Feels Like Falling, page 4
Chapter 7
“Rosie, wake up, and put on the white dress today, okay? You’re going to look like a fucking virgin, even if you’re not one.” My dad stood hovering over the bed, glaring down at me as I flickered the lamp light switch on. What was the time? It wasn’t even 6 a.m. yet.
“What, Dad?” I mumbled, feeling like a teenager. I was too old to be in this position. I needed to get a fucking job, a fucking life.
How had I allowed myself to get to this place? I’d been too weak and too vulnerable all of my life. I’d been one of those people who just did everything she was told.
“I said, you’re going to put on a fucking white dress, today. You’re going to meet your future husband, James.”
I stared at him in hatred. How could this man be my father? Wasn’t I supposed to love him? When I was younger, I’d adored him. I thought he was the most handsome, most wonderful man in the world. And then I’d seen how he’d spoken to my mother, saw the women that he paraded in front of her, not even caring that he was hurting her feelings. And then I’d seen how he’d spoken to me and treated me when I disappointed him. He wasn’t the kind of father I could count upon, a father who loved me and protected me. No, I was just a trophy to him. He was a narcissist through and through, and I prayed to God that he didn’t make it to be the president of the United States. That would be absolutely awful.
“I thought I was going to go shopping for a new dress. I don’t want to wear white.”
“What, so he can know you’re the whore of Babylon?” His words stung. I wasn’t even that promiscuous. I’d slept with fewer than ten guys my entire life.
“Dad, I don’t even know who this guy is. Can we not make some sort of different arrangement?”
“What do you think, Rosie?” His tone softened and he smiled gently at me. It was the smile he’d given me when I was younger and still thought he loved me. “This is what’s best for our family. James is connected. His father supported the last two candidates that were selected by the party for the presidency.”
“What do you mean, supported?”
“I mean millions of dollars in campaign money. Introductions to folks I need to meet.”
“But you’re already successful, Dad. People already support you.”
“Not this level of people.” His eyes narrowed and I could see him thinking. “This level of support could guarantee my spot in the next election.”
“I don’t want to marry a stranger, Dad ... please,” I begged as I sat up.
“There are many things we don’t want in life. Be ready by 11 am. We’re meeting James and his father for lunch.”
“Is Mom coming?” I asked softly, hoping I’d have some support.
“No.” He walked to my door, then paused and looked back at me, and for a few seconds I thought he was going to say something else.
“Edward, there you are.” The high-pitched voice of his secretary Lola filled the hallway and I could hear her heels as she walked down the corridor.
I didn’t need to ask what she was doing there so early. My father turned around and walked out of the room to greet her. He didn’t even bother to close the door and I just stared in disgust when she reached him, kissed him on the lips, and rubbed his crotch through his pants.
“I have no panties on.” She giggled as if she weren’t right outside my door.
Dad looked at me for one brief second before the two of them headed back down the corridor to his office to do heavens knew what. I hated how he paraded his affairs in front of my mom and in the same house, but as far as I knew, she’d never said a word to him about it.
Chapter 8
Have you ever seen a 30-year-old woman in a white prom dress? Do you know how absolutely ridiculous that looks? I looked like a gussied-up duck, trying to pretend to be a swan. My dark hair was curled in curls so tight I looked like an old lady. I had on more makeup than I’d worn since I was a teenager, and I had on the highest heels I’d ever been in. But, of course, I had to do what my Dad asked for. And this was the look he seemed to prefer on me.
Creepy doesn’t even begin to describe it.
“Ready?” he said as I met him in the foyer. He looked as handsome and as cold as ever.
“I’m ready.”
I expected him to say something to me. Oh, you look beautiful Rosie. Or, I like the dress, but, of course, nothing. He just gave me a once-over, then opened the front door, and we walked out. His driver was standing in the driveway, holding the back door of the limo open. My father got in first. He didn’t have to be polite to me. He didn’t have to let me into the back first. Not that I expected him to. There was no pretense between us.
I slid in behind him and the driver closed the door. Dad opened The Wall Street Journal and started reading. So I guessed there was going to be no small talk. I sat there for a few minutes silently fuming before speaking up.
“Are you going to tell me anything about this guy James? Or am I just going to find out about him at lunch?” I asked him after a few minutes, once the driver had started the car and was playing the radio.
“Do you really want to know, Rosie?” Dad put the newspaper down and looked at me, his handsome face stern and annoyed. He didn’t want to be having this conversation with me.
I studied him, trying to comprehend how this man, who was supposed to love me, could treat me with such contempt.
It struck me how false appearances could be. If I didn’t know him personally, I’d think he was a good person. He was handsome. Tall. Successful.
He stood for family values, he was a Christian. He went to church every Sunday. He was the sort of man, if you didn’t know him, you’d want to be around. You’d want to find a man like him. But I knew the real him. It made my heart break inside for me, for my Mom, for all the women who’d been taken in by him, for all the men that were taken in by him, because even men believed the shit that he portrayed about himself as well.
