32. Lady in Black

32

I couldn't help but fidget nervously in the car, the entire three-hour drive to Portland.

Chance had asked me to pack an overnight bag, saying that we'd likely be staying with his parents, but that if anything went wrong, he'd be happy to abandon the party and find a hotel. We'd also timed our arrival much later in the evening to limit just how long we'd have to spend at his childhood home.

The problem was that I was fully unequipped and unprepared to meet his parents. Everything was still so new. I had no idea what we were to each other, and neither did Chance. Surely his parents would ask, and we would have no answer.

To further my impending mortification, I only owned the one black dress, which would likely make me look more akin to the waitstaff than the other guests, in their black-tie accouterments. This was a slow-motion disaster in the making and I was helpless to stop any of it.

"My sister can loan you a gown. She has plenty," Chance had offered.

I shook my head in refusal. He didn't know her measurements or mine. All women don't fit into the same clothes. Was he nuts?

"Then tell me what I can do to make you more comfortable. I don't want you to feel out of place. Although I'm sure nobody will say a word."

You could turn around.

I choked out a laugh. "Chance, we're showing up together. They'll be looking, and judging, and gossiping for weeks to come."

"None of them matter." Chance squeezed my hand. "Fuck 'em."

I sighed in exasperation. It wasn't as easy as that. I was allowing him to drive me into the lion's den. I was putting myself on display in front of the type of people who made me want to shrink and become invisible.

It wasn't that I cared about what they thought, exactly, it was that I didn't want to even be around them. I didn't want to risk my fragile and slowly burgeoning self-confidence, which Chance had been nurturing for weeks with small touches, soft smiles, and his quiet, but patient respect for my boundaries.

One snobby look and all of that work could be shattered in an instant. I didn't want it to happen like that, but I had to acknowledge that it would be a possibility.

Pulling into the long driveway, I could see the twinkling lights of the mansion in the distance. Avoiding the line for the valet, Chance pulled around back to the service entrance. It was where I belonged anyway.

"Violet." He grabbed both of my hands after parking and turning off the car. "Look at me," he commanded.

It was hard to ignore him when he used that voice. I felt my cheeks flush as I briefly wondered what it would be like if he used that voice on me in different, more intimate, circumstances.

He squeezed my hands, and I involuntarily met his gaze.

"You are the smartest person I know—"

I guffawed.

Chance clenched his jaw. "I don't care that you don't believe me. I know what I see in front of me. You are smart, beautiful, sexy, and you're mine ." He emphasized the last word, his eyes searing into mine with dark intensity.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I'd never had anyone lay such a claim on me before. I wasn't sure if I loved or hated the way it made my stomach flip to hear him say that. Maybe both.

"Whatever happens in there, whoever is beyond those doors, it doesn't matter— they don't matter. Only we matter. Do not let them rattle you. They don't hold a candle to you. None of them know shit about classical history, or care about the education of their children, other than the prestige of the school, and none of them believe in me like you do. So fuck 'em, right?"

He nodded toward me, encouraging me.

"Fuck 'em," I said in a small voice.

Chance shook his head, smirking. "Oh little muse, you can do so much better than that."

I bit my lip upon hearing his nickname for me again. "Fuck 'em," I said with a bit more force.

"Louder," he ordered.

"Fuck 'em!" I practically shouted in his face.

He grabbed my face, pulling me in for a bruising kiss. Showing me with his mouth and tongue how proud he was to call me his, proving that we could weather this storm.

I was finding it harder and harder to second-guess myself when Chance overwhelmed my senses and took control. Consequently, I was finding it easier and easier to let go when I was around him.

And it wasn't just my thoughts that were loosening, but as the days passed, the more I thought about what had happened in the hotel. How he'd touched me and how he'd made me practically combust. I wanted it to happen again. I needed it to happen again.

Everything he did got me worked up. I felt the liquid desire pooling at my core and had to stop myself from rolling my hips against nothing as the console separated me from Chance, and I wasn't about to crawl in his lap, parked in a car, behind his parents' mansion, where anyone could happen upon us.

Finding it hard to ignore the thought that had just occurred to me about being discovered by a wayward partygoer, I reluctantly parted from Chance.

If he was trying to distract me from my anxiety spiral over what was to come, damn it if it didn't work like a charm.

"Fuck 'em all," Chance panted, resting his forehead against mine, before placing a soft kiss on the tip of my nose.

I thought I knew what to expect when it came to Amanda because I had seen a few photos of her while stalking Chance, prior to our original confrontation and my discovery of his own stalking. But the young woman absolutely took my breath away.

