Chapter 7

EMILY

The weight of the debutante gown feels suffocating against my skin as I stand in front of the mirror. My reflection makes a mockery of the woman I once thought I would become.

The pure white fabric of the dress drapes elegantly over my form, the intricate lace and beading shimmering in the soft light of the dressing room. But no amount of finery can mask the despair gnawing at my insides. This gown is nothing more than a prison uniform in disguise.

My thoughts turn to Ethan, as they've done so often this last week, recalling his lust filled eyes as he watched me bring myself to orgasm. I've been locked away since that night, so it's been impossible to have any contact with him.

Ethan kept his word—he showed me what life could be like beyond the confines of my home, and I will cherish those few hours with him forever. The memory of our time together is the only thing that gets me through each day.

I glance up at the tiara perched on my head, a glittering crown of diamonds and pearls that serves as a cruel reminder of the life I'm expected to lead. Most debutantes get their tiaras on loan from Harrods, but my father purchased the one I'm wearing. According to my mother, it's a symbol of our family's wealth and status. But to me, it represents a gilded cage, trapping me in a world of duty and obligation.

As a maid fastens a diamond necklace around my neck, the weight of it feels like an enormous chain around my throat, choking off my freedom with every breath I take. It probably cost my father a small fortune, but it symbolizes everything I despise about the life I've been forced to lead.

I turn my gaze away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight of the gaunt figure staring back at me with hollow eyes. This isn't who I am, I remind myself, and this isn't the future I want for myself. But as I step out of the dressing room and into the grand hallway of our family mansion, the weight of my father's expectations bears down on me like a storm leaden sky.

The marbled walls and plush red carpets of our London mansion are a testament to the opulence of my family's wealth. Paintings line the hallways, including portraits of my ancestors staring down at me with silent disapproval. I can't help but notice how sad all the women look in the pictures. Their eyes seem haunted by the weight of their own unfulfilled dreams, and with a sinking heart, I realize this is my future from now on.

My mother walks beside me, her eyes filled with tears of pride as she reminds me of all the protocols and rules I need to follow, but I don't hear a word she says. My head throbs, my temples pounding in protest at what I'm about to go through. A lifetime of duty and obedience stretches out before me like an endless sea of despair.

I grind to an abrupt halt when I see my father standing in front of me.

"Please, Papa. Please don't make me do this." I beg, tears forming in my eyes. "I'll do anything. I promise I'll settle down, but please give me a year. A year to do whatever I want. Maybe study or travel. Let me find myself for just one year."

He has a cruel smirk on his face, and I know he's not moved by my pleas.

"You look pathetic. Remember who you are and your duty. Grow a spine, Emily, and then use it. What man would want you as a wife in this state?"

I flinch at his harsh words.

"I'm sorry, Papa." Instantly, I fall back into line and blink away the tears that are threatening to fall and spoil my makeup, not that it matters to me.

"That's better." My father stands taller. My mother moves to his side, and he takes her arm. They are both dressed elegantly, ready for the Royal introduction and the evening's events. "You will make both me and your mother proud."

After taking a few deep breaths to compose myself, I close my eyes before immediately opening them again at the sound of approaching footsteps. A man I don't recognize appears in front of us. He looks at least fifteen years older than me and is clean shaven and dressed in a designer suit. His face is marked with harsh lines, and in his hand, he carries a bouquet of flowers.

"Emily." My father addresses me. "Meet your husband to be. The Earl of Selsey. You will be married later today after the introduction."

My stomach drops. The world begins to spin around me.

"Marry? My husband to be?" I'm trying to process what my father is saying, but it's not sinking into my brain.

The man hands me the flowers, and I'm shaking so much I struggle to hold onto them. Thankfully, a footman steps forward and takes them from me.

"They are beautiful, My Lord. Emily is very grateful," my mother interjects.

"Shut up, woman," the Earl snaps at my mother. My eyes go wide at his tone and admonishment. "She looks like a gaping fish. That will need to be addressed with some firm discipline in future."

"Of course, My Lord," both my mother and father answer at the same time.

I don't hear anything else they say. All I'm focused on is the word, ‘discipline.'

"W-What do you mean?" I stutter, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You will learn to behave in the manner I expect from my wife, or you will feel the back of my hand."

