Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

MARIGOLD

" P lease zip, please zip."

I tugged at the zipper on the back of the dress. If it ripped, I was going to move to Siberia. I would be too humiliated to ever face Zayn again.

With the dress's stubbornness mocking me, I released a breathy plea to the universe, squeezing my eyes shut and willing it to move the last couple of inches. "Come on, work with me here." As if taking pity on my plight, the small piece of metal finally inched up its track. I stepped back from the mirror and took measure of myself.

Every curve was accentuated, every flaw a testament to the dress's cruel design. Zayn had chosen it for me with a devilish twinkle in his eyes that seemed to say, "This is a test. You better not fail." Well, failing wasn't an option tonight.

I picked up the heels he'd paired with the dress. God, they were skyscrapers. Too high, too sleek, and too intimidating to even be considered shoes. They were more like weapons of mass destruction for someone as clumsy as me.

"I swear, Zayn, if I trip and break my neck tonight, it's your fault," I muttered under my breath, slipping into the death traps. As I stood up, vertigo hit me like a freight train. I took a tentative step forward, gripping on the back of a chair for support.

Trying to ignore the quivering in my legs, I stepped away from the chair. With every wobbly step I took, the room spun more and more. Was this how models with legs for days felt? How did they keep their balance? I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then continued to walk.

"Okay, you can do this," I whispered to myself. My reflection in the floor-length mirror mocked my attempt at poise, my widened eyes reflecting fear rather than confidence. I thought back on all those graceful movie stars that managed it so effortlessly and wondered how many of them had also considered Siberian exile.

It had been a few days since we got back from Wyoming. And now we were going all in on the engagement.

Hence the dress. I didn't dare put on any shapewear. The dress was enough to keep things contained. Did my body look all smooth and perfect? Nope, but I could breathe.

I got a text a few minutes later. My stomach plummeted. This was it.

Zayn was waiting for me downstairs. It was time to go. I grabbed the cute little purse that went with the dress. The walk down the stairs was an exercise in terror management. My heart pounded in my chest as I took each step with agonizing slowness.

The rough banister was the only thing separating me from a disastrous tumble down the stairs. I clung to it like a lifeline, my knuckles whitening under the strain.

I finally made it to the bottom without incident, but my ordeal wasn't over yet. Zayn was waiting for me at the foot of the staircase, looking as if he'd stepped out of a fashion magazine in his impeccably tailored suit. His eyes were fixed on me, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Wow," he murmured. "You look amazing."

"Thank you. I feel like a baby deer learning to walk."

I got into the back of the luxury car, trying to steady my nerves. I was dressed to the nines in what was probably the fanciest dress I'd ever worn—a stunning silk gown in a rich plum shade that made me feel like a queen. It hugged my curves in all the right places and flowed gracefully with every movement. The off-the-shoulder design made me feel a bit exposed, and the overall opulence of it seemed way too extravagant for a family dinner, even if it was at Zayn's father's house.

Zayn was sitting beside me, his expression a mixture of excitement and ease as he rambled on about his family. He dropped name after name. There was no way I was going to remember all of the brothers, their wives, and their children. There was enough of them to populate their own city.

He explained the whole dynamic between Kathy and Armand, his father and his aunt, and it was giving me a headache. How many stepbrothers did he have? And who was married to whom again?

I tried to keep up with his explanations about Armand's history with Kathy—how he'd loved her for decades, and now they were finally on their way to their happily ever after. It was a little strange that Armand had always loved his brother's wife, but I supposed it happened. Some guys were assholes, and it sounded like Armand's brother was a real piece of work.

Hence the nine known sons with several different women while he was married to Kathy.

Wild.

"And rumor has it," Zayn said with a grin as he reached for my hand. "My dad just bought her an engagement ring. I'm planning to do some recon tonight to figure out when he's proposing so we don't accidentally steal his thunder."

I nodded, though my mind was preoccupied with how out of place I felt. "That sounds like a good idea."

The car pulled off the main road and through a gate. I was hyper-focused, taking it all in. The driveway was lit with perfectly straight rows of lanterns on either side of the driveway. Neatly trimmed bushes were perfectly lined up along the immaculate lawn, surrounding a grand fountain that gushed clear water in the center of the circular driveway. A sprawling mansion loomed in the backdrop, all white stucco and intricate stonework. It was something straight out of a fairy tale.

Zayn laughed at my wide-eyed expression. "I know it's a lot the first time you see it."

I blinked, turning to him with raised brows. "This is insane. It would take all day to walk from one end to the other. And your dad lives here?"

"Yes. He and Kathy bought this place recently. They wanted a home here in New York so they can have all the kids over for dinners and whatever. They've decked out the backyard for the grandkids."

I noticed the array of cars parked outside the sprawling mansion. It hit me then just how out of my depth I was. I checked my phone, ensuring it was on silent, not wanting it to go off during what I assumed was going to be a formal affair. That was when I saw the notifications—two hundred of them on Instagram.

"What the hell?" I murmured.

