Bound | H.S.

Chapter 3

☆☆☆

Mother tugged at the dress Father had chosen for the occasion. For the meat show, as Gianna called it. No matter how much Mother tugged though, the dress didn't get any longer.

I stared at myself in the mirror uncertainly. I'd never worn anything that revealing. The black dress was clinging to my butt and waist, and ended at my upper thighs. The top was a glittery golden bustier with black tulle straps.

"I can't wear that, Mother."

Mother met my gaze in the mirror. Her hair was pinned up. It was a few shades darker than mine. She was wearing a floor-length elegant dress. I wished I was allowed something that modest.

"You look like a woman." She whispered.

I cringed. "I look like a hooker."

"Hookers can't afford a dress like that." Father's mistress had clothes that cost more than some people spent on a car.

Mother put her hands on my waist. "You have a wasp waist, and the dress makes your legs look very long. I'm sure Harry will appreciate it."

I stared down at my cleavage. I had small breasts, even the push-up effect of the bustier couldn't change that. I was a fifteen-year-old dressed up to look like a woman.

"Here." Mother handed me five-inch black heels. Maybe I'd reach Harry's chin when I wore them. I slipped into them.

Mother forced her fake smile onto her face and smoothed down my long hair. "Hold your head high. Fiore Cavallaro called you the most beautiful woman of Chicago. Show Harry and his entourage that you are more beautiful than any women in New York too. After all, Harry's knows almost all of them." The way she said it I was sure she'd read the articles about Harry's conquests as well, or maybe Father had told her something.

"Mother." I said hesitantly, but she stepped back.

"Now go. I'll come after you, but this is your day. You should enter the room alone. The men will be waiting. Your father will present you to Harry and then we'll all come together in the dining room for dinner." She'd told me this dozens of times already.

For a moment, I wanted to take her hand and beg her to accompany me, but instead I turned and walked out of my room. I was glad that my mother had forced me to wear heels in the last few weeks.

When I arrived in front of the door to the fireplace lounge on the first floor in the west wing, my heart was beating in my throat. I wished Gianna was at my side, but Mother was probably warning her to behave right now. I had to go through this alone. Nobody was supposed to steal the show from the bride-to-be.

I stared at the dark wood of the door and considered running away. Male laughter rang out behind it, my father and the Boss. A room filled with the most powerful and dangerous men in the country and I was supposed to go in.

A lamb alone with wolves.

I shook my head. I needed to stop thinking like that. I'd made them wait too long already.

I gripped the handle and pressed down, then I slipped in, not yet looking at anyone as I closed the door. Gathering my courage, I faced the room. And as I did so, I realized that conversation had died. Was I supposed to say something?

I shivered and hoped they couldn't see it. My father looked like the cat that got the cream. My eyes sought Harry and his piercing stare rendered me motionless. I held my breath. He put down a glass with a dark liquid with an audible clank. If nobody said something soon, I'd flee the room. I quickly scanned the faces of the gathered men.