I turn to look at my parents. I can't believe they are seriously expecting me to marry this man today, or for that matter, any day.

"She will behave," my father reassures the Earl, and with that, I know I'm defeated.

My mask of acquiescence falls into place. This is what I must do. It's the duty of many females in my world, and it's why all the women in those family portraits look so sad. This has been my destiny from the moment I was born.

"The car is here." A shout comes from the front door.

The Earl takes my arm, and I'm led through the grand foyer and outside to where a Rolls Royce is waiting to whisk us away to Buckingham Palace. My heart sinks at the thought of the future that awaits me, the suffocating confines of my life close in around me like a vise. I can barely breath. My feet are moving, but I'm no longer in control of them.

This feels like a waking nightmare.

The Earl releases my hand so I can climb into the waiting car, but before I can step inside, a familiar rumbling sound draws me from my depression. Instinctively, I turn my head toward the purring engine of the approaching motorcycle and catch sight of the man who showed me a brief glimpse of freedom.

Ethan pulls up on his bike. His eyes are locked on mine with such fierce intensity it sends a shiver of excitement coursing through my veins.

"Make a decision, Emily," Ethan calls out, his voice a low growl.

The Earl and my father immediately step closer to me and try to grab me, but they're too late. Without a second thought, I run toward Ethan. My heart is pounding in my chest as he hands me his spare helmet, and hitching up my long dress, I leap onto the back of his bike.

"Emily, come back here," my father yells.

"Never," I shout in return. "Goodbye, Papa, this is the last time you will ever see me," I tell him as I wrap my arms around Ethan and we speed away.

The roar of the engine drowns out the world around us, and I know I've made the right choice. I refuse to be the possession of a man who will beat me and the daughter of parents who will allow him to do it.

I may be leaving behind a world of wealth and privilege, but in exchange, I've found something much more precious—I've found freedom, and Ethan has too.

Where we go from here is something we both get to decide, together.

The wind whips through my hair as Ethan and I ride down Route 66, the open road stretching out before us with its promise of freedom.

We've left behind the shadows of our past. And now we're traveling across the States, just Ethan and me, forging our own path and learning something new every day. I've even started a correspondence course in psychology. Eventually, I want to help other women who've suffered childhoods like mine.

We pull over at the side of the road. I recognize the spot from one of the photos Ethan showed me in the club on the day we met. He slides from the bike and helps me off before handing me a bottle of water. Then retrieving his camera, he starts to click.

Ethan's been enjoying capturing moments of our journey and us. He says he's found a new muse in me, but the truth is we inspire each other. As we travel, we talk about everything and nothing, savoring the simple joy of being out on the road. Every laugh and shared decision is a testament to our love.

Assisted by the unexpected windfall Ethan redirected from my father and the Earl, the Robin Hood Riders MC is thriving under its new President. Ethan couldn't be happier for his brothers, and I know they'll always be important to him. We will return to the club eventually, and there's a part of me that can't wait to be a member of Ethan's biker family.

I'm already proudly wearing a jacket that proclaims I'm Ethan's property, and I don't mind at all. It's the best thing I've ever worn. I can't help but think it's poetic justice that the money meant to secure my possession by one man is funding the club that was once led by the man who now possesses me, heart and soul.

When we left London that day, we sold the tiara and necklace, symbols of a life I never wanted. Their proceeds are now serving a worthier purpose, funding our fresh start in America.

My father, once so powerful, is now bankrupt. Losing his grip on me broke him, and it also allowed my mother to escape their unhappy marriage, but I still can't forgive her for the part she played in my childhood.

The Earl of Selsey, the man who would have made my life a living hell, vanished. His fate was sealed by Ethan's club. I haven't asked any questions, because I don't want to know any details. I just hope his end was very painful. A man like that doesn't deserve any mercy.

"Are you ready to get going?" Ethan asks as he puts his camera back into the storage compartment of our new Harley Davidson. It's a beautiful bike, more suited for comfort than speed.

"Always." I respond.

Leaning forward, I capture his lips in a burning kiss. The passion between us is always intense. Ethan has shown me how to love my body, and I worship his constantly as well.

We both climb back on the bike as the sun begins to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Ethan kicks the bike from its stand, and we speed off toward the distant horizon, leaving our pasts behind and ready to embrace whatever the future holds, together.

THE END