Page 5 of Wicked God
I give him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry. But the invitation stands, should you change your mind. Until next time, Theodore.”
He watches me leave, a perplexed expression on his face as I make my way out of Le Ciel, the early autumn sunlight warming my face as I step onto the sidewalk. The light breeze carries the scent of changing leaves and freshly roasted coffee beans from nearby cafes.
I head towards Millhouse Gallery, the one place where I feel truly alive and in control.
The converted mill building rises before me like a beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak week. Its red brick facade and large industrial windows gleam in the afternoon sun, and I can already see potential visitors browsing the outdoor sculpture installation that Cassandra and I unveiled last month.
I push through the glass doors, and the familiar scent of fresh paint envelops me. This is my sanctuary, the one thing Dean can’t touch—at least not yet. However, his threat to destroy mybusiness still echoes in my mind, making my stomach clench with anxiety.
A few people are milling about the gallery, admiring the latest exhibits. Anna, who helps at the gallery part-time, catches my eye and smiles at me from across the room as she talks to a potential buyer. I smile back before making my way to my office at the back of the gallery.
“Cassandra?” I call out. “Are you here?”
I hear the familiar sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor before my business partner and best friend appears from the back room, her wild auburn curls barely contained by a paint-splattered headband. Cassandra Moore is everything I’m not—impulsive, passionate, and unafraid to speak her mind. She’s also the only person who knows about Dean’s ultimatum.
“Olivia! You’re back early. How was the date?”
Cassandra has been my closest friend ever since we met on our first day at an all-girls school after I moved into Carter Manor. She’s always been the adventurous one, pushing me out of my comfort zone and into a world of excitement and risk. She’s also the one who encouraged me to open up Millhouse Gallery, and she’s been by my side every step of the way. It doesn’t hurt that she seems to know everyone in town; her connections were crucial in getting our first few clients when we were just starting out. Without her, I doubt we would have gotten off the ground so quickly.
“Terrible,” I say, dropping into the leather chair behind my desk. “He spent the entire time talking about his ex-wife. Apparently, Monica has a ‘refined palate’ and an ‘exquisite eye for art.’”
Cassandra winces. “Yikes. That’s what, strike five this week?”
“Five disastrous dates. Five dead ends.” I rub my temples, feeling a headache building. “Time is running out, Cass. Deangets back from his business trip in two weeks, and then he’s going to tell Tiffany about the arranged marriage. I’m starting to think that my idea was indeed crazy.”
On paper, the plan seems foolproof. Find a wealthy, influential husband who could divert attention from Tiffany’s arranged marriage and give Uncle Dean a reason to reconsider. But in reality, finding a man willing to marry a woman he barely knows for the sake of disrupting a political alliance is proving to be nearly impossible.
“I warned you from the beginning that your plan was the most reckless and crazy thing I’ve ever heard of. Darling, what did you expect? To find a husband in a week? It’s...” She pauses, searching for the right word. “Well, it’s ambitious, to say the least.”
I sigh, slumping against the chair. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but—”
“But you would do anything for Tiffany,” Cassandra finishes. “I understand. But if finding a rich man was as easy as picking up groceries, everyone would be married to a millionaire by now. And for what it’s worth, I’ve known Alexander Hawthorne since prep school. He’s not the monster you’re imagining. Maybe marrying him wouldn’t be the worst thing for Tiffany.”
“No,” I say sharply, sitting up straighter. “Tiffany is not a chess piece for Dean to shove around. She deserves the right to make her own choices—not just be handed off for convenience.”
She taps her manicured nails against her chin. “Then you need to step outside of your usual circles. Expand your search, meet new people, and broaden your horizons. You have to be in the right place at the right time.”
“I know you too well, Cass,” I say exasperatedly. “You have something in mind. Just tell me, no need to butter me up.”
She laughs. “I had an inspirational speech ready, you’re missing out. Anyway, I organized a thank-you dinner for all thetop donors and sponsors of our local college tonight. It’s an exclusive event for the crème de la crème of society, if you will.”
I sit up straighter. “Go on.”
Cassandra’s grin widens. “This might be the perfect opportunity for you. These men aren’t just wealthy; they’re loaded with power, connections, and prestige—all things Uncle Dean can’t resist. If you can find one without a significant other,” she adds as an afterthought.
A glimmer of hope sparks in my chest. “You think I might meet someone suitable there?” I ask, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.
“It’s possible.” Cassandra shrugs. “At the very least, it’s a better hunting ground than any of those fancy parties or stuffy events we’ve been attending. And,” she adds with a wink, “the champagne will be flowing. That always helps.”
The idea of another evening filled with forced smiles and small talk is draining, but time is running out. For Tiffany’s sake, I can’t afford to be picky.
“Well, when you put it that way... I guess it couldn’t hurt to give it a shot.”
“Fabulous!” She claps her hands together. “I’ll send a car for you at half past eight. Wear that red Valentino dress—you look absolutely lethal in it.”
As Cassandra hurries off to make arrangements, I’m left alone in my office with my thoughts and a growing sense of dread.
My plan is bold and possibly reckless, but if there’s even a slim chance of finding someone who can play the role I so desperately need them to, then I must take it.
