Say You’re Mine by Alexa Riley
Chapter One
Iris
“Iris, stand up straighter and suck in.”
I do as my mother asks as she pulls on the zipper of my dress up. She tugs hard, and I hear her strain, but it doesn’t budge. She lets out an irritated huff and then narrows her eyes.
“Did you drink water all day yesterday?”
“Yes.” I always do as she asks, and even though I’ve never lied to her, she looks like she doesn’t believe me.
If she could control every bite of food that went into my mouth she would. She’s put me on a diet before, but then my dad found out and he went through the roof. Mom can get away with a lot of things, but on a rare moment when Dad pushes back, everyone falls into line, including Mom.
“We’ll have to get something else.” She tsks and shakes her head. “Such a waste of a beautiful dress.”
The passive aggressive dig is something I’m used to, so I ignore her. I wiggle out of the dress, and she turns around to shuffle through the rack of clothing her personal shopper brought over today. This is so over the top for a backyard tea party, but I keep my mouth shut.
I’d love to tell her if she wants the dress so badly she should wear it herself. Although it would hang off of her slender frame and look like a paper bag. Years ago I found pictures of when she modeled. She was gorgeous then, and she still is now. She’s all legs, with silky hair, and her skin is perfect too.
I’m constantly disappointed I didn’t get one of her traits out of the gene pool. I’m short, extra curvy, and my hair is impossible to control unless there is a professional nearby. Dark freckles spread across the tops of my cheeks and nose that even the best makeup can’t hide. She never comments on the differences in the two of us, but I can put it together when she does everything in her power to cover up all my flaws and puts me in shoes that are impossible to walk in.
While she can be hard about a lot of things, she can be sweet and supportive too. I’ve never understood how she can go from one extreme to the next, but everything with her is often one way or the other. There is no gray, it is only black and white, and it’s a constant struggle to keep up with her mood swings. Some days I think I hate her and others I love her. Maybe I get more from her than I realize.
“How about something that’s a little more girl next door. I should have started with that. You’ll look adorable with your dimples and a sundress, and you can even wear flats.” She’s talking more to herself than me, but I still respond.
“That sounds amazing.”
“Perfect.” She hands me a white dress that has dark blue eyelet lace at the bottom. When I hold it out, I realize there’s nothing at the top. “Strapless?”
“Yes, I’ll get you a bra to change into.”
At least I’m getting flats and a dress I can breathe in. I can’t complain too much, but my mom has no idea what it’s like to wear a strapless bra with boobs my size. Luckily when I put the dress on it’s actually snug at the top, which will help. It’s fitted through my chest and waist, then begins to flare at my hips. The material stops a few inches above my knee, with the dark lace just a little below that. It’s beautiful, and I’m surprised that I actually love how it fits me.
“Oh! You look perfect!” She comes rushing into the room with a bra and hands it to me to put on while she gets my shoes and any accessories she wants to add.
Sometimes I think I’m her dress-up doll more than her daughter. I used to love it when I was younger, but now I want to wear things that I pick out myself. Still, this is a small price to pay to make her happy, so I let her do her thing. Especially because the tea this afternoon is with her friends. Since I’ve gotten older, she’s been including me in more of her events. I think she might be grooming me to be a mini her and take over some of the responsibilities she has for the family.
“And we’re right on time.” Mom grabs my hand and leads me out of my bedroom.
We walk down the grand stairs that lead to the front entrance, and I realize I don’t even know what the tea this afternoon is for.
“You never told me who’s coming today,” I say as I’m careful to not wrinkle my dress.
“Just Molly Rineheart.” I stop walking. Now I know why she never told me. “What?” she asks innocently.
This isn’t the first time Mom has brought up Brock. The first time she told me about him, I said I had no interest, but clearly that didn’t matter. She’s pushing for this, and Dad isn’t here to stop her.
“Mrs. Adair, a car was just let through the gates,” Rita announces.
“Make sure everything is ready, and we’ll enter the garden in a few minutes.” Rita nods to my mom and then goes towards the kitchen.
“You’re trying to set me up.” My voice is quiet because I don’t want to make her angry.
“You should be thanking me. The Rinehearts are a prominent name, and the boy is handsome. Not to mention your father works with his father, so it’s in everyone’s interest to join our households. Make sure you’re on your best behavior.”
When have I ever not been on my best behavior? Mom had me learning fork placement and proper seating etiquette as a child. I bite my tongue to not say anything because Dad is the one weapon she knows she can use against me. I have to think about how to approach this situation and how to get out of it.
The doorbell sounds, and the chimes echo through the house. I know for a fact Mom set this all up for this specific time because Dad is out of town. She can be a bit of a snake at times to get what she wants.
“Welcome,” Mom says when the butler opens the front door. When I don’t see Brock with his mom, I perk up. Maybe this won’t be so terrible. “Don’t you look lovely today, Molly,” Mom says as they give each other kisses on both cheeks.
“Thank you.” Molly turns her focus on me. “Oh, Iris, I can’t believe how much you’ve grown. When did you get your braces off?”
“Last summer.” Without thinking, I run my tongue along the top of my teeth.
“What a lovely young lady you are now.” She smiles, but I look down at the floor.
“Thank you, Mrs. Rinehart.” I keep my voice appreciative, but inside my stomach is churning.
“Isn’t she pretty, Brock?” she calls out, and I snap my head up in time to see Brock make his entrance. He’s tucking his phone into his pocket as he walks up beside his mom and looks me over.
“She is.” Brock winks at me, and I feel my hands sweating.
His wavy blond hair is perfectly styled, and he looks like he could be on the cover of some kind of country club magazine. He’s wearing a classic pale blue polo shirt paired with khakis, and I wonder if his mom dressed him too. As much as I’d like to deny it, he is handsome. But he knows it, and that makes it so much worse.
Every girl in our social circle whispers about Brock. As connected as my mom is, I can't believe she hasn’t heard all the rumors. If she did it would be gross that she’s trying to set me up with the entitled jerk. He’s slept with half the country club, including a few moms if the rumors are to be believed. Why would she set me up with someone who has a terrible reputation?
“Come in.” Mom steps back, giving them room to enter the house. “Iris, why don’t you show Brock to the garden where we’re set up? The roses are in full bloom right now.”
“I’d love to see it.” He smirks at me.
He doesn't give a crap about the roses, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t do anything to upset my mother or disrupt this perfect day she has planned.
“Of course, let me show you the way.” When I turn toward the patio and begin walking, I feel him quickly catch up with me. When he puts his arm along my back, I tense.
“Relax,” he says. “I don’t bite, unless you want me to.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“I don’t.” I step to the side to open the sliding glass door and keep my distance so he can’t touch me again.
“You virgins are always so uptight,” he scoffs, shaking his head.
“No we’re not,” I say, but then regret the words immediately. I don’t know why I’m trying to convince him of anything because it’s pointless.
He pulls a flask out of his pocket and takes a swig before offering it to me.
“No thanks.”
“See, uptight.” He takes another drink before putting the flask back in his pocket. “Now let's go see this rose garden.” He licks his lips, and his eyes linger on my cleavage. “Maybe some are ripe for the picking.”
It takes me a moment to catch his innuendo, and my face flushes. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I walk ahead and try not to let it show.
I’m starting to think my mom might actually hate me.
