His Brutal Game by Audrey Rush
CHAPTER 3
Maisie
One week later, everything had changed. The Feldman Farm was a ranch in Crown Creek, the area next to Pierce. And now, it was my new home—my wedding and move-in day wrapped into one. The farm had been decorated to rustic perfection—bronze-colored tablecloths with blush sashes, woodsy furniture, even hay bales placed to obstruct the view of the equipment. Laced with light pink hydrangeas and burgundy roses, the stage area was like a romantic fairytale. The decorations, the dress, the jewelry—every detail fit for royalty. My older sister was supposed to get a wedding like this. Not me.
As promised, the father—Forrest—had removed me from my situation, giving Green enough money to be content. But the Feldmans made sure that Green knew they were keeping an eye on him. Which, when it came to Green, held little weight. He didn’t scare easily.
“Are you ready for your jewelry, Miss Maisie?” the maid asked. I smiled. I had forgotten that she was there. It still stunned me that I had a maid to myself. Apparently, she worked for Forrest; my fiancé didn’t want anyone near his home. We were getting ready for the ceremony at the main house, Forrest’s home.
“Is there anything you can tell me about the family?” I asked. A shy smile crept across her face. “What am I getting myself into, exactly?”
“I don’t know. I just clean for them. Other occasional duties, like this.”
She was obviously hiding something, but I didn’t press it. She presented the diamond necklace, the gems sparkling in the natural light. I lowered myself. She clasped it around my neck. Next were the earrings, which I did myself.
“You look perfect,” the maid said. My heart filled up with guilt. Bambi always said things like that. I hated that I was here and that she was stuck with Green.
“Thank you,” I said.
I stared out the bay window. White pine trees lined the sides of the gates, separating the pastures. A barn on one side, storage space on the other. Metal fences decorated with flowers. There were so many people mingling with each other that I almost expected to see my family there, huddling in the corner, my parents afraid of embarrassing themselves around rich people, and Fiona, my older sister, no doubt being courted by an endless stream of hopeless men. But even if I had invited them, I doubted they would have come. We didn’t have a great relationship, even before I left. Fiona was the perfect one; I was the daughter who screwed everything up. Every older couple that I saw, every set of grown and young children, was a reminder that my side of the audience would be filled, but not by my family.
I didn’t need support like that on my wedding day. It was an arranged marriage, not love. And Bambi was my family. She was the only person who was there for me, even when I ruined everything.
“I need some fresh air,” I explained to the maid. I let myself out of the back door.
A bird chirped in the distance, an annoying song, but I took a deep breath, trying to relax. The lace bodice of my dress was extremely snug, not allowing a full breath, but the a-line flattered my figure. Forrest had sent someone to take measurements, but I was still impressed that the dress fit perfectly.
Still, it was risky being outside. I picked up the train. Dirt already dotted the hem.
“Screw it,” I muttered. It was just a dress. I could still sell it later. I dropped the lining, letting the rocks and dirt clump on the edges. This dress probably cost more than Green had spent on Bambi and me combined in the last five years, but it was still only fabric. Money was a way to survive. You didn’t spend it on crap like this.
A man breathed in beside me. I startled. My future husband’s nostrils flared. A plain black suit jacket hugged his shoulders, accented with a plain tie. He must not have cared about fashion either. A plain black suit for him, and a seriously overpriced wedding dress for me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I immediately flushed with heat. That was a dumb question. This was his father’s house, his family’s property, and this was his—our?—wedding day. “I mean, what are you doing back here?” I corrected.
He snickered, tossing his head to the side. He was going to ignore me, then.
“Well, I guess I’m right,” I said. “Nothing I say will be good enough for a real answer, huh?” I glowered at him. Was he ever genuine? Bambi was right; the Feldmans were hiding something.
“Wilder,” he said.
Had he given me his name? Now? Minutes before our wedding? His steel-blue eyes focused on me. He licked his bottom lip. My breath hitched.
A bell rang in the distance. The back door opened.
“Miss Maisie, the ceremony—” the maid paused, then bowed her head at Wilder. “Mr. Feldman. The ceremony will begin soon.”
She let herself back inside, and the two of us glanced at each other. He ran a palm over his face, his fingernails still caked with red mud.
Was it blood?
“You don’t have to be a Feldman,” he said, interrupting my thoughts.
My stomach twisted. What was so bad about being a Feldman? Why did he keep trying to make me back out of our marriage?
“Your father promised to get me away from my boss, and offered me a million dollars,” I said. “You know how much a girl like me could use that?”
“It’s not worth it. Not with what we’ll put you through.” His gaze enveloped me. “Nothing is worth it.”
My chest tightened, but I stayed there. Neither of us spoke, both of us waiting for the other person to move.
“We should go,” I finally whispered.
He turned toward the side of the house, walking through the dirt and grass.
“See you at the altar,” he said.
***
Wilder
I stood at the front, near the flowered archway. My father sat in the front row, next to a man who kept nodding at him, then me, as if he was scared to let his eyes off of me for a second. My father must have been discussing business. There were few requests that my father acknowledged. When it came to the kind of woman I wanted to marry, he listened and respected my interests. And he had done well.
I had been watching Maisie. Followed her down the train tunnel. Observed how she held herself around her boss. Even as much shit as I gave her, Maisie intrigued me in a way that no woman had in a long time. She was stupidly brave. Stubborn. Confident in what she thought she knew.
But when it came to the wedding, the fact that I would rather sign papers at a courthouse than be paraded around like a cow-calf pair up for auction didn’t matter. My father and brother had people to network with, and my wedding was the perfect occasion. Playing along like a family was mandatory.