My heart raced as I opened the app and saw a photo of Zayn and me at the Harvest Festival. I was looking up at him, and he was grinning down at me. The post was from Courtney, captioned, "Who'd have thought our little Marigold would catch a big fish like Zayn Bancroft? So happy for you babes on your engagement. Xo."

I felt a wave of panic. Courtney had done this for the social media attention and to spoil our announcement. It was premeditated. My mind raced. How was I supposed to face Zayn's family now that the news was out before we were ready?

I showed Zayn the post, my fingers trembling. "The cat's out of the bag," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Zayn glanced at the screen and shrugged. "Lucky for us, Courtney doesn't have many followers. No one cares what she has to say."

"That's true but it'll spread eventually," I said. "Did she screw everything up, as usual?"

He smiled and shook his head. "It's not a big deal. We'll figure it out. Besides, it's not like we could keep it a secret forever. And my family tends to avoid social media. We're stars on there whether we want it or not. Ignorance is bliss."

"But we were supposed to wait until Armand proposed," I reminded him, my voice tinged with frustration.

"Right, and we haven't announced anything," Zayn said with a casual shrug. "Some loser broke the news, which absolves us of any guilt."

Zayn climbed out of the car and then reached for my hand to help me out. My anxiety spiked. He kept his hand in mine. I wasn't sure how many Bancrofts I was about to meet, but judging by the number of cars, it was an army.

Zayn squeezed my hand. I did my best to steady my nerves, but it was futile. The grandiosity of the house only heightened my nerves.

"I don't know if I can do this," I said, digging in my heels—literally.

Zayn stopped and turned to look at me. He moved to stand directly in front of me, still holding my hand.

"Listen to me," he said, looking straight into my eyes. "I know this seems super intimidating right now. I mean, hell, I still find it unnerving at times too." He gestured to the mansion with an exaggerated flail of his free hand. "Trust me when I say that my family is not as scary as you might think. Yes, they are a bunch of overachievers and larger-than-life personalities, but at the end of the day, they're just people. We put our Italian suits on one leg at a time."

"That's not helping," I said, but I smiled despite my words. He always had a way of talking me down. I nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay. Just bail me out if I start making a total fool of myself."

He nodded. "Deal."

When we entered the house, the mood was not what I expected. It was immediately clear that the Bancroft family was upset. Zayn's brothers, Hudson and Hayes he quickly pointed out, exchanged uncomfortable glances. Everyone seemed to be simmering with hurt feelings. They were clearly displeased with Zayn, presumably for keeping our relationship a secret.

I wanted to disappear. The wealth and the formality of the house made me feel out of place, and the stares I received made me feel like I was stuck on the bottom of someone's shoe. Zayn seemed to sense my discomfort and stepped up to address the room.

"Okay, I guess you've seen the rumors online," Zayn said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. Everyone looked at him. "But give me a little credit, will you? Is it so bad that I wanted to keep something good to myself for a bit before the whole country found out about it?"

His attempt at easing the tension seemed to work. The family members began to relax a little. I noticed a few of them exchanging begrudging smiles. Now, it was just me feeling tense.

"This is my fiancée, Marigold," Zayn announced, wrapping an arm around me. "Marigold, this is my family. Don't worry. Despite their incredibly rude welcome today, I promise they all have manners and know how to behave in polite society. They're not as sour as they all look right now." He laughed, clearly not bothered at all. "Is someone going to get us a drink or are you just going to stare? Come on, guys, you're making me look bad."

The change in atmosphere was almost immediate. The women of the family, in particular, swarmed around me with a warmth that was surprisingly welcoming. They were eager to hear about the proposal, how long Zayn and I had been together, and how I had managed to tame Zayn, who apparently had a reputation as the wild-card brother.

I found myself explaining our relationship in bits and pieces, trying to provide enough details to satisfy their curiosity. Despite the initial coldness, the family's genuine interest made me feel more at ease. I realized that they weren't as uptight or as judgmental as I had feared. They were just a family trying to understand what had changed for Zayn.

Seeing him with a fiancée was like seeing a monkey with a math book. People were going to have questions.

As the evening wore on, I found myself seated next to Zayn's father, Armand, who was a kind man with a warm smile. He engaged me in conversation, asking about my background and how I had come to meet his son. I told him about my life growing up in a small town and how Zayn and I had found each other.

"We needed each other," I said, feeling a sense of honesty in my words. It was perhaps the most genuine thing I had said about our relationship. "Zayn helped me see the world differently, and I hope I've done the same for him."

Armand nodded thoughtfully. "That's what relationships are about, isn't it? Finding someone who makes you better. Someone who lights you up just by being at your side. It's a rare thing, and if you're lucky enough to find it, you never let it go."

The more I got to know them all, the more relaxed I felt. Everyone was chatting and laughing with each other, much more chilled out than when we'd first arrived. They were a close-knit family who cared deeply for one another. The wealth, it seemed, was merely a backdrop to their genuine affection and concern.

I started to think if I could get through the awkwardness of the night, I might actually like these people. They seemed to be more down to earth than I had initially expected. They were good people. Normal people.

The insane wealth was just a bonus.