A Sinner’s Truth: Chapter 2

“What’s wrong? Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” my best friend Drew asks me.

“I was summoned to Father Dear’s office,” I explain, trying to keep the wobble out of my voice. My hands are shaking. I don’t know if it’s fear or anger that’s causing it.

“Whoa, come here. Sit down.” Drew leads me over to the sofa. His apartment is, well, a bachelor pad. Right down to the matching black sofas flanking the huge big-screen television that’s affixed to the wall in front of us.

Slumping onto the plush leather, I tilt my head back, attempting to keep the tears at bay. I hate him. I’ve always had a somewhat strained relationship with my father, but I’ve never full-on hated the man. Until today.

“What happened?” Drew presses, handing me a glass of amber liquid.

With trembling fingers, I lift the glass to my lips and gulp down a mouthful. I’m not usually a whiskey drinker. But right now, I’ll take anything that can numb me.

“Slow down there, champ. That’s Cinque, real top-shelf shit.” Drew smirks as he pulls the cup away from my lips. I don’t release it. I need something else to focus on, and right now it’s alcohol.

“He…” I stop. It’s so bad I can’t even say the words.

“He what?” Drew’s back noticeably straightens.

“He’s marrying me off,” I spit out.

“What do you mean he’s marrying you off?”

“Exactly that. He signed a deal right in front of me. With George Densper. I’m to marry the Densper heir in exactly twelve months.” Even as I say the words, I can’t believe them myself. It’s as if I’ve gone back in time to an era where women were nothing but property that was used for men to bargain with.

“He can’t force you to marry someone, Aria. Especially that prick Oliver Densper,” Drew seethes.

“He’s Ronald Swan. He can and will do whatever he wants,” I remind Drew, not that I have to. He already knows who my father is.

“Fuck off. This isn’t funny, Aria. This is marriage. You’re not marrying a psychopath. I won’t allow it.” Drew starts pacing the length of his living room.

I bring the crystal glass to my mouth again and finish off the contents. “I don’t have much choice.”

“Yes, you do,” he says. “There’s always a choice. We will find a way to get you out of this.”

“We have twelve months,” I tell him. “I will figure something out.”

“We could just get married now. You can’t legally marry someone else if you’re already married,” Drew says.

My nose scrunches up. It’s not that my best friend isn’t good looking. He is. It’s just that I know how much of a man whore he is and how marrying him would be like marrying my brother. Sick.

“That would never work. Dad would never believe it was real. Also, you’d never be able to stay faithful and I’d end up having to cut your most-favoured body parts off.” I wave a finger at his junk, and Drew winces.

What can I say? I have a bit of a jealous streak when someone else touches what’s mine. It comes with being an only child.

“Okay, so marriage is off the cards for us. We can find someone else,” he offers.

If marrying someone else was the answer, I’d do it. It’s not the solution, though. I don’t want to be married. Ever. I’ve seen my father’s marriages. All six of them, not counting my mother, and I want no part of any kind of relationship like that.

“Let’s go out.” I jump up from my seat. “Screw him. If I’m going to be shackled down with the likes of Oliver, then I’m going to make the next twelve months count.”

“You’re not marrying Oliver. We will get you out of this,” Drew says, determination evident in his voice.

“It’s not like marriages are forever. I think Dad’s longest marriage after mum died lasted maybe two years. If I can get to the one-year mark, I’ll have grounds for divorce.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal. It is. Being married to Oliver Densper for even a second is too long. The guy is a certified psychopath. He gives me the creeps. Always has.

I wouldn’t put it past him to have orchestrated this whole deal. He’s always wanted to date me. I’ve declined every time he’s asked. Like I said, he creeps me out. He’s also the stereotypical trust-fund brat. An entitled, rich asshole.

The very type of man I don’t want anything to do with. But, until I’m twenty-five, I don’t have a choice. I have to do whatever my father tells me to do in order to get access to my own trust fund. I know it sounds ridiculous. Rich girl problems. Except it’s not about the money. There’s something else in that trust that I want more than anything else.

And that’s my mother’s jewellery. She left it all to me when she died. I was only seven years old, but there’s one necklace I desperately want. I’ve asked my father for it repeatedly, but he won’t budge, and I can’t access the safe deposit box until I’m considered of age.