Despite the show, my father kept everyone at arm’s length, even Sawyer and me. There was a lot to be admired in that. But it hadn’t always been that way. There had been a time when women made him weak too. Ironic, seeing as I was in his place now.
Maisie had both parents, but neither of them was here. I had to laugh. She thought her life was hard. At least her parents were both alive.
When the music started playing, my brother walked down with a friend of the family we had asked to stand in as Maisie’s bridesmaid. A flower girl—my father’s friend’s niece—threw rose petals on the ground after them.
The music changed, and like a herd of sheep, the audience stood and twisted toward the aisle, waiting for the bride. The hem of her dress was streaked with dirt, and her nails were clean of polish—though I honestly would have preferred the chipped white. A light mauve painted her lips. The scent of honeysuckle lingered in the air, but I could still detect her body odor underneath.
The officiant went through the ceremony with ease. I observed each audience member. Each blank face. Each fake smile. The fake tears in the name of love. None of them made eye contact with me. I was big-boned and had a naturally intimidating inclination. It was an advantage that I enjoyed.
The officiant lectured about true love. Maisie smiled at him, playing her part well. The little actress. Her dress was stunning—layers of cloth cascading from her hips with enough tightness to make me salivate.
“Wilder Feldman, do you take Maisie Ross to be your wedded wife—”
I had a gun and enough ammunition tucked in the storage room a few yards away that I could put five bullets in every person attending the wedding—even my father and brother. In a few seconds, everyone would be dead. And I had enough for myself too.
“—for better or worse—”
And once the bullets came, there would be nothing we could do to stop that death. My eyes lingered over Maisie. She was young, early twenties, marrying me. Someone who would never give her a loving future. All for a fresh start and money that would never save her.
“—in sickness and health—”
I was already sick. And Maisie? Saying these words, vowing to marry me, was part of her demise. Soon, she’d be unrecognizable too. A hopeless shell. Chunks of flesh in the incinerator.
“—for as long as you both shall live?”
I locked eyes with Maisie. She would die too. And I wouldn’t stop it. It was the only promise we all had.
“I do,” I said.
Her lips quivered, her natural scent pushing through the honeysuckle, as if nothing could match that ripe primal instinct circulating within her, telling her not to be afraid. But she nodded along to the same vows, agreeing to a future that neither of us could guarantee.
“I do,” she said.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
I reached a hand behind her back, tracing the curve of her spine. She closed her eyes, opening her mouth, ready for me.
I smacked down hard, knocking my teeth into hers, then I shoved her away. Everyone stood, clapping. ‘Wedding March’ clanged through the speaker system. We walked down the aisle together, a few feet apart.
A coordinator yelled about taking pictures with the wedding photographer, motioning for us to follow him, taking the SUV to the pond. The Feldman Farm had been in our family for generations, and that meant a vibrant scenery tied in with the ranch. Plenty of acres. A few ponds. Cattle roaming with ease. And in the distance, you could see Pierce Mountain in blue and green. My father signaled for me and Sawyer to join him in his truck.
While the bridal side of the wedding party took photographs, the three of us stood behind, waiting.
“This is an advantage, isn’t it?” Forrest said, slapping my back. I held my chin stern, and Sawyer narrowed his eyes. “Not like your brother, huh? You don’t need to get attached. Just ship her off when you’re ready.”
I studied my brother for a moment. He held his mouth still, not letting on that the words bothered him. Maisie stood against the pond, the bottom of her dress black with mud. That was a failure on my father’s part. A farm wedding called for something shorter. Easier to walk in. With room to breathe. The dress was beautiful and fit her like a glove, but it was impractical. Sweat glistened on her skin, her body sparkling. How heavy was the dress? Would it weigh her down like cinder blocks, letting her sink to the bottom of the pond?
“I was never attached,” Sawyer said.
“Denial, my boy,” Forrest chuckled. “The whole experience shocked you, didn’t it? It did for me too.”
Sawyer had never actually married the woman, but that didn’t mean that he was unaffected by the circumstances. Still, I already knew with certainty that this was the only union I could handle: one bound by money and disinterest.
“Not my Wilder, though,” Forrest continued. “You’ll be ready for the Feldman Offering.”
I focused on Maisie, her mauve lips. Whenever the day came, we—Maisie and I both—would be ready.
Forrest pulled out his phone and punched a few buttons. Both my phone and my brother’s beeped.
“Your first livestock orders in the Feldman Trial,” Forrest explained.
“Nine names,” Sawyer said to himself, scanning the secure messaging app. On my phone, there was only one name listed.
My father turned to Sawyer. “Those are business opportunities for you to consider. Take care of it, then absorb their contacts. And Wilder.” He faced me. “I went to find her and came up empty-handed. Perhaps I’m getting too old for the business.”
In the distance, the cattle lowed to each other, barely acknowledging the wedding. The Dairy Barn loomed beyond the gate, locked and closed. Maisie posed, lying in the grass next to the pond. She locked eyes with me for a moment, a flash of curiosity twisting in her saddle brown eyes, and that inquisitive nature was her weakest flaw. It wasn’t the way to survive.
The heat baked down on us, a droplet of sweat tracing down my neck. The pond would be warm, but still cooler than this. Maisie would struggle when I held her down, suffocating in the muddy banks. The dirt caking her cheeks, her lipstick smearing with it. With enough effort, she might even make it worth my while, struggling against me in the pond, her wedding dress bunching up around her hips.