophagus feeling as though I had just swallowed acid.Yuck!But I gulped it down, almost choking, and plastered on the biggest smile I could. Marissa gave a knowing smile back, victory gleaming in her eyes as she raised her glass to me and took another sip. I raised my glass at her, forcing myself to take another drink before reaching for my water to chase it down.

“Excellent,” Charles said with a genuine smile in his eye. “Absolutely excellent. Now, let’s discuss the next matter of business. And, of course, this is the pièce de résistance,” he declared as he brought his fingers to his lips, kissed them, and then held them up high. “Let’s discuss the proposal.”

I started choking on my water.

“What’s the matter, dear? Is something wrong?” Leave it to Marissa.

I coughed and patted my chest before reaching for my napkin to cover my mouth. After a moment or two, tears flooding my vision, I waved Charles on. “I’m fine,”cough, cough. “Don’t”—cough—“mind me.”

“Try taking another sip of wine,” Charles insisted. “It always helps me,” he added with a smile.

I reached for my glass and took another sip, feeling the burn go down my throat, numbing the tickle. It didn’t burn as much this time around.

“Attagirl,” Charles said, raising his own glass. “Now, Wes, you will propose at the gala.”

Wes’s knife screeched suddenly against the china, frozen mid cut. Eyes on the plate in front of him, he said, “I was thinking of something more private—”

My heart stammered as I blew back the wine in my mouth into my glass mid drink. My eyes watered as I tried to cough again as quietly as I could into my elbow. Privately? He wanted to proposeprivately?Privatelyhow?When? I started feeling flushed.

Charles eyed me like I was an odd duck, but turned his attention back to his son. “Nonsense. You’ll propose at the gala. I’ll make an announcement to clear the dance floor and you will propose to Mara there.”

Wes shifted in his seat. “But—”

Charles kept talking as though he didn’t even notice his son. “I’ve already selected the ring. Your grandmother had a beautiful, yellow gold wedding band with this giant diamond. You would like that, now wouldn’t you, Mara?”

Was he actually asking me? Do I tell him the truth? “Um…well, I…”

“Come now, dear,” Marissa started on, “we’re all family here.”

I wasn’t sure what to do. The truth was, I didn’t like yellow gold. I never thought it looked good on me. And the few times I would even allow myself to imagine getting matched back in Telvia, I always imagined something simple. I had small hands…anything big or ornate would look awful on me.

“Of course, she’ll like it! Every woman wants giant stones set in gold,” Charles declared.

Swallowing, I reached for my wineglass and took another giant gulp. Interestingly, the numbing sensation was growing, and warmth was tickling up my spine and down my limbs.

“Dad,” Wes interjected again, the word sounding hollow and forced.

Once again, Charles didn’t even notice. “I’ve written you a script, Wes. I expect you to have it memorized. It would destroy the mood if you had to read it off a piece of paper.”

“Dad,” Wes repeated more firmly, volume increasing as his knuckles bleached white around his fork.

“The people are going to love it,” Charles rambled on. “It’ll fill them all with hope, and it’ll be a distraction from all of this awful war business—”

“Dad!” That got his attention. Charles snapped his mouth closed and faced his son. Wes stared at him head on. “Last time I checked,I’mthe one getting engaged. So I’m going to do itmyway—”

“You can shut your mouth right there, boy.” And suddenly, the whole scene wentDr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I saw a side of Charles Calvernon I had never seen before. His face grew cold, brows pinched, and lips set in a nasty scowl.

Wes rolled his shoulders back. “I’m not going to—”

Charles slammed his hand on the table, causing all the glasses to rattle and making me jump, spilling wine on my jeans. “You’ll do exactly as I say. I’m not stupid, Wes. Don’t try to con me into thinking that either of you have any feelings for each other.” He pointed at us both, and I felt my insides grow cold, freezing me in place. “You’re going to propose to her at the gala, and you’re going to read the speech I give you. You’re going to use your grandmother’s ring, and you’re both going to smile and wave at the crowd like a happy couple.” He smiled then, a frightening sneer that left me recalling dark memories of blood and solitude.

Wes glared back at his father, brows forming a deep V as his lips pressed together. “You don’t know anything about me or—”

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