Her blonde hair was expertly twisted into an updo with elegant curled tendrils framing her face. She was dripping with ruby jewelry, and I didn't even ask if they were real, too scared for her to confirm they were, let alone mention anything about how much they might have cost.

She was dressed in a striking red silk dress. And while the front appeared to be high-necked and modest, when she turned, she revealed a cowl back that swept dangerously low, skimming just the top of her rear. She was tall and wispy, and had the perfect figure to pull off such a stunning look.

Amanda met us at the back door and ushered us inside quickly, past some staff scurrying around. But everyone was so busy with their duties, they didn't spare us a glance.

"I'll bring her back to you soon," Amanda told Chance as she looped her arm through my elbow.

"Wait. What?" My head swung back and forth between Chance and Amanda, both sporting devilish smirks and the same mischievous blue-grey gaze.

"Chance said you needed a dress, silly." Amanda tugged me toward the back stairs.

"But you're so much taller than me," I argued. "Chance?" I called out to him to save me, but he only waved his fingers, smiling as he disappeared around the corner.

"I've got the perfect dress, and it will work just fine with your height," Amanda assured me as she dragged me up the stairs, which opened up into a wide and bright hallway with pristine marble floor tiles, immaculate large sideboards dotting the walls every so often, with massive flower arrangements taking up the entirety of the table tops, and chandeliers glittering above.

I wanted to put up more of a fight, truly I did, but I found myself surprisingly speechless as I stared at the ostentatious opulence surrounding me. I couldn't believe that my Chance had grown up here.

Whoa. Since when had he become my Chance?

"I'll be fine in what I'm wearing," I mumbled as Amanda pulled me into what I assumed was her bedroom, as I was finally able to see signs of an actual person inhabiting the space.

"Let me just show you what I have, and if you like it, great. If you don't, then you can go back downstairs," Amanda offered. "Chance mentioned you were worried, and I have so many gowns. Dad only lets me wear them once for appearance's sake. Normally I donate most at the end of the season, so you're not putting me out," she prattled as she walked into an enormous walk-in closet.

I didn't follow her. I was instead fixated on my scuffed and worn heels.

"Violet?" Amanda peeked out of the closet. "Come in here. Don't be scared. I don't bite." She smiled sweetly, and it reminded me of Chance a little too much. I thought maybe I should be afraid.

"This is the one I was thinking of." Amanda pulled a black velvet, off-the-shoulder, A-line gown from her rack, where dozens were hung. "It's tea-length on me, so it should go to the floor on you, and it has a lace-up corset in the back, so we should be able to make it fit snug. What are you…a C-cup?" She tilted her head, staring at my chest.

"On a good day." I frowned.

Amanda only giggled. "You'll have to forgo a bra, but I'm sure Chance won't mind."

"What if I mind?" I deadpanned.

Amanda laughed again, shaking her head, as if she had expected my attitude, and was amused that it was exactly as Chance had probably reported to her. "Strip, please," she commanded.

I swallowed hard, still staring at my shoes nervously.

"Are they uncomfortable?" She followed my gaze, misunderstanding my frustration.

"No, just—they're not nice enough for the dress," I admitted, feeling my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"Nobody will notice, trust me. Besides, I think the dress will be long enough to cover them. I'm afraid we're different shoe sizes, although Mom might have some gifted shoes stowed away in some bedroom," Amanda offered.

"I'm fine," I said to reassure myself just as much to pacify Amanda.

Before I had the chance, she was tugging my dress roughly over my head. I cupped my hands over my breasts when she got to my bra clasp before I could get a word of protest out.

"So you and my brother, huh?" Amanda finally asked what I had been waiting for. And she was going to be the easiest conversation of the evening, so I needed to buck up quickly.

"I guess." I about smacked myself in the head when that was all I could muster.

Amanda smiled as she pooled the dress on the floor, making room in the middle for me to step through. "Just so you know, I don't think I've ever seen or heard him happier," she offered as she pulled the dress up, tucking the bodice under my fingers and making her way to the corset ties at the back. She was right, the dress just skimmed the floor on my petite frame.

"Has he mentioned Ashley?" Amanda's tone was suddenly wary.

"Was she the one who cheated on him?" I asked. Chance had never mentioned an ex by name, but I remembered him commiserating with me about how being cheated on was a special kind of torture.

"Yeah." Amanda scowled. "I wasn't sure if he'd get over what she did to him. I don't think he was in love with her at the end, but he never expected she would step out on him without having the decency to break things off."