The necklace isn’t even an expensive piece. It’s a cheap gold locket with a picture of us inside it. My mother wore it every day. I remember her saying that when I was old enough, I’d wear it and replace the picture with one of my own daughter. I was only six, but I promised her I’d never change it. I’d always want her picture with me.

I once offered to sign everything else over to my father. He could keep the money, the properties, all of it if I could just have the necklace. He laughed in my face and told me he had no use for any of it. It’s true. He’s not holding my trust over my head because he’s greedy. He has more than enough money to last him twenty lifetimes and probably more. No, it’s because he likes to control me. He wants me to be the perfect little Swan princess so he can parade me around his galas and business events like some prized possession. Joke’s on him. If I truly were prized, he wouldn’t be signing me over to fucking Oliver Densper.

“Where are we going and how much bail money are we going to need?” Drew asks.

“Let’s not get arrested. We’re going to Unhinged. It’s where all the cool kids hang out, you know.” I laugh. Unhinged is Melbourne’s hottest nightclub, and I’m not lying. It is where all the cool kids hang out. But that’s not why I love it there. It’s because they have a huge dance floor I can get lost in.

“Deal. You wearing that?” Drew looks me up and down. Eyeing the skirt that reaches my knees and the light-pink blouse that barely hugs my top half. Suitable attire, according to Father Dearest.

“No, I’m heading back to my place. Pick me up in an hour.” I push to my feet and quickly kiss Drew’s cheek before walking out of his apartment and right next door to my own.

We can’t live together. Because, frankly, I’d probably kill him. But we do love being neighbours. Which is why, as soon as we could, we found two apartments side by side. Drew bought both of them. His parents gave him access to his trust fund when he turned eighteen.

I keep offering to pay rent, but he won’t hear it. My father hated that I moved out and told me if I did, he wouldn’t be covering my expenses. He’d never cut me off completely, though. After all, keeping up appearances costs money. And he wants me to be kept up.

“Two more years,” I say to myself as I close my front door. I just have to wait two more years. I can do that. Then I can tell Daddy Dearest where to shove his bullshit.

After rushing through a shower, I dress in a strapless crop top and a pair of black jeans that have me lying on the bed to zip up. Worth it though, because when I stand and look in the mirror, the jeans are hugging every curve like a glove. An inch of pale skin shows beneath my crop top. Tugging on my hair, I let the strands fall down. I really need a haircut. My waist-length strawberry blonde waves are a lot to manage. Maybe I should go for a bob. The thought doesn’t last long though. My hair is the same as hers. My mum’s.

Just as I’m applying a light-pink gloss to my lips, the front door opens. “Honey, I’m home,” Drew calls out.

“In here,” I call back, before sliding the lip gloss into my back pocket.

A low wolf whistle sounds out and I turn to see Drew eyeing me up and down. “Damn, sure you don’t wanna marry me?” he jokes.

“Ew, and never happening.” I push at his shoulder.

“Pity.” Drew shakes his head. I know he’s only joking. He has no interest in me like that. He never has. “You ready?”

“Let’s do this.” I smile, feeling lighter already.

As soon as we walk into the club, I know this is the exact kind of distraction I need. Drew takes hold of my hand and leads me over to the bar. Where he orders for us. “One drink, then I’m going out there.” I point to the dance floor.

“Uh-huh.” Drew nods but his attention is caught on something behind me. I turn around and spot the hot little brunette who’s captured his interest.

“Already?” I groan.

“What? I can’t help that they fall into my lap.” He smirks.

“Okay, come on. Let’s do this.” I grab my drink and walk over, stopping short of the brunette. Then I turn back to Drew and stomp my foot. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t leave me. You’re the biggest dick I’ve ever had. I need it!” I yell at the top of my lungs so she and probably everyone else within a metre can hear.

“You didn’t mean to fall into bed with him? My grandfather? Come on, Stacey, you really expect me to believe that?”

“I was giving a dying man his last wish,” I say.

“I can’t. I’m not doing this anymore. First my dad, then my grandfather. It’s over!” Drew shouts.

“Argh, fine. But just so you know, you really do have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.” I stomp off while smiling into my cup. Five, four, three, two, one. When I chance a look behind me, I see the hot brunette already offering Drew a shoulder to cry on.

Shaking my head, I turn back around and make a beeline for the dance floor. Idiots. That stunt works every time. Call me the world’s best damn wing woman.