Chapter 5
Rosalind
"Does it matter? You already gave them five years. What's a little bone marrow between family?"
"Stop it."
"Why? Someone needs to tell you the truth. Your cousin completely played you, your fiancé treated you like a piece of furniture, and your parents just tried to sell you for parts. And through it all, you smiled and took lessons on napkin folding."
"I said stop—"
"You had real dreams—designing buildings, making something that actually mattered. And you threw it all away to learn about proper place settings. For what? A guy who wouldn't even touch you?"
I lunged across the table at him. The world tilted—too much whiskey, too much truth—and I would have fallen if he hadn't caught me. For a moment, we were frozen like that, me half-sprawled across the table, him holding my wrists.
"Feel better?" he asked mildly.
"I feel like I'm gonna throw up."
"Probably." He helped me back to my seat. "But not from the alcohol."
I slumped in the booth, suddenly exhausted. "Why are you so cruel?"
"Because you've had five years of lies dressed up as kindness. How's that working out for you?"
I slumped in the booth, suddenly exhausted. "I guess I should go home," I said quietly. "Deal with whatever's waiting for me there."
"I'll drive you," he said simply.
I looked at him through my drunken haze, something nagging at me.
"Beckett... why?"
"Why what?"
"All of this." I gestured vaguely at the bar, at him, at everything. "We have a contract. Nothing more. So why the rescue? Why the drinks?"
He was quiet for a long moment, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. When he finally spoke, his voice was thoughtful. "You know what I learned in the Mediterranean?"
"That olive oil's a gold mine?"
A corner of his mouth twitched. "That drowning people will drag down anyone who tries to save them. It's not malicious. It's instinct. Pure survival."
"And I'm drowning?" The words came out more bitter than I intended.
"No." He met my eyes directly. "You're learning to swim. There's a difference."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Doesn't it?" He signaled for the check. "Maybe I just don't like watching people drown. Bad for business."
"Everything's business with you, isn't it?"
"Speaking of business..." He leaned back, that dangerous smile playing at his lips again. "You should probably stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're trying to figure me out. Like there's something worth finding." His voice dropped, became almost lazy. "Remember rule three, Rosalind. It exists for a reason."
"You're such an ass," I said.
I'd been staring at the ceiling for hours, sleep nowhere to be found, when my phone's shrill ring cut through the silence. Paige's name flashed on the screen—perfect timing for my restless night.
"Rosalind!" Paige's voice crackled with fury. "That absolute piece of shit Calloway and that backstabbing cousin of yours, Hannah! I just heard from my mom who heard from... doesn't matter! They're disgusting!"
"I know, Paige," I replied, my voice flat and weary. "I know all of it."
"What do you mean, you know? Rosalind, they're saying he—"
"He wanted my bone marrow for Hannah as the price for marrying me," I cut in. "And when I said no, my parents... they said it was a fair deal."
"What?" Paige was momentarily shocked into silence. "Your parents said WHAT?"
I told her everything—Calloway's ultimatum, my parents' betrayal, and finally, my hasty marriage.
"Married?!" Paige exploded. "You did WHAT?! To WHO? Wait... is he one of Calloway's crowd? Oh, please tell me you married one of his enemies! That would be epic!"
"You've been watching too many revenge shows, Paige," I said, a ghost of a smile crossing my lips. "He's just some guy I met. Used to work on ships or something, I think, before he ended up at one of their companies, apparently. A nobody, really."
"A nobody? Works for them?" Paige sounded disappointed, then worried. "Rosalind, are you sure that's smart? Calloway could destroy his life, and yours too!"
"Mr. Montgomery... he probably wouldn't let it go that far," I said carefully, thinking of the family patriarch. "And Calloway will probably just forget about me now. I hope."
"Speaking of the Montgomery family," Paige's voice softened. "Does Mr. Everett know? Oh, Rosalind, he's gonna be devastated. He absolutely loves you."
A fresh wave of guilt washed over me. Everett Montgomery had always been kind to me—kinder than his grandson had ever been. He'd supported our engagement, had even argued with Calloway on my behalf multiple times.
"I know," I admitted. "I have to tell him. Soon. Better he hears it from me than through gossip."
"Want me to come with you?" Paige offered.
"No. This is something I need to handle myself."