Stealing the Groom

Twenty Four

XXIV: Deception

BEFORE I ESCAPED to Italy, I lived in this surreal world of glamour. I dinned the delicacies and drank the wine. I wore the best clothes and received an exceptional education in the finer things; I swam in the pools of elegance, relishing the sweet bliss of luxury.

But the illusion soon faded. The shocking realization of my world's suffocating demeanor hit me, leaving me trapped as the waters of wealth rose higher and higher until they flooded my lungs. But by the time that happened, it was too late; their claws were already imbedded into me far too deep. I was born with more than just a silver spoon -- no I had a solid gold bassinet lined with vintage lace and rich satins. 

I was a heiress, and with it came the membership into society. The rules of deception were already ingrained into my mind, and so as I sat dinning with my family of leeches swirling the stem of my wine glass the way I'd been taught, I kept a small smile etched onto my face. Even though all I wanted to do was go running for the hills, I stayed in place, sipping and savoring the scent of an aged red.

The viand, an oven-baked Black Sea bass lightly sprinkled with syrah sauce, was marvelous yet I couldn't force down more than a few bites. I felt sick to my stomach every time my eyes wondered over to where Max and Simone sat. She was smiling and laughing, completely oblivious to the near palpable tension between her fiance and I. And to make matters worse Lilian and Byron insisted on making small talk with me. They seemed intent on keeping the chatter light, as if to not venture into forbidden waters. Not so much for Max and Simone's sake, but for mine, I realized when Lily expertly maneuvered the conversation away from my lacking presence in the family. 

"So Elle, may I call you Elle?" I raised an eyebrow at Max but nonetheless graciously nodded. "Why haven't I had the pleasure of meeting before now?"

"Oh darling, you'd do well not to question my sister and her secrecy. She's private, we all respect that." 

"Perhaps you're right Simone, but can anyone blame me for being intrigued?"

"If we told you," I said with a knowing look, "then we'd have to kill you."

The challenge in those carmel eyes spoke volumes as they locked with mine. "They say that when you wed, one not only commits to the bride but to her entire family. Isn't that right, Byron? I've had a run with Pappi Miles before." Laughter filled the room at the mention of Lillian's widowed father. Apart from Grandmother, Byron's mother, Pappi Miles is the only no-bullshit member of the family.  

When their humor died down, Max flashed them a dashing smile and said, "Well, is anyone going to let me smell the dirty Mercer laundry? We will be family in a week and a half's time, after all." 

My grip subconsciously tightened on my glass at the mention of the wedding. In ten days Max would be married to my sister, and the thought caused a vicious ripple to pierce through my heart. My mother laughed and nodded. "Maxton is right. Simone, tell him about our trip to Minsk! Oh, how I fell in love with Belarus." 

As Lilian and Simone enthusiastically delineated the events of our family vacation when she and I were just children, I tipped my glass in Max's direction. A small smile broke out on my lips as he mouthed, "Well played."

We may not be the type of family you see on the cover of a Hallmark card but we keep one another's secrets, even if it's just to save our own skin. And even when Max becomes a part of the Mercer clan, I will never be a secret they'll be keen to divulge. Because airing my dirty laundry has the power to break Lilian and Byron's perfectly rehearsed facade.

 "THANK YOU FOR having us, dear," Lilian said as she finished the last of her wine. "Dinner was divine."

"Of course, Mrs. Mercer. This impromptu get-together was rather nice."