This couldn't be happening.
I didn't want to be afraid anymore, but this whole situation had sailed way past scary, and straight into some eighteen hundred's arranged marriage.
I loved South, but if I let this family force me into marrying him, who knew what they'd make me do next? Dictate how many children we had? How we named them? I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, wanting to scream over the throbbing pain in my palm.
Had I become a marionette? Puppet strings pulled until South and I were staged in a way that best suited the Tenney name, and Les's secret business dealings.
I was right back to being fake. I wanted to be so much more than the Yacht Club girl, or the daughter of an Admiral and a doctor, or whatever else people thought I was.
I wanted to be the kind of girl who solved crimes and caught the bad guy. Last night, standing inside that musty speakeasy, I vowed to get back at Les Tenney and make him pay for all the horror he caused. But now, trapped inside this gilded cage, I didn't know if I could.
I needed... help.
Once Ji Woo and Les were gone, and the bedroom door was closed, I spun around, bare feet padding over cold wooden floors, as I made my way towards the pile of suitcases arranged neatly in the corner of the room.
"If you need something, I'll be more than happy to get it for you, Miss Isley," Agatha said in her firm yet kind voice.
I ignored her, intent on finding my cell phone. I needed to talk to my sister. She would know what to do. Lydie always knew what to do.
Despite the number of people following me, brandishing cups of steaming hot green tea and yellow measuring tapes, I'd never felt more alone. Angry tears were clinging to my lashes, and an ache was building in the back of my throat.
I pushed aside two rolling suitcases, searching for my small clutch.
Where the fuck was my purse?
A dull memory throbbed beside the pain in my heart and my hand, and I remembered stuffing it inside one of the suitcases last night—but couldn't remember which one. So, I sank onto my knees in frustration, angrily pulling on the first zipper I saw. Why was this so hard? Why was everything so damn difficult to do with shaking hands and a million thoughts racing through my mind?
I just needed to call Lydie.
The suitcase spilled open, and all the mementos I'd packed from the various cardboard boxes of my childhood tumbled onto the floor. Every secret note and picture I couldn't bear to part with laid bare.
I dug around fruitlessly, searching until my hands and breath stilled.
Oh god.
"Miss Isley?" asked one voice.
"Camilla? What do you need?" came another.
I ignored them.
My fingers traced the outline of the picture frame I must have clutched to my chest a thousand times. The photo of Lydie I kept on my bedside table.
I pulled it from my bag, sitting back on my heels.
My heart might have skipped a beat as I stared into my sister's bright eyes, and all of a sudden, I realized I couldn't call her.
I'd never done that before—forgotten that she was dead.
My sister was smiling back at me from behind the dusty glass, her memory forever frozen in time. Tears splattered the glass.
"Oh, Lydie," I choked out. My vision blurring with tears and a million emotions I didn't have names for.
I'd jumped out of a plane and climbed a mountain, but somehow having my agency ripped away by this family was scarier. I had to be strong, but what did being strong look like?
Agatha's cool hand landed on my shoulder. "We must finish the fitting, Miss Isley."
I shook my head, and two more fat tears rolled down my cheeks.
Behind me, I heard shuffling before the door open once again. Besides agency, it would seem privacy had been taken away from me, too. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer to my sister that no one else was coming in to deliver any more news.
But, it wasn't Mr. or Mrs. Tenney. South's deep voice cut through the room, barking out an order like a man taking control of the situation. "Everyone, get out. Right now."
I turned to find him holding the door open and pointing a finger into the hallway. The way his dark brows were smashed together coupled with the look of fury on his face brokered no argument from the staff. I watched black and white uniformed staff members tiptoe past South with a feeling of hopelessness.
"I'll be right outside if you need me, miss," Agatha said quietly before she too left the room.
Then the room was empty, save for the man who attended South last night.
"Sir," the tall, well-groomed attendant began. Looking almost bored with this situation. "Just so you're aware, I've hung your uniform in the bathroom. The family schedule notes that you and your father will depart the naval base at ten forty-five to accompany your mother and Miss Isley to Sunday mass. Should I add a suit to your bag? Or would you prefer to go in uniform as your father does?"
Of course, the family schedule. Each minute of my life was going to be budgeted on some calendar. I wondered if Connor was the one typing it up under Les' instruction.
How stupid had I been to trust him? How naive had I been to believe Connor was actually a good guy?
I watched South fix a hard look on the man standing in front of him. As upset as I was, South looked downright murderous. "Kim, excuse my language, but you need to get the fuck out."