But it was a facade. I didn’t know what had caused my father to be like that, maybe some childhood trauma. He never really spoke about his childhood. But did it even matter? Should he be given a pass for treating me the way that he did? Should he be given a pass for cheating on my mother? It wasn’t for me to decide. I wasn’t God, I couldn’t judge anyone, but I was his daughter. I was his only daughter and he should love me, and he should care about me. He should want the best for me. And this wasn’t the best for me. I knew that in my heart, I knew that in my soul. Yes, I had fucked up. I never should have hired someone to beat up Joey, but did I deserve this? Had what I’d done been so bad?
Maybe. I didn’t know.
I sighed and looked out of the window. This conversation with my Father was going nowhere, and I had nothing else to say to him.
“James’s father is a billionaire,” Dad said, finally. “He owns Draconian Corporation. You may have heard of it.”
“Can’t say that I have,” I muttered, but I turned to look at my Father.
“It’s only one of the biggest and most traded companies on the New York stock exchange.” My father shook his head, “Tell me why I spent $200,000 sending you to the University of Chicago for an economics degree when you know absolutely nothing?”
“I didn’t want to study economics, Dad. You know that.”
“But you did study it! You’d think that you’d at least keep up with the stock market.”
I swallowed hard. I was not going to have this conversation again.
You guys probably are shocked as well, right? That I went to the University of Chicago, one of the most prestigious schools in the United States of America? Yeah, I did. And I even studied economics, one of the hardest majors to be in. And I did well because I was smart. I just didn’t enjoy it, and I didn’t want to do it. I graduated and I got a job working for a company in the accounting department, and it sucked, and it didn’t pay that well, but Dad supplemented my income and that worked out well for me.
In fact, it worked out really for me for a while, and then I met Joey. It felt like the gods were smiling down on me: everything was going according to plan, even though Joey hadn’t been from a successful family, he had a narrative that went well for a politician: hardworking American farm boy, tall, blond and blue-eyed. Who didn’t want a son-in-law like that? He’d win the heart of every woman in America and the trust of every man. But obviously, that hadn’t worked out.
I don’t know if my Dad blamed me for the end of the relationship. I mean, how could he? Joey had a fiancée, and that’s not really something I could control. He blamed me for having Joey beaten up, but given his own unscrupulous behavior, what did he really expect from me?
The fruit doesn’t fall too far from the tree.
“You’re spacing out again, Rosie.” Dad sounded annoyed.
“I was just thinking, Dad.”
“Well, when we get to lunch, you put a smile on your face and you make small talk with James and you let that man think that he is the handsomest guy you’ve ever met in your life. And you pretend that you’re a fucking nun. You hear me?”
“I’m 30 years old, Dad. I’m sure he’s going to realize I’ve had relationships before.”
“He can realize whatever the fuck he wants, but—”
“Okay!” I cut him off, “I’ll be a sweet, innocent little nun. I mean, I did go to Catholic school, didn’t I, Dad?” I gave him a small, fake smile. “I’m just a good little girl. Should I say I’m a born-again Christian, Dad? Shall I say my hymen grew back?” He just glared at me, pissed off.
“Is there anything else I should know about him?” I asked, wanting more information. This was a man I was engaged to be married to, and I knew nothing about him.
“You’ll find out when we get to lunch.” He shook his head, “I’m not talking to you anymore right now. You are being immature. Infantile. And totally and utterly ridiculous. To think I’ve saved you from going to jail, and this is how you speak to me? This is how you act in a situation that could cost me my job?”
“How is this going to cost you your job, Dad? You’re a senator. Me marrying this guy is not going to affect that.”
“You could cost me my future job.” He tapped his fingers against the car seat, a dreamy expression on his face. Sometimes I wondered if he was delusional.
“Oh, you mean as the President of the United States of America?”
His eyes narrowed at the tone in my voice.
How could anyone, for even a second, think that he would be a good president? How could he think he would be a good president? Did he really think that everything he’d done in life could just be swept under the rug? His affairs? The fact that my mother drank every single day to mask her pain? Could an alcoholic really be a first lady? Mom didn’t acknowledge it, and of course, my dad didn’t, but we all knew.
I sighed. It didn’t matter. People didn’t care about the truth. They just cared about the narrative that you told them. Yeah, maybe some reporters would do some research, but they would get paid off by the big machine. Everything would go swimmingly for my dad. It always did. It didn’t matter that my Mom and I were casualties in his attempt to reach higher levels of power.
I didn’t even know why he wanted it, why he cared so much. Did he really want to serve his country? Not really. Did he even want to help his state? I doubted it.
But that was the thing with narcissists and people who wanted to be in power. They didn’t care about the overall picture; they just cared about themselves. He’d do whatever he had to do just to get to that position because it was something he’d always wanted, and no one was going to get in his way.
Not even me. Not even if I had to marry a virtual stranger.
Chapter 9
I’m not going to lie. When I first saw James, I was surprised. Very, very surprised. He was a really good-looking guy, much better looking than I would have guessed.
