Call You Mine (Servite Academy)

Chapter Four

WYNTER

W eddings. You either love them or hate them.

I’d like to say I’m indifferent, that they don’t make me tear up, nor do I fantasize about what could have been in another life. I wish I could say they were not only useless but also completely meaningless. Nothing but a piece of paper tying two lives together for eternity, yet it could so easily be torn apart for the right reasons.

In all truth, they’re my one weakness. The idea of them, at least. The one I made up in my head as a little girl, who, like every other naive girl her age, dreamed of the day I would walk down the aisle dressed in a white princess gown toward the hand of my Prince Charming. That was all before reality set in and I discovered it was a lie which only happened in fairytales, and my life was a far cry from ever ending with a happy-ever-after.

I was the villain—the evil queen who ended up alone after betraying her prince and putting herself before her kingdom. I was selfish, some would say narcissistic, and a cold-hearted bitch—a real gem. Though none of it was my fault. That’s what they made me.

Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, my parents raised me to believe all those who weren’t bred the same as I was weren’t my equals. They were beneath me. Squalors who deserved to be punished and treated as such.

It was too late for me when I finally opened my eyes and realized it was all a bunch of bullshit. By then, everyone saw me as a pretentious bitch and hated me just as much as they feared me. Unredeemable. Especially when the people I surrounded myself with were just as hateful and fake as the lies I was told. It’s the role I took on, the person I became.

I know Stella inviting me to her wedding is only a courtesy because our families have known each other for so long, but I can’t imagine she actually expects me to show up. None of them do since I’ve been radio silent for so long.

Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’ve come. I wouldn’t have even considered it if I hadn’t run away.

All that aside, if you’d have told me I would come to this wedding with a plus one I never, in any ill-fated universe, had any intention of speaking to again, let alone bringing as my date , I’d have called you fucking crazy.

Yet here I am, on the arm of a broody, and frankly dangerous, man. A man who, although I hate to admit it, looks fucking delectable in the all black, three-piece suit. Layer after layer of ink wrapped around his neck like the perfect noose peeking out from under the collar of his dress shirt. He’s always been easy to look at, at least according to the hordes of girls at Servite Academy who were endlessly fantasizing about the notorious bad boy with the sexy tattoos and eyes made of emerald gems.

Dragon , as his friends called him, was not only mysterious because he rarely spoke to anyone outside his small circle of confidants, but he was trouble with a capital T.

And now, this dark and wicked, yet dangerously alluring man is here with me, all because of a secret. Our pact.

Digging my fake white polished fingernails into the palm of my hands, I’m so close to drawing blood from how uneasy this whole thing is making me.

I hear him groan beside me and it only makes me dig them further in. “Stop shaking or they're going to notice something is wrong,” he whispers to me, his lips barely moving as he speaks. I keep my head straight, shoulders back, and eyes towards the altar ahead, but he’s nauseatingly present.

The scent that lingers in the air between us, a mix of bergamot, cedarwood, and smoke, along with the scent of liquor on his lips is tantalizing, intoxicating, and entirely his. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever smelled.

I bite my tongue to keep calm and collected, although inside of me there is a raging storm brewing about to wreak havoc if he so much as speaks again. “I’m not,” I snap back curtly, an uneasy edge to my voice.

But my sharp retort only makes him chuckle as he tightens his grip on my arm tucked in his. I can feel the vibrations of his heart and throaty chortle making a similar noise escape my own lips. “Babe, I can feel you trembling against me,” he groans, and the menacing tone makes me tremble even more. Though this time, it isn’t, because of the horrified looks pointed our way.

No, I want to pull away, take back my stupid idea, and run away—anywhere in the world but here—because of the feelings circling in my stomach and flowing down between my thighs already pressed tightly together.

I recognize it all too well, and I will not be going there. Not with him. Not again.

I push away the memory of his fingers on me from last night.

