Page 45 of The Fiancée Farce
“Okay, lovebirds.” Rochelle looped her arm through Tansy’s. “Say buh-bye.”
“Buh-bye,” Tansy echoed, the flush of her cheeks matching the color of her dress, her blue eyes bright and glassy, looking the way Gemma felt.
Dumbstruck.
Rochelle disappeared around the corner with Tansy in tow, Max, Yvonne, and Lucy trailing after them.
Victor set off without another word, expecting Gemma to follow. She rolled her eyes, more than slightly tempted to turn tail and haul ass in the opposite direction. But that would only be putting off the inevitable.
Grudgingly, she followed him down the hall, the rest of her family already ahead of her—save for Brooks, who swept out his arm, gesturing for her to lead the way.
She’d always liked Brooks the best out of everyone in this godforsaken family.
“Scale of one to ten, how awful is this going to be?”
“One to ten?” Brooks tapped his fingers against his chin. “Hmm, twelve?”
“Only?” Gemma pouted. “A shame. I was hoping to set a new record.”
Brooks laughed. “I missed you, niece. It’s nice having another black sheep around.”
“Baa.” Gemma smiled, then winced, dragging her feet as the sound of raised voices drifted down the hall.
“Thirteen, maybe.” Brooks cringed. “Seeing as Bitsie’s in fine form.”
Delightful. Gemma took a deep breath, bracing herself. Time to face the music. She turned the corner into the parlor, stepping aside so Brooks could enter, too.
In the center of the room, Bitsie, Sterling, and Victor were engaged in a shouting match, the gist of which Gemma struggled to catch, hearing words bandied about likedisgraceanddaughterand—oh, it was about her, how nice.
“And what do you have to say for yourself?”
A beat of silence followed. Everyone was staring at her, expectant.
Gemma perched on the arm of the leather sofa nearest the door, crossing her legs at the ankles. Her slouch was all artifice, everything from her posture to the way she pursed her lips in apathetic impatience designed to make her appear at ease when she felt the opposite: on edge, her pulse a touch too rapid, her stomach churning viciously. “I’m going to assume I was summoned in here because you all want to privately congratulate me on my impending nuptials. I’m sure you’re all just beside yourselves with joy.”
Beside themselves with something.
“I congratulated you.” Brooks stood, meandering over to the bar cart in the corner of the room. “I even sent you a gift.”
“You sent me aGIF.” Gemma laughed. “A GIF of a unicorn shitting a rainbow.”
“Heavens,” Bitsie muttered, stroking Prudence’s fur.
Brooks poured several fingers of bourbon from a decanter into a lowball. He repeated the pour, capped the bottle, and crossedthe room, offering Gemma the second glass with a smirk. “It’s rude to look a gift horse in the mouth, niece.”
She accepted the drink with a grin, taking a healthy swallow of bourbon and letting it burn down the back of her throat.
“I told you all this was ridiculous.” Leave it to Tucker to lose his temper first, hands fisted and spittle flying.
“Tucker’s right. You honestly expect us to believe you’re engaged to a girl most of us have never met, that we’ve never even heard of until now?” Uncle Sterling laughed. “It’s preposterous.”
“Ihonestlythink it’s funny how who I’m seeing has never mattered to any of you before.” Gemma raised her chin, refusing to be cowed by their cross-examination. “What could be the reason for that? It wouldn’t, say, have something to do with my impending marriage satisfying the terms and conditions of Grandpa’s trust, would it?”
“This is about the future of this family,” Victor said.
“The future of this business, you mean.”
Victor stared, saying nothing.