I looked from him to his father and back again. I could see the resemblance, but James was a much younger and hotter version of his dad. His father looked like the typical old guy with a lot of money. He was wearing a nice suit, had nicely cut silver-gray hair, piercing blue eyes, and a congenial smile. I glanced at his watch—a Rolex. Ostentatious. He had a signet gold ring on his right hand. He was either an ex-college football player or he’d been in a fraternity or was part of some sort of Masonic lodge. Part of the Old Boys’ Club, one way or another.
He smiled at me warmly, and that felt nice. I smiled back at him, trying my best not to make any smart-alec comments. I could play the part when I had to.
I felt a weird sensation in my body as my father and James’s father started talking and drifted over to the side. I looked back at James who was smiling at me, his blue eyes sparkling.
“It’s nice to see you, Rosie, finally.” He gave me a kiss on both cheeks. I noted to myself that he was very polite and he had a nice voice.
“It’s nice to see you too, James.” I studied him, trying not to be too obvious about it. What was wrong with him? Why would he agree to such a marriage? He’d never even seen me before.
“I texted you last night.” His eyes gazed into mine. “I didn’t hear back.”
“Oh yeah, sorry. I fell asleep early.”
“You tend to do that a lot, huh?” I could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn’t believe me, but it wasn’t like I was going to tell him the truth. Maybe he was the one having me followed and already knew, but maybe he wasn’t. Either way, I wasn’t going to tell him that the reason I hadn’t texted him back was that I was in a hotel room with another man.
“You’re more handsome than I thought you were going to be.” I don’t know why I said it. Maybe because I needed to change the subject and because I was hoping for a compliment back.
“Really?” His blue eyes pierced into mine. They were so like his father’s, but they didn’t have the same iciness.
Give it five years, I thought cynically. He was still young.
“How old are you?” I asked him curiously.
“32. And you’re 30, right?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, “I am.”
“And you’re the only child? No, wait, you’re an only daughter.”
“Yeah, I’m the only daughter. My brother, my only brother, he lives in California.”
I looked over to my dad to make sure he wasn’t listening to me. He hated it when I talked about my brother. As far as he was concerned, my brother didn’t exist. I didn’t know how that was going to go over in his run for the presidency. The media would want to know about both of his children.
“What about you?” I asked James. “Youngest, oldest, only?”
“I’m the youngest,” he replied. “I have two older brothers. No sisters.”
“Okay, and why did you agree to this?” I said quietly. Our fathers were chatting and laughing over something and not paying attention to us. I knew I should probably wait until we were alone together, but I couldn’t not ask.
“Me?” He grinned. “Why are you doing this?”
“Oh, no. We’re not going to play this game, are we?”
“What game?” He smirked.
“The ‘Why you?’ ‘No, why you?’ ‘No, you go first,’ ‘No, you go first’ game”
He laughed. “We don’t have to play it if you don’t want to. You can just answer the question.”
“But I asked you the question first.”
“Does it matter who asked the question first?”
“My dad’s making me, if that wasn’t obvious.” I had nothing to lose by telling him the truth.
“Why?”
“If he wanted you to know the answer to that question, I don’t think we’d be in this position right now,” I said with a small smile.
He laughed. “Touché.”
“And you, why did you agree to this?”
“Do you really want to know?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe keep it a secret for now.”
I had enough drama in my life as it was. I didn’t need more on my plate. And I had a feeling that it had to be something big that got a hottie like him into an arranged marriage.
“You’re hot, though.” He looked me up and down. “Those are some really high heels. They look pretty uncomfortable.”
“Oh yeah, have you worn heels? Do you know how uncomfortable they are?”
“No,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not that sort of guy.”
“Not what sort of guy?”
“The sort of guy that wears ladies’ shoes or ladies’ underwear or ladies’ dresses if that’s what you were thinking.”
“Why would I be thinking that?”
“Because that would be a bit of a scandal, even in this day and age. And it might be a reason why I’d agree to marry you.”
“Hey, your choices, your life,” I shrugged. “You do you, boo.”
“I do do me, Rosie, but that’s not one of the things I like to do.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“I do. Shall we have a seat?”
“I thought we were going to wait on our dads?”
“No, I think this time is for us to meet and talk, grab a bite, separate from them while they talk business. You know how it goes.”
“Yeah, I know how it goes all too well.” I looked over at my father, but he was paying absolutely no attention to me. “So shall we go and sit down, then?”
“Yeah, we already have a table right by the windows so you can see the lake.”
“Wow. Don’t tell me you’ve got flowers for me as well?” I batted my eyelashes at him. “I’m going to think this is a very romantic lunch.”
“Of course I have flowers for you. I have the ring as well.”
“The ring?”
“Your engagement ring.”
“Oh …” My heart was thudding now. I suddenly remembered why we were here. This was serious. No matter that he and I had playful banter and he seemed like the sort of guy I would get on with, we were here for a more meaningful purpose. “You didn’t have to get me a ring.”
“Of course you have to have a ring. You can’t be engaged without it, right?”