"How long were they together?" I ran my fingers over the ruched velvet bodice that crisscrossed over my chest, showing off the perfect amount to make me feel feminine without being worried about being seen as too revealing by the likely conservative crowd that was milling about beneath us.

"Four years. But she cheated on him for half the time, so I don't even know if it counts." Amanda tugged on the corset strings, almost pulling me back with her. "All the while, she was trying to mold him into this perfect robot version of what she wanted in a husband. I never liked her."

"That must have been hard for both of you."

Amanda fastened the tie at the base of my spine, stepping around to give me a once-over. "You've met him. He doesn't always listen to reason."

I snorted a laugh. I'd pushed him away for months, and he kept pursuing me anyway. He was stubborn to a fault, but I found it difficult not to see that as an endearing quality in Chance.

"I like your hair and makeup. You have a very natural and elegant beauty, so I'm glad you didn't do anything too dramatic tonight." Amanda tucked a tendril of my light brown hair behind my ear.

I had only put on mascara and a rosy pink lip gloss that smelled like vanilla.

"There's something missing though." Amanda turned and walked to her dresser, returning a moment later with a small jewelry box.

"Oh no—I couldn't." I waved my hands. I'd fight her on this. I didn't want to wear anything expensive and risk losing it.

Amanda smiled conspiratorially. "Afraid you don't have a choice. Chance asked me to pick this up for you weeks ago." She opened the box to reveal a simple gold solitaire necklace.

Weeks ago…

I gulped. "I can't. It probably cost more than my student loan debt," I pleaded with her.

"It didn't cost anything." Amanda was already pulling the necklace from the box.

"What?"

"I got it from a security deposit box—it belonged to my grandmother." She looped the necklace around me, ignoring my jaw on the ground.

"That's worse!" I exclaimed, eyes wide. "That's so much worse, Amanda!"

She just laughed. Amanda was much too similar to her brother. They both seemed entirely too amused by making me uncomfortable.

Stepping back once more, Amanda appraised me. "I hate to admit it, but he does have excellent taste." She admired the necklace.

I felt like it was burning my skin. I was terrified I'd lose it. How could he trust me with a family heirloom like it was nothing!?

"Hmm…" Amanda hummed.

"No," I stated.

"You didn't even hear my idea!" she argued.

"It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, it's a no."

Amanda turned and rummaged around a drawer in her closet for a moment before returning victoriously with something small pinched between her fingers. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a vintage hairpin, adorned with mossy gemstones artfully scattered across the length of the pin.

"They're green sapphires," Amanda answered my unspoken question. Taking a front piece of my hair, she twisted it in her fingers and used the pin to secure it at the side of my head. "I won't be argued with; they match your eyes perfectly, and I've had the pin for ages and never worn it. Green isn't quite my shade. I'd much rather you have it."

When she was done, Amanda pushed me toward the full-size mirror mounted to the wall next to the large ornate door, where I got the first real look at myself. I felt the air leave my lungs in an audible whoosh .

How was it possible that in a matter of minutes and with three simple items, she had completely transformed me into a different being entirely? I felt like a stranger was staring back at me in my reflection, not the mousey and diminutive history teacher from Montgomery.

Sensing my awe at her work, Amanda smiled behind me. "Chance won't know what hit him."

I met her gaze in the mirror. "And what about your parents?" I asked nervously.

"You'll make a good first impression, but they'll know this is borrowed." She tugged on the dress. "Mom picks out all my gowns." Her tone was conciliatory. "But all that should matter is that you make Chance happy, and I know that you do."

I sighed. "I'm not sure that will be enough for them."

"Why do you say that?" Amanda's brow furrowed.

"Because Chance was never enough for them," I replied as if it was the most obvious thing.

Amanda's shoulders slumped. "I won't defend them, but I think they did the best they could. Some people just aren't cut out for parenthood."

I nodded, my eyes again falling to the floor.

"Do you love him?"

My eyes shot to Amanda's.

I was frozen.

She gave me a soft smile.

Love?

That was a big fucking word. It had already been such a battle to get as far as we had. That was a large enough step that I hadn't even fit love into the realm of possibilities. It was far too complicated to bring that into the picture so soon.

"But you'll take care of him?"

I nodded emphatically.

Her smile grew, and she slipped her hand in mine. "That's more than anyone's done for him before."

She opened the door, ushering me outside. Our heels clicked as we strode down the hall, going the opposite direction from the way we'd first come.

"You ready for this?" Amanda asked, just before we turned the corner.

"I have to be—for him."

As we began our slow descent of the grand staircase, all eyes in the room suddenly swinging to us, she squeezed my hand in solidarity and whispered, "I'm glad he found you."