“Don’t call me that,” I sneer, biting the inside corner of my bottom lip. I make the mistake of looking up at him, his green opaque eyes curiously watching me with unease. They’re watching me intently, alight with so many questions. It’s as if he’s trying to look deep inside my mind to discover what I’m thinking.

It’s useless. He’s never getting in. I won’t allow it.

Of course he doesn’t respond. Nothing but another daunting chuckle leaves his lips. A sound that has me shivering in my five-inch Louboutin heels. I’m the wretched Ice Princess , christened the awful nickname because of my cruel attitude, icy disposition, and condescending nature. Someone as trivial as him shouldn’t be getting this rise out of me.

I drag my feet down the long aisle covered in pink and white rose petals, bouquets of peonies and pink roses pinned to the white tulle draping along the chairs lining the trail, all leading toward the giant wall of flowers behind the altar. And I mean freaking immense wall of flowers. There’s a thirty-foot-long white tent decorated with the same white and light pink draping over the tennis court of the newly remodeled Silver Estate ready for the reception that follows. With the size and ostentatiousness of the festivities, you’d think they’d be expecting over five hundred guests, but only about thirty people are in attendance.

Regardless, it’s breathtaking, the perfect whimsical fairytale wedding Stella Silver has always dreamed of and deserves. Thanks to her cousin Sebastian Silver and his wife, her best friend, today her dreams are coming true.

Two years in the making.

We’re almost at the front of the altar. The clicking of my heels against the paved trail and the thundering of my heart, vibrate thoroughly in my ears with every slow and calculated step I take. My vision blurs, my mouth goes awfully dry, and my eyes burn as sweat drips down my temples and trickles down in between my breasts.

That’s when I hear him, my brother's best friend Sebastian, murmuring as I walk past them in the second row.

“Well, would you look at that Servite,” Bass says, and from the corner of my eye I catch sight of him patting my brother on the back as he laughs. Their significant others stand on either side of them, holding the children in their arms. However, my brother Ace is a damn statue, standing frozen and gawking in my direction. In our direction. “Karma is a bitch, after all,” Bass continues, but this time when our eyes connect, the air around me turns frigid.

Though it’s Scarlett, my brother’s pregnant wife and the mother of his two-year-old daughter Caeli, who places her arm along his shoulders to calm him as she speaks. “And his name is Damon Drake.”

That wasn’t so bad.

If bad meant good and good meant absolute disaster.

What the hell was I thinking asking Damon to come as my date?

The answer is I wasn’t. I was stuck in a lust induced fog when the sexy fucker stood before staring at me with fuck me eyes, trailing his hands over my body like he had the right to, and putting his lips against me. Even if it may have seemed like an innocent kiss, friend to friend, to take away some of the pain he saw in my eyes, there is absolutely nothing innocent about Damon Drake and the way he touched me.

However, here we are walking arm in arm, from the ceremony to the reception set up on the opposite side of the estate.

The tent covering the tennis court is a brilliant white with a sheer cover on the roof entwined with hundreds of strings of twinkling lights. The curtains draped on the sides, are pleated and tied in the middle with a shiny gold ribbon, giving the expansive space a sense of privacy. On one side is a makeshift bar, fully stocked along with posters of the “His and Hers” cocktails offered for the night, and on the other a brilliant limestone fountain, equipped with bright LED lights flickering from pink to white to a light yellow-gold color, the blush-colored water dripping over the top with bubbles meant to look like champagne. Or is it real champagne?

Given the illustrious nature of the entire event, I wouldn’t doubt it. Stella is getting her dream wedding.

Although the bride and groom have yet to make their awaited entrance as husband and wife, everyone around us is acting like the major attraction is already here. All eyes are on Damon and me, every single one of the thirty people who were in attendance, some I recognize, others I’ve never seen before. In addition, a few others are arriving through the gates surrounding the court, all wearing matching leather jackets and sticking out like a sore thumb.

