Page 48 of The Fiancée Farce
Gemma narrowed her eyes. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep my fiancée’s name out of your mouth.” She turned to her father. “You would seriously ratherTuckertake over this company than have your own daughter at the helm? Really?”
“Your cousin has never embarrassed this family.” Victor stared back at her, eyes impassionate. “Your cousin has never disappointed me.”
Well, fuck.Her sinuses stung and her eyes welled with moisture.
No matter how hard she tried, nothing she did would ever be good enough. No amount of rehabbing her reputation—which she’d earned from acting out in an attempt to get her father’s attention, a method that had backfired by ensuring she’d never gain his approval—would undo the damage done. No number of good deeds would ever outweigh the handful of harmless mistakes she’d made. Nothing would ever be enough.
Shewould never be enough.
Gemma balled her hands into fists at her sides, nails digging into the meat of her palms to redirect the pain, to keep her tears from spilling over.
She wished it didn’t hurt, that she was tough enough not tocare what her family thought of her, as tough as she pretended to be. Weakness wasn’t tolerated, not in this family. Someone would always be there, watching, taking notes, cataloging those weaknesses so that one day they might be exploited, used against her as ammunition, a knife in her back. Gemma had hoped she was beyond the point of caring, but logic didn’t matter here;knowingwas different thanfeeling.Apparently, she’d never actually be past it. A part of her, no matter how childish and naive, would always crave her father’s validation, his approval. His affection.
A part of her would always be disappointed.
Look at that—something they had in common.
Gemma didn’t waste her breath on another word, throwing back her drink before turning on her heel and stalking through the door and into the hall.
“Don’t walk away from me.” Her father followed her out. “I’m not finished.”
Well, Gemma was. Gemma was done. She didn’t bother slowing down.
“If you’re hell-bent on being a part of the company, I’m sure we can find you a place somewhere,” Victor offered.
“What? Fetching coffee?” Tucker joked.
Gemma bit her tongue, frustration fueling her footsteps as she picked up her pace, crossing from the hardwood floor of the hall onto the tile in the foyer. She’d show Tucker. He was going to swallow his fucking words.
Victor huffed behind her. “This is a farce, Gemma.”
“Is it really so hard for you to believe I met someone—someone who loves me for me? Someone who wants to marry me?”
“Not if it were true,” Victor said. “Clearly it isn’t. Clearly, you are making a mockery of matrimony. I know it, we all know it, and don’t think for one second the board won’t know it, too.”
“A mockery of matrimony?” Oh, that was rich, coming from him. “As if you didn’t do that with both your divorces.”
“Don’t start with me.”
“I didn’t start this, you did.” She threw a glare over her shoulder. “But trust me when I say I intend to finish it.”
Chapter Nine
“I’m actually ordained, you know.”
Tansy’s eyes flitted to the door. Gemma sure had been gone awhile. Her friends were around here somewhere, keeping an eye on her from a distance without crowding her. “Wow, ordained?”
BusterBarnes, the chairman of the board of VDP and the executor of Gemma’s grandfather’s will, had taken it upon himself to introduce himself to Tansy, offering her his enthusiastic congratulations.
“Indeed. Did it online! Married all six of my grandchildren myself.” He beamed, the creases around his eyes deepening. “I love a good wedding, don’t you?”
Tansy smiled, cringing on the inside. Mr.Barnes seemed friendly, but small talk physically pained her, and every muscle in her face all the way down to her toes was clenching. She’d perfected the art of retail small talk—did you find everything you were looking for todayandwow, looks like the sun might break through the clouds today after all—but even then,especially then, she preferred a genuine meeting of minds over polite chitchat.
“I haven’t actually been to many weddings myself,” she admitted, casting another glance at the door, hoping her nerves weren’t too obvious. The last thing she wanted to do was say the wrongthing, putting her foot in her mouth in front of the man who could—would—decide her and Gemma’s fates. The pressure to make a good impression was high, which of course only exacerbated her already frazzled nerves at being in a room full of people she either didn’t know or didn’t like. Who didn’t like her. “Most of my friends are either single or were married before I met them. But I do love a good love story.”
If only he knew the role her love of love stories, of romance novels, had played in her and Gemma’s very own meet-cute. Meet-disaster.
“Don’t we all?” He rocked back on his heels, drumming his fingers against the side of his glass. “You know, if you and Gemma are looking for an officiant, I’d be happy to offer my services.” He winked. “Free of charge.”