"Of course, sir."
"And do not let anyone in."
Then the door was closed, and South and I were alone once again.
South ran his hands through his tousled hair, worry creasing the lines of his forehead, before he slowly made his way over to me.
My attention drifted back to the picture frame, embarrassed for crying and not sure why.
"Look at me, Camilla."
His voice came soft and gentle. It wasn't a demand, but I could hear the urgency in his tone. I couldn't lift my eyes. How could I look at him and tell him I didn't want to be his wife, at least, not like this.
"Camilla, please," South said, setting his hand on my cheek. His thumb wiping away fresh tears. "Just look at me."
Instead of meeting his steady gaze, I let my forehead press against his warm chest, and South wrapped his arms around me. We sat for a moment like that, breathing together in silence until the coldness of the house and the urgent chiming of another set of bells demanded we break apart.
I blotted my eyes with the back of my silky sleeve.
"This is all a game to him. Okay? It's just a game. He wants us to play by his rules. But we're not going to do that."
His thumb was under my chin, guiding my attention to his face. There was so much sadness in his eyes, more than I'd ever seen before.
"We aren't getting married, Camilla." I watched him swallow hard, his jaw working. "I'll make sure this whole engagement thing is canceled. That wasn't part of the deal we made. No one is going to make me get married. Or you. So, don't worry about it."
An odd sensation washed over me, and my body went rigid. I might not want to be forced into marrying him, but it also hurt knowing he didn't want to marry me.
"Yeah, okay," I said meekly.
South stared into my eyes, and I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. Was I the girl who he wanted to start a life with, or was I the one who he'd given everything up for and was beginning to regret that decision?
I'd let South Tenney's passion swallow me whole. Everything I'd ever wanted in life had been replaced with him and his family.
After a moment, South helped me to my feet, and walked me over to the bed. Pulling back the covers and gesturing for me to get back inside the warmth of the bed.
"Aren't we supposed to get fitted?" I asked him.
South shook his head. "No. I'm putting a stop to all the clothes and the people barging in. You need stitches, and rest."
I eased onto the mattress while he walked towards the ensuite bathroom. Slipping out of black boxer briefs and pulling on white ones. I watched him with my lip between my teeth as I pulled the covers up.
"What about breakfast?" I asked. Thinking of Ji Woo and her trays of sparkling engagement rings.
South was shrugging on a tight white t-shirt before grabbing his freshly pressed summer white uniform shirt and doing up the buttons. His gold SEAL trident pin glinting above a stack of ribbons.
"I'll tell Agatha to bring you a breakfast tray."
Lust and longing for him bubbled beside the sense that he wasn't just putting on a uniform, but armor. His cool, detached SEAL persona had slipped into place.
This wasn't the boy who had made me a cup of coffee after teaching me how to drive a boat. This was a man who was going into battle.
Tears pricked in my eyes again as I watched him finish getting dressed. The uniform covered up all the things about South that made him unique—the tattoos and the scars. His wild heart and the sadness I found so relatable.
South walked over to the bed and placed one kiss on the top of my head. His pretty hazel eyes not meeting mine when he said, "Get some rest. I'll see you later."
The echo of his shoes on hardwood was the last thing I heard before the tears came. Hot and fast. I cried into the covers for an embarrassing amount of time, until my eyes ached and my throat hurt. None of this was fair. We should be on our way to Virginia right now, with my dog and all my bags. We should be happy.
A gentle knock stole me from tears and thoughts. I wiped my face and tried to take a deep, calming breath before answering, "Yes?"
Agatha's impassive face peered from behind the door. "Can I come in?"
I let out an awkward, frustrated laugh. "Sure."
Agatha pushed a breakfast cart inside, laden with an array of breakfast confections—cinnamon rolls and tarts and stacks of buttery toast and pots of jam. The delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee lifted my spirits, and I sat up in bed, holding out my hands for a steaming mug.
"I was informed that you prefer coffee. And that you like pastries. I hope you find these satisfactory."
I took a sip, curling my toes under the covers. "Thank you very much, Agatha."
Her gentle almond eyes crinkled in a suggestion of a smile. "Eat," she said with an encouraging nod. "And I'll draw you a bath."
I selected one of the fluffy cinnamon rolls from the cart and forced myself to take a bite. I didn't want to naively trust the first person inside Tenney House to show me kindness—I'd learned that lesson the hard way with Connor.
But, as I took another sip of coffee, I wondered if I could wear my own mask. One that allowed me to protect myself, but also craft a few well placed contacts.