Though no one is looking at us with as much disdain as my brother Ace, who watches us from across the room with his permanent scowl in place. As part of the bridal party, they’re all headed to the gardens beside the courtyard to take photos before entering the reception. I begged Damon to let me wait at one of the cocktail tables set up along the outside of the tent, but he insisted I come along. I may not be part of the bridal party but as best man’s date, apparently it's all the same.

Though something in me rejoices at the mere thought, he wanted me by his side. I better reel that bitch in quickly before she gets any ideas.

Standing at the edge of the gardens, I nervously fiddle with the diamond cuffed choker around my neck—my favorite piece of jewelry I grabbed before leaving. It was one of the few pieces I owned which held any meaning and I just couldn’t fathom the thought of parting with it. It was a gift from Warren and Willa for my sixteenth birthday. They’d surprised Ace with a brand-new Mercedes G-Wagon while I’d received this necklace, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it cost the same amount.

Five layers of glittering diamonds are linked along a silver chain, then twisted around the edge of a larger ring. It looks more like a cuff for your wrist than a necklace, but it’s beautiful and exactly what I would have chosen if I’d shopped for it myself. I don’t remember ever having a true mother daughter relationship with Willa, not since figuring out at twelve years old the only thing she cared about was herself, but something about the way she looked at me that day, with a look almost resembling affection, made me wish things had been different between us.

Not to mention it was the only thing I could think of to hide the imprint of Enzo’s fingers around my neck. I paired the choker with a black strapless dress I’d purchased this morning, after sneaking out to a small boutique I used to frequent in downtown Hillcrest. The smooth, skin tight fabric hugged every one of my curves and the high slit on the right side ensured no one would look at the cuts scattered along my lower chest I tried my best to cover with makeup. Wearing a low-cut dress was not an option and unfortunately, that’s all I’d brought with me.

I drag myself out of my thoughts, focusing on the group standing on two large cherry blossom trees. Stella and Kai are standing in the middle, with the bridesmaids on his side and the groomsmen on the other. Her best friends Scarlett and Jade stand beside Damon’s sister Ruby, all dressed in the same gorgeous gold dress with black lace accents along the train, while Damon, Ace, Bass, and Jaxon stand beside Kai in that order matching his all black suit.

My heart aches watching what I’ve missed out on for being such a pretentious bitch my whole life. I missed out on having a group of friends to count on, a family of my own, not blood, but chosen. Instead, here I am alone, no friends, even if I’m better off without the ones I thought were mine, and having to beg a man to pretend to be my date.

Suddenly my phone rings, startling me more than it should have. I’ve been constantly on edge since my arrival, paranoia getting the best of me every second of the day. I reach into my clutch and pull out the phone Damon showed up with this morning.

He’d realized I hadn’t brought one with me and although I was planning to get a new one, he’d done it for me. I couldn’t help but smile when he gave me the box, the newest model iPhone sitting inside, installed and ready to use. Damon frowned, claiming he only got it for me because I couldn’t be without one if he needed to reach me since I was “apparently hiding something from him” . He wasn’t wrong, but that he got me a gift, one necessary for him to ensure I stay safe, made my heart feel all fuzzy and warm.

I’d disposed of the one I brought with me back at Damon’s apartment—a spare I got from one of Enzo’s maids who took pity on me after he came home drunk from a strip club one night. Enzo never knew I had it and I couldn’t get myself to part with it when I left. It was the only way to contact Luke, since he knew I had it. Yet something told me disposing of it was for the best, in case it was traceable and Enzo made me believe otherwise.

I ignore the number I don’t recognize, and slip it back into my purse, but before my gaze shifts back to Damon and his friends, I feel someone walk up behind me.

“I had to make sure it was you before risking coming over to see you.” My heart drops at the sound of her voice, a voice I hadn’t heard in three years and, frankly, never expected to hear again. Tears well in my eyes, anger priming my skin and shooting straight through me. How fucking dare she show up here?

