The Unwanted Marriage: Dion and Faye’s Story (The Windsors)

I watch my phone ring atop my piano, guilt warring with temptation as I reject Eric’s call, my thoughts turning to Dion instead. There was something about the way he flirted with me at the gala that suddenly made our engagement feel real, when it never has before.

Standing on that dance floor with him, his hands on my lower back and my body pressed against his… it made me feel something I’ve never felt before — not even with Eric. I felt safe, and for a few moments, he made me feel wanted. Dancing with him just felt so right.

I’ve never felt so conflicted before. My heart still aches at the thought of Eric, but when I think of Dion, I’m no longer filled with apprehension and fear. When I think of him asking me whether I’ve been good for him, my stomach flutters, and my heart beats a little faster.

When he told me that he’s mine now and he’d start taking our engagement seriously, I thought he was joking. I didn’t think anything between us would change at all, and on the surface, nothing has. So why does everything feel different?

“Faye,” my father calls, and I look up to find him standing in the doorway of our soundproof music room. “Anne Windsor is picking you up in ten minutes. Be ready.”

He sounds frantic, worried, and I jump up instantly. Dion’s grandmother has always put me on edge. She reminds me of a softer, non-violent version of my father. Still a tyrant, but just of a different kind. I haven’t spoken more than a handful of words to her in the last couple of years, and I was hoping to keep it that way until the wedding. I’m terrified I’ll do or say something wrong today, or that she found out what I did and simply wants to confront me in person.

My gaze drops to my outfit, and I take in the white silk blouse with the cream-colored pencil skirt and my matching heels. This should be fine, right? Most of my wardrobe is Windsor Material, as my father likes to call it. Ever since I was twelve, I’ve had a stylist who chooses my clothing. Every few months, a whole new collection of clothes appears with instruction on how to wear them. This season, everything is business casual. I have a feeling my father gets the Windsors to pay for it somehow, but I’ve never dared ask him about it. I suspect a question like that would set him off.

“I wonder why she wants to see me,” I muse out loud.

My father’s head snaps up, his shoulder tensing as his anger builds. My heart sinks, and I lower my eyes, wishing I’d kept my mouth closed. “You should be grateful she wants to see you at all,” he tells me, his tone threatening. “You’d better act grateful and civilized. If I hear one bad thing about your meeting today, I’ll ensure Chloe won’t be able to walk out of this house for at least a week.”

A chill runs down my spine, and my stomach turns. My first instinct is to tell him she shouldn’t be punished for my impudence, but I know better than that. “Yes, Father,” I say instead.

My feet are unsteady as I walk back to my bedroom to double-check my makeup and outfit. I learned long ago what the consequences are if I try to look normal for once. My father never lets me forget the role I’m supposed to play. A future Windsor. A soft depreciating huff escapes my lips, disgust settling in my stomach. I’m tired of pretending, of being scared, yet that’s all that lies ahead of me. Today, my fear will simply shift from my father to Dion’s grandmother.

I’m near-numb as I make my way down, unsure what she might want from me. She invites me over at least once a month, but my father has always had an excuse ready. What makes today different?

My eyes widen a fraction when I see her black limousine parked in front of my house, a shiver running down my spine. I hadn’t meant to make her wait. The last thing I want to do is get on her nerves before I even have a chance to greet her.

“Good afternoon, Grandma Anne,” I murmur politely as I slip into the backseat next to her.

She smiles at me, her green eyes so startlingly similar to Dion’s that I find myself staring a moment too long. “I’m so glad you could make it,” she tells me as she wraps her arm around me, in a side hug. I tense, surprised by the gesture, and she throws me another reassuring smile. “Something always seems to come up when I ask you to come over. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

My heart stutters as I try to decipher her words. Does she know my father was purposely keeping me from her? Is she blaming me for it? “It’s good to see you,” I murmur simply, choosing my words carefully.

The privacy window between the driver and us lowers, and I tense as Maria comes into view. “Hi, Faye,” she says, throwing me a sweet smile. “I hope you don’t mind me tagging along.”

I stare at her numbly for a moment, my father’s words coming to mind. There’s no way Maria is merely his secretary. He’s with her every second of every day, and he has been for years.

Dion denied it, but could there be a thread of truth in my father’s words? The thought makes me oddly uncomfortable, in a way I’ve never experienced before. She certainly is beautiful, with her perfectly straight shoulder-length blonde hair and her flawless makeup.

Maria’s smile wavers, and I finally snap out of it. “Hi, Maria,” I say, my voice even and my lips tipped up into a polite smile. If there’s one thing I excel at, it’s acting like everything is fine while anxiety eats me up inside.

She looks like there’s more she wants to say, but she ends up nodding at me politely before straightening in her seat. I follow suit and glance back at Grandma Anne, only to find her studying me with an intent gaze. She grins at me, her expression softening, but something about it seems calculated. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something about her reminds me of my father.

“We’re going to Dion’s home on the Windsor estate,” she tells me. “Dion is having it renovated, and I thought you might want to decorate it yourself. Maria is here to help with anything you might want to order. Dion hasn’t hired a local personal assistant yet, so she’s filling in for now,” Grandma Anne explains. “Usually, she doesn’t handle any of Dion’s personal errands, but she will for now.”

I nod thoughtfully. I’ve tried so hard not to think about anything beyond the wedding that I didn’t stop to wonder what it’d be like to live with Dion. I’ve certainly never considered what our house would look like, and I wonder if Grandma Anne realizes just how much it means to me that she’s asking for my input.

I stare out the window as large gates appear in the distance. The Windsor estate never ceases to impress me, but at the same time, it’s always made me feel endlessly inadequate. Could I ever truly belong here?