Chapter 15

“Come on, Silas.” I tug the leash, and the adorable husky cocks his head at me, his tongue sticking out before continuing on his merry way.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead as I stroll down the streets of SoHo with my friends and dog in tow. The sweltering heat mid-June almost feels like I’m held captive inside a sauna, unable to breathe, to think, to do anything other than to bear with the circumstances.

Like the joke that’s my life these days.

Silas wags his tail and chases the shadows twisting under the glaring sunlight. He has been a bright spot in my life ever since I stole him from the shelter. Luckily, Taylor and I weren’t caught, and no one asked about the little guy after he disappeared.

For the past two and a half months, I’ve called him many names, from Little Terror to Ranger to Scout, but nothing has stuck. He has never responded to any of them, usually opting to destroy another cushion or chew on the wallpaper of the SoHo apartment I share with Millie.

But the other day, after returning home from that infuriating meeting with Maxwell at The Menagerie, I stomped into the apartment and muttered, “Damn you, Silas! What was I thinking, liking you for even a moment?”

The little terror sat obediently in front of me, his posture picture perfect, like he was modeling for a husky calendar.

He liked the name.

Good. I’ll name my one-eyed husky after the fraud who almost stole my heart. And then I’ll make him go fetch…and fetch again .

“I can’t believe you kept this from us for months!” Taylor scrunches her nose, her skull nose ring glimmering under the harsh sun. She’s not in a good mood—her nose piercings are like mood rings for her.

Grace nods beside her, her eyes narrowing at me. She may have said the same thing multiple times this week in our group chat.

“And we had to find out… by accident , at my graduation dinner, no less. Were you ever planning to tell us?” Millie walks in front of me and turns around. Her hands are on her waist and she looks pissed—rightfully so.

I sigh and draw the group into the shade offered by the awning of the stucco building next to us. We’re shopping for my wedding in a little over three months. As expected, with the Anderson wealth, most of the wedding planning is done, with vendors begging to be part of our celebrations, some even offering their services for free.

Today, in particular, we’re shopping for jewelry and picking up something His Majesty has ordered me to retrieve, based on his terse email I received yesterday.

Belle,

I saw this online and thought of you. A gift to seal our contract. Go to this address to pick it up. Don’t think too much of it. It means nothing .

Maxwell

I growl under my breath—the infuriating, perplexing man who gives me whiplash.

I can’t believe I’m getting married…to a man who has refused to see me since that disastrous meeting at The Menagerie, when he bulldozed over me, making all the decisions unilaterally like a misogynistic caveman.

Just like my parents, my horrible boss, and other authority figures in my life.

The thought has me knotting my hands onto the hem of my dress.

He’s the complete antithesis of the charming and mysterious Silas from the race.

“Well? What’s your excuse?” Taylor prods.

I had been working up my courage to tell my friends about my arranged marriage when everything came to a head at Millie’s college graduation dinner, when Maxwell was forced to be in the same room as me and Linus blurted out our arrangement in front of everyone.

Needless to say, the girls have not been happy with me.

“I wanted to. I really did. I was going to,” I mumble, my responses sounding pathetic even to my ears.

“You know, I don’t care you didn’t tell us.” Taylor squats down and pets Silas’s fur. Silas rolls over belly up and wiggles on the patch of grass on the sidewalk. “I just want to know if he’s coercing you into this shit. Do I need to beat him up or something, because half-bro or not, I will.”

Millie snorts. This is on brand for our hold-no-prisoners, badass ballerina, even though I find it hard to imagine her tall, elegant frame beating up someone as strong and solid as Silas.

Maxwell, dammit. Maxwell.

“He didn’t coerce me.” I sigh, looking around the street, mostly devoid of people on this late afternoon. “I’m going to tell you girls something, but you can’t repeat it to anyone else.”

The girls huddle closer and I briefly recap the conversation with my parents, my unfortunate health news in the fertility department, and my deal with Maxwell.

I keep the magical hours of my time with Silas to myself.

It feels sacred—a secret I want to hold inside my heart .

Grace’s eyes widen into the size of dinner plates. “You what! But why would Maxwell want something like this? He doesn’t need an arranged marriage. The man is a billionaire!”

It’s something I still haven’t figured out yet, and it certainly doesn’t help that the man in question doesn’t want to talk to me. He can have any woman he wants. Why would he subject himself to something as archaic as an arranged marriage?

“He said it was because Fleur wanted a stake in the premiere fashion couture house in America. That’s an industry they don’t have their hands in.”

It doesn’t sit right with me. There are plenty of ways to achieve that without this arrangement.

Millie purses her lips, no doubt thinking the same thing. Suddenly, she gasps and tugs both Taylor’s and Grace’s arms, pulling them closer.

She murmurs, “Do you think it’s because of you know what?”

“What you know what?” I ask, but they shush me.

Grace and Taylor’s mouths drop open and Taylor shoves Millie on the side. How this woman is one of the top ballerinas in the country has me questioning my eyesight sometimes.

“I bet it is. The entire family believes it to be real,” Grace whispers.

“What’s real?”

The three of them ignore me, apparently clued in on something I’m not privy to.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on? I’m marrying the man. I deserve to know!”

The girls look at each other, passing silent messages. Millie nods and Grace turns to Taylor.

Taylor shrugs. “She deserves to know. She’s joining the family soon.”

Millie turns back to me and says, “I found this out recently from Ryland. Apparently, their family is cursed. Something about the women the eldest sons love and marry will die an untimely death.”

The cold sweat beading on my back has nothing to do with the summer heat .

“A curse?” I shake my head, my pulse quickening. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope. I wish Millie was making shit up, but they told us a few months after we learned that our biological dad is Linus.” Taylor picks the black nail polish off her nails. “That’s why there aren’t any women in the Anderson family, except Lana and, of course, Grace and me.”

She looks up, her brow arched almost to her hairline. “Grace doesn’t believe it, but I think there are many things in the world we don’t understand. Life, death, where we come from and where we go when we leave this earth. I’m on the fence, but not ruling it out as the truth.”

“And because of the curse, it’s rumored a lot of the Andersons end up in arranged marriages…to avoid falling in love but to get heirs. Something about heirs being required in the curse,” Millie supplies.

I strain a smile. What on earth is this crap? “This is a curse we’re talking about, something that has no scientific basis. Come on, girls. I don’t even need to know the details. This is ridiculous .”

It has to be.

Silas brushes himself against my ankle and I look down, finding his lone eye staring at me intently, his tongue not sticking out, tail not wagging.

He looks somber.

I flinch as the sweat drips down my back and a chill crawls up my spine.

This is ridiculous. Insanity. It may be my year of yeses—a new attitude and all that—but I won’t lose my common sense.

Wiping my sweaty palms on my navy sundress, I shake my head at my best friends. “Well, I don’t believe it. Someone will have to give me cold hard facts before I believe any of it.”

Grace suddenly grins. “You know, this means we’re going to be sisters for real!”

“Oh my God, you’re right! That is, if Ryland and I…” Millie’s voice trails off, her face flushed.

“Oh shut up. That man is crazy about you. You might as well be married.” Taylor grins.

Warmth flutters through me as I look at my best friends. Sisters. I like that idea.

Blowing out a breath, I turn around to look at my reflection in the window of the shop behind me. I’m sure I look crazy with my hair sticking to my sweaty skin and the makeup melting off my face.

I freeze at what I see inside the window display.