Page 6 of Vapor

“Do you want to look like a hog in your wedding dress? You’ll be having the blackened tuna with creole mustard sauce on the side. Fish is a much better choice,” he says.

“They don’t have hamburgers on the menu, darling.” Justin reaches for my hand under the table, but I pull it away, pretending not to notice while reaching for the glass of water in front of me.

“Maybe once I’m married, I’ll be able to eat like a normal person,” I mutter.

“Your father is just trying to help you keep your figure trim,” Justin says in an admonishing tone.“He wants the best for you, and so do I.”

Funny how they say that even though they don’t care what I think. No one asks my opinion about anything. I’m supposed to stay silent and be a beautiful ornament on the arm of whichever man chooses to display me. If I could run away, I would. But that’s impossible with my father’s guards always following me.

The waiter returns with our appetizers. Fortunately, I won’t have to fight about eating any because my stomach’s in knots. Even if I wanted to scarf everything in front of me, I can’t. Not after what I did earlier.

Giving Vapor that napkin could have gotten me killed. There’s no doubt about it. It was a huge risk, but I had to do it. Hopefully he understands what I tried to tell him. I pray he follows through, because if he doesn’t…

I shudder to think about what will happen.

After taking both the drink and dinner orders, the waiter leaves. He returns a few minutes later with glasses of wine for everyone but me. I ordered hot tea with honey. Protecting my voice is the only thing my father and I agree on.

As the men discuss business, my sister chatters on about her wedding and about how she hopes mine will be just as beautiful. I think she actually means it. My sister and I don’t hate each other. We just don’t see eye to eye about most things. I wish we were thick as thieves, but we’re not. We don’t have the same values, and that makes a close relationship impossible.

“When are you going dress shopping?” Lacy asks.

“Didn’t you choose one already? You need time for alterations,” Father says.

“Jacques, you really shouldn’t ask about the dress. It’s bad luck,” Justin admonishes.

“I don’t have one, so there’s nothing to talk about.” I sit back and cross my arms over my chest. Justin’s gaze drops to my breasts. He’s obsessed with them. It’s revolting.

“Blue, we should go to the powder room before the main course arrives.” Lacy stands and grabs my hand, pulling hard.“We’ll be right back.”

As I follow her through the restaurant, more than a few men stare. My father forced both of us to wear waist trainers as soon as we got our first periods. He also made sure that his chef kept us on a strict diet of fish and vegetables. Lacy’s free from his restrictions, but she sticks to the rules anyway. She enjoys flaunting her body.

I despise the rules I’m still stuck following. I’ve never had a cheeseburger, or any other burger for that matter. Never had a single slice of pizza.

If I was ever set free, I’d eat it all and not give a single fuck if I got as fat as those roasted pigs at the St. Edward’s Fair. I’d try deep fried butter and corn dogs. Cotton candy and caramel apples. I want to cry at the thought of everything I’ve been missing.

“What the hell is your problem?” Lacy asks as soon as we’re in the sitting area inside the bathroom.

I plop down on a pink fainting couch and study the walls. They’re adorned with delicate, vintage wallpaper featuring subtle floral patterns. The floor is laid with polished marble tiles in shades of cream and gold. It seems strange to have such a contentious argument in a beautiful room.

“Well?” Lacy crosses the room to study her reflection in the large, gold-framed mirrors over the gleaming granite countertop. Fresh flowers and high-end toiletries in antique dispensers decorate the space. The air is filled with a light, floral scent, drowning out the aromas from the kitchen.

“I don’t want to marry him.”

“Obviously. But why the hell not? He’s richer than Xavier, which is no small feat. You’ll have everything you could ever want.”

“Except love.”

“Love?” She laughs as if it’s the most ridiculous word in the English language.“That’s the stuff of fairytales and other bullshit. Money will get you everything you love and more.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that your husband sleeps around with other women?”

“Only if they get access to his money.”

“And what if that happens?” I ask.

“They have a funny way of disappearing if anything like that occurs.” She arches a brow before pulling a tube of blood red lipstick out of her purse. I don’t know why she’s putting on more when we’re about to eat. Although I guess it doesn’t matter since she picks at her food like a bird.

“What do you do to them?” I whisper, glancing toward the bathroom stalls. I’m fairly sure we’re alone, but this is a delicate conversation I wouldn’t want anyone to overhear.

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