I twist in my heels to face her, and gasp in horror when my eyes meet hers. It’s like staring in a fucking mirror. If said mirror, was one of those distorted ones you typically find in a creepy carnival fun house.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I shout, not caring who hears me.

She runs her tongue under her bottom lip in the inside of her mouth, a telltale sign she’s about to come at me with one of her snide remarks. She always was a classy bitch. “How is that any way to talk to your mother, darling,” she practically coos, biting her tongue to hold on the real jab she wants to throw out at me. “Besides, I can ask you the same thing, Wynter?”

She spits my name out like an insult, forgetting she’s the bitch who named me after a fucking season. Had she always known I’d be as cruel as the harshest of winters, a volatile storm releasing my fury on those who wronged me? Because right now my darling mother was in my path of destruction and I didn’t have a goddamn care in the world if I took her down with me.

For so long, I blamed her for what happened to me. For lying about who my father was, for abandoning me and leaving me to fend for myself when Wesley died. If she’d have stayed, maybe we could have figured out a way to stop Enzo from claiming me as his prize. Even though in my darkest days, the nights I laid in bed alone with my tormented thoughts, the times I sat in my tub filled to the brim tempted to lie back, and fall beneath the water to an endless sleep, I imagined she’d have sat back and watched him take me, instead asking for a reward in return for allowing him to claim me as his.

I’ll admit it was dark to think a mother would be capable of doing that to her own child, but Willa was never a mother to me. Sometimes I wondered why she even had us. Not only did she look more like my older sister, but she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.

I feel more eyes on us, sensing the group approaching us from where they stood beneath the tree. This is Stella’s wedding and this woman just shows up uninvited, threatening to ruin it all because of me.

My hands fist at my sides, sharp nails digging into my palms, nearly making me bleed. “How dare you come here, Willa?”

She playfully flicks her hair over her shoulder. “I had no other choice. I needed to see you, but then I heard you hadn’t come back. I thought maybe you’d show up here. Stella was a friend of yours after all and I’d heard she’d invited you.”

“Heard from who?”

She rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders, looking around at everyone gazing toward us before stepping closer to me and whispering so only I can hear her. “That doesn’t matter. I don’t have a lot of time. We need to go somewhere to talk, alone.”

I scoff, taking a step back from her. “I have nothing to say to you,” I snarl, but she reaches out for me, gripping my arm and tugging me to her.

“Oh no dear, you’re going to listen to me.”

“Wynter,” Drake says, suddenly coming up behind me. I close my eyes, frustrated he’s come over to us. The last thing I need is for Willa to suspect I’m here with him, or worse, use that against me. She’s a manipulative woman and I wouldn’t put anything past her at this point. What Willa wants, Willa gets, it’s how it’s always been.

Not that Damon is mine for her to take, but she has a way of ruining things with a simple touch. Like poison dripping from her fingertips, she’s the true Wicked Witch in my happily never-after. “Is everything okay?” he asks when I don’t respond, stepping closer to me, his chest now flush against my back.

For a second, I let myself get taken away by the feel of him behind me, protectively coming to my rescue yet again in twenty-four hours. A strong hand rests on my waist and he gently tugs back, asserting his protection over me in case it wasn’t already obvious to her.

“And who may this delicious young man be?” Willa asks, her eyes roaming over Damon, drinking him in as lust flashes in her eyes. It’s sick, the way she licks her lips in response. Willa maybe only thirty-eight years old, and thanks to her plastic surgeon look exactly the way she did at eighteen, but the fact she’s looking at him like she’d take the first opportunity to fuck him makes me want to tear her white hair from her scalp and watch it turn red, saturated in her blood.

I really fucking hate my mother.

“He’s no one,” I spit out, urging her to drop her petty act and get to the goddamn point. I shrug out of Damon’s hold. “You wanted to talk, mother, then talk before I have you thrown out of here like the dirty trash you are.”

That makes her laugh, her fake grin hiding her true intentions. “You always were a spoiled little brat, just like your father,” she spits out at me.

