Margot

I could feel the anger rolling off me in waves as I run back to my wing of the estate. Lucky for me, it was only a few stairwells and one long hallway till I was back to sitting in my new bedroom. I must have left my shoes in my hurry to escape. At some point I will have to do a walk of shame back to retrieve them. Realization dawns on me as I remember I just slapped the man that I was supposed to be warming up to. We would be sharing a bed soon and I might have just royally fucked myself.

Oh well. It was worth it.

He hopes this marriage is worth my while? He is well aware of my sister’s death. Yet he sat there acting like I had begged for this. Like I had signed up for this life, knowing that I was just the back up choice. Vivienne’s face comes into my mind and I can’t help but imagine how she would have loved my first meeting with my future husband. She would have burst into a fit of laughter, probably called him a dick, and we would have plotted out my next move.

Because at the end of the day, I would have to try to smooth that over. No matter if he thinks I am in this for the wealth and business benefits, I will have to see him later tonight and act like everything is okay. I am bound in my ancestral duty to the Accord and my family, so I would have to do better in the future. But for now, I look at my hand and smile at the sting.

While I was gone, someone, Celia I presume, left a white dress on the bed for me. It was going to be tight on me, with bottom layers of tulle and a corset beaded. An inspection of the tag tells me it is a Vera Wang wedding dress. I had already picked my dress for the ceremony weeks ago and this wasn’t it. The Crimson Ball lasted an entire month, and I was getting married in a week. Was I expected to wear a wedding dress every night? Like it was a not so subtle reminder of the big event for this ball, I was going to be on display apparently.

Throwing myself on the bed, I plucked my headphones off the side table and blasted the playlist I had made after Vivienne’s death. It was full of tears and grief, but I needed to feel something. Anything concrete. I felt like a deer about to be offered to a lion and tonight there would be more than one lion ready to feast on me.

I had never been to a ball before. Spending an entire month here never appealed to me before. Not that I was ever invited, my father had come with other higher ups in our family and the business, but it always seemed like a boys club to me. I didn’t have a strong hand in the family business, just some marketing for new real estate expansions here or there. Vivienne had come two years ago. I remember her coming home regaling her experience with exaggeration. And now I was stepping into her shoes. This is supposed to be her wedding, her future, and her husband. The music blasted in my ears and tears rolled down my face.

I don’t know how long I laid there crying and overthinking, but some time later beyond the music, I heard a knock at the door. Coughing to clear my throat, I stand up and wipe my face. I know I looked like a sad excuse for a bride right now, yet I open the door, hoping it is no one important. Staring at me, is plump little Celia who is all smiles.

In a sweet gesture she ignores my undoubtedly red, blotchy skin and swollen eyes and immediately begins her job