The Day His Mistress Became His Bride, I Chose His Best Man

Synopsis

Richard Stanton was getting married. Everyone assumed I would know my place. I had been his for seven years with no title and no claim, and he had kept me too comfortably for anyone to expect otherwise. The consensus was that even if he dropped me, I would go quietly and spare everybody a scene. Richard thought so, too. A man like him handled even the discarding of a person neatly, with every detail arranged and nothing left ugly. So on the top floor of his building that afternoon, he sat at the head of the table, spinning a pen between his fingers, and settled my future in a few weightless sentences. "Save her a spot as a bridesmaid. "And the groomsmen from the good families, let her take her pick. "Relax. She's always been good. She knows how I run things, and she knows where she stands." Through the glass, I read every word off his lips. I read the ease in his face too, the certainty of a man who had never once been told no. I gave him exactly what he wanted, and his image came through the whole thing spotless. I was good. I was good enough to straighten his bride's veil at the altar, and then, while the whole room waited for me to fall apart, I took the opening he had handed me and walked out with one of the groomsmen. I was good enough to erase myself from his world without being asked. Later, Richard stood below the altar in a groomsman's suit and watched another man slide a wedding ring onto my finger, and those cold, superior eyes of his finally went red in a way he couldn't hide. That was the moment he finally understood. I wasn't born obedient. I had loved him too much to make anything hard for him. By the time he worked that out, I no longer wanted to go back.