Page 34 of The Sculptor

It drives him mad to share.

I tug on the hair wrapped around my fingers, lifting his head. “Your brother told me to stay away from you again.”

The smile Duke flashes me is not sweet. “Then you best remember my warning.” He nips the sensitive skin that makes me yelp. “No one, not even my brother, will come between you and me, Ms. F—”

“Ms. Ford!”

I snap to attention. “I’m sorry, Lucinda. I promise I’ll hold still.”

Lucinda, the seamstress Langston hired for the wedding, casts me an annoyed frown. I’m sure she’d like to shake me since she’s poked herself with a pin several times in the past hour because I was moving on the pedestal.

Unlike most women, seeing myself in a wedding dress doesn’t bring tears to my eyes. If I had it my way, I’d rip off half of the excessively long train and burn it. I don’t need miles of wasted fabric serving as a Swiffer duster to the church’s hardwood floors. It’s not that I can’t appreciate a gorgeous train; it’s just not my style or the husband I imagine myself marrying in it.

“You’re restless,” notes Lucinda. “Pre-wedding jitters?” She smiles, and I feel bad for lying to her. Lucinda makes a living making brides feel like real-life princesses on their wedding day, and here I am not giving two shits about how I look when I sign my freedom away.

But it’ll be worth it, I tell myself.You’ll have closure.

Inhaling, I relax and level Lucinda with a practiced smile. “Is it that obvious?” I chuckle. “I just want everything to be perfect for Langston.”

The words settle in my stomach like lousy tofu.

“You’ll be perfect,” says Lucinda with an excited lilt in her voice. “I’ll make sure of it.”

I don’t tell her Langston couldn’t care less if every bead is in place or if the bustle looks like a cascading waterfall off my ass. He only cares that the plunging neckline highlights bigger tits than I have—which I still haven’t figured out how to make happen.

It’s been nearly a month since I left Duke in his hotel room. Four weeks of blocking his calls and texts. I knew he would be angry that I called Vance, but I couldn’t leave him without knowing he would be okay. After all, I brought this mess to his doorstep—technically, Langston did. I had no idea Duke was his plastic surgeon. But the point is, I brought back the screams.

It is one thing for me to endure the pain of our past.

But it’s unbearable to know Duke suffers the same.

I couldn’t bring back his pain and leave him alone. He needed his brothers, even if it meant enduring Vance’s disapproval. Though, when I called, Vance wasn’t as hateful as I remembered. He simply thanked me for telling him and offered me a half-ass congratulations on my impending nuptials.

It wasn’t the worst conversation I’ve had with him, but it was the only time I felt like I betrayed Duke by talking to his brother about us. It was always him and me against the world, and I served him up to his older brother on a platter.

You would have thought I’d feel worse about marrying Langston than about telling Vance where Duke was, but I don’t. Because I never intended to marry Langston. This marriage isn’t about love. Therefore, my love and loyalty to Duke remain intact, as I promised years ago. Ideally, I would have already found the information I needed before the ceremony, but after multiple attempts to get into Langston’s office safe, I have failed.

I need more time.

And the only way to get that time is to marry Langston. It’s not a great plan, but if I can prove what my mother whispered to me on her deathbed, all this pain will have been worth an arranged marriage.

Becausehe’sthe only thing that matters.

Duke will have to forgive me for contacting his brother and blocking his calls.

I’m doing this for us whether he wants me to or not.

And I can’t have him interfering or making me doubt my plan now. I need him safely away. Vance will make sure of that now. If there is one thing I can always count on is the Potter brothers protecting their own.

Vance thinks I’m bad news and fed his brother’s drug habit years ago.

Which is certainly not true. Duke never had a drug problem. But Duke and I both promised not to dispute the cover story our parents concocted.

And I won’t break that promise until I find the proof that will set us both free.

The wicked have prospered far too long at our expense.

We will not be shamed for our decisions.

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