Now it’s my turn to laugh at her. “Which one?” I ask, mocking her. I hear a few gasps come from somewhere behind me, but I don’t turn around.

Fury blazes in her eyes and this time the woman can’t hide it. “You watch your tongue, Wynter Servite. I am still your mother.”

“That word means nothing to me, Willa. Absolutely fucking nothing, just like you.”

She reaches for me, yanks me by the arm and pulls me with her to the end of the garden. Like a petulant child, I stomp my feet behind her, turning to Damon and urging him not to interfere. If the quickest way to get rid of her is to play her little game, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

We stop at the edge of the fountain, her nails digging into my upper arm as I pull away. “I need you to get married,” she says, like it’s the most normal fucking thing in the world to say.

A burst of laughter leaves me at her remark. “Wow, you really have gone mad.”

“I’m serious Wynter,” she says. Her voice is so desperate, I know she’s not joking around. “I’m almost out of the money I took with me before the Servite assets were frozen. Not to mention, living as a fugitive is quite expensive.”

I scoff. “You mean recklessly blowing money on expensive champagne and caviar when you can barely afford a pack of cigarettes?”

Willa rolls her eyes, ignoring me as she continues. “I have a list of potential suitors. They’re all successful, rich, and willing to marry you despite your inadequate social status.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Servite name’s tarnished darling, not to mention you’ve been paraded all around New York as some high-class whore for the last three years.” Panic crashes into me at the possibility she knows about my relationship with Enzo. “However, these men will overlook it so long as you continue to.” Her eyes rake over my body, like she’s assessing my appearance. “So long as you continue to look the way you do. Given what they see,” she says, running her hands down her body. “They know what they're getting and are more than willing,” she adds, doing the same to mine.

“You're trying to pimp out your daughter?” I shout in disbelief. Yup, now I know for a fact I was right. She’d have freely given me away to Enzo.

“Don’t look at it that way. This would be equally beneficial to you.”

I used to believe nothing about her would surprise me anymore, but this is a new low, even for her. “Wow, way to win the award for mother of the fucking year, Willa.”

“Enough with the disrespect and sarcasm Wynter, I need you to go on a date with a few of the men. In the end, you’ll have the last say in which one you choose.”

Gee mom, thanks for forgiving me a say in my life. “For one, you must be clinically insane for even for one second, thinking I’d go along with your psychotic plan, mother. You really should see someone for that. Two, and this one is totally on me, I honestly never imagined you’d go to these lengths.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, my dear. I’m sure you’d agree, given you’ve gone to certain lengths in your past.” Panic creeps into me at the mere suspicion she might know something about my time in New York. “There is one thing that may delay what I’m asking of you—your inheritance.”

“What?” I cry out in disbelief. Yet my mother has the audacity to stare back at me like what she's just demanded is nothing more than a simple favor, nothing out of the fucking ordinary.

“Your trust. I know you're a month away from claiming your grandfather's inheritance. Hand it over and we’ll call it even.”

“No,” I shout back, stepping away from her, but she quickly reaches for me, pulling me in for what would look to be a hug to anyone watching us.

Her fingers dog into my upper arms and she holds me forcefully against her. “Then go get your little cunt waxed, baby girl, mommy needs her goddamn money.”

My palm aches, and if I didn’t think slapping her across her much deserving Botox-infused face would make Damon rush over to us, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

I can’t just talk my way out of this. What Willa Servite wants, she always gets, and I know she’ll never back off unless I give her what she wants. I need a good enough lie, a reason I can’t be part of her con. And that’s when stupidity strikes me. Such an outrageous idea it might be what it takes to get her to back away. “Even if I wanted to help you, which I don’t, I can’t.”

She scoffs, releasing me only to glare murderously at me. “Why?”

“Because,” I murmur, looking to our right where he stands, his eyes glued to mine. “I already have a boyfriend, and he can get us what you need as long as you promise me you’ll disappear. For good.”