Harper agreed. “It’s exactly how abusive men wear down strong women. They start with small comments, little criticisms. Then those comments grow. When the woman tries to pull away, he switches into sweet mode again. It’s insipid and painful. So yes, I’m sure Rachel is very strong; she’s had to be. But her family has probably convinced her that she’s not, that she needs them in order to manage.”
“She doesn’t need them!” he snapped. “She needs me! And I need her, damn it!”
Harper smiled gently. “Have you told her that?”
“Yes! But she says that she needs to go help her family!” He shook his head, his hands fisted on his hips. “I can’t let her do that. I can’t let her give up this battle. I love her too much.”
“If they were good…?”
He understood where she was going with that prompt and hated it. But he was honest. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the truth. “Yes. I love her enough that, if they were better for her, I would let her go.” He opened his eyes and looked directly at Harper. “I love her. I just want…I need her to be happy, Harper.”
“That’s good.” She stepped closer to him. “Think, Tarin. Is there something that can get through to her? Something the two of you have done that made her feel powerful and beautiful? You need that crutch to break their power.”
He stared at her and a thought occurred to him. Something that…would it work? It had to work! But even if it didn’t, he would never stop fighting for her. Somehow, he would win her over.
“Thank you! I have an idea,” he whispered, and kissed Harper’s cheek gratefully, ignoring his brother’s growl of protest. Tarin only chuckled and hurried away, eager to put things in play.
Chapter 14
Rachel stepped into the ballroom, thinking back to all of those nights with Tarin in this room. Dancing, laughing, swaying to the music until they couldn’t stand it anymore. Then their race to his bed and…oh, my. She wanted that back. She wanted to be with him, and dance with him, and…!
“Honey, why do you insist on wearing those awful floral dresses?” Denise sneered. “They haven’t been in style for decades.”
Rachel swung around, finding her sister in a glorious evening gown of emerald silk that clung to her figure and made her eyes sparkle even more brightly than normal. Her auburn hair was swept up into a sophisticated twist with small curls dancing daintily around her beautiful features which had been made up with an expert hand. Her makeup wasn’t heavy, but it enhanced her features perfectly, making Denise look like a delicate angel in emerald green.
Her mother sidled up to them with two glasses of champagne. She handed one to Denise and pointedly ignored Rachel, gazing out over the crowd as if she owned the place.
“You look beautiful, Mother,” Rachel murmured, eyeing her mother’s gorgeous dress of champagne silk, decorated with an elaborate beaded design along the bodice, and flaring out in champagne colored chiffon to the floor.
Beside them, Rachel felt…invisible. Before, when she’d first seen the flowing, moss green dress with shimmering flowers that had been mysteriously delivered to her, she’d gasped in delight. She’d dressed here at the palace, because she’d had so many things to check on prior to the event tonight. That meant that she’d only had time to pull her hair up into a simple bun. But she’d still felt pretty in the unexpected dress, especially since it had come with a note from Tarin asking her to wear it tonight.
Now, she felt silly and childish. Silly and unsophisticated and invisible.
“I have some things to check on,” she told her family, stepping away.
“Yes, go and finish your work, dear. But when we get back to Atlanta, I’ll expect you to be more efficient. Never leave things to the last minute.”
Rachel stopped and stared at her mother, shocked all over again. Tarin’s words earlier today had been filtering through her mind and one word kept coming back to her. “Toxic,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.
Denise’s turned sharp eyes towards her. “What was that?” she asked, not bothering to hide her sneer. “You really need to speak up, Rachel. Enunciate. No one likes someone who mutters.”
Rachel tilted her head, hearing the words, but…she didn’t feel her armor crack. She glanced back as she walked away, seeing her mother and her sister bend their heads together as if conspiring, dividing up the room into quadrants, forming a battle plan.
And Rachel didn’t doubt that was exactly what they were doing. Watching, she felt another dent in her armor pop back into place. But…it wasn’t armor exactly. Was it her confidence?
Turning, she left the ballroom, her family oblivious to her departure. Hell, they were oblivious to her!
Or were they?
The question stopped her in her tracks. She paused, one hand reaching for the wall and she shook her head, trying to bring the thought together. Bullies were insecure people. Her mother and sister were bullies! They were mean and demoralizing and
