Page 105 of The Marriage Narrative
“It’s what we do,” Blue said with pride. “Time for jewelry.”
They laid out all her options, each one more diamond-encrusted or clustered with pearls than the last. Breathtakingly beautiful and not at all her style. “Am I required to wear any of those?”
“They’re all loaners. Tagged and numbered,” Red said quickly, as if he were afraid that she’d steal them.
“These are the best options for the dress,” White added.
“I’ll pass, then. I brought my own.”
In the common area of Zinnia’s hotel room suite, Amber was sitting on the couch working on her tablet, same as ever. She rattled off orders to her assistant, who nodded with the occasional “Yes, ma’am.”
He noticed her first—a lightning-fast double take and dropped jaw.“Wow,”he breathed.
“What?” Amber asked, frowning as she followed his gaze. “Well. I’m going to have to hire you more often,” she said to the beauty team.
Zinnia justknewshe was going to have a bad time at the birthday party. She moved through the world fairly easily. Enough to feel like a solid part of it—not always welcome because racism and sexism were everywhere—but never so much that she felt like a walking target.
Being perceived because she looked so different from her usual self was really going to fuck with her head.
Amber stood up and circled around Zinnia. She stopped in front of her with an unsatisfied pout. “I won’t fight you about this tonight, but there’s a time and place for sentimental jewelry.” She inspected her face and turned to the team. “I wanted Black America’sSweetheart, not supermodel.” She paused, considering. “Now that I know she can pull off both looks, I still prefer the former. It pairs better with Alfie. Scale back on the makeup next time. You’re dismissed. All of you.”
Zinnia began to follow everyone when Amber’s exasperated sigh stopped her. “Not you. Why do you do that?”
“Might help if you said my name and, I don’t know, asked me to stay.”
“I shouldn’t have to remind you that tonight is important, but I will since you seem to have trouble reading between the lines.”
“Only on Sundays. No need to be nasty about it,” she said, and then something miraculous happened.
Amber laughed—anactualchuckle.
Hell must’ve frozen over.
“Tonight is also Alfie’s professional debut amongst our friends and associates,” Amber said, all business again. “This is his chance to speak about Tantivy, which he built on his own, and how hard he’s worked to do it. Your job is to be the beautiful wife on his arm to complete the package. Now, you may talk about your shop and your artwork if asked, but it’s imperative that attention mostly remains focused on him. Is that clear?”
“Sure. I love being employed.”
Amber’s pointed stare was riddled with amusement. “Despite my initial reservations, you’ve proven to be sufficiently adept at loving my son in public. Do not let that mask slip for a single second because I will know if it does and so will the viewers. Keep your story consistent. You metexactlyhow Alfie claimed you did. I’ve already had all traces of your dating profiles scrubbed from the internet. No one will know the truth unless you tell them it exists.”
As if she needed a reminder that their real marriage story wasn’t acceptable. She’d deleted her account the same night as their first meeting anyway.
“Did Jordan tell you? Or did you find it on your own?”
Amber ignored her. She began collecting her things and headed for the door. “I don’t know if I like you yet,” she admitted. “But I am grateful for everything you’ve done for our family. Thank you for being here, Zinnia. Thank you for…for trying.”
Our? Thank you?
Zinnia’s delighted laugh abruptly shifted into a wince. The designer had her measurements. Why the hell was her dress so damn tight? She took as deep a breath as possible and manually readjusted her bodice. “Anytime.”
“As far as anyone is concerned, you are a Zaffre. They fuck with you, they answer to me,” Amber promised. “Oh, and if asked, do not answer any questions regarding plans to have children. Not even as one of your little jokes.”
Jordan
Zinnia beamed in the general direction of one of their four security guards. “We basically have our own secret service. It’s kinda cool.”
Said security guard’s jaw twitched. For someone who was supposed to be stone-cold focused, his eyes looked a little too charmed for Jordan’s liking.
They were skipping the red carpet and being escorted into the venue through an underground parking garage. After a planned announcement, they’d covertly slip into the crowd. There’d be mingling and networking and small talk for at least two hours before they’d be allowed to hide the night away in the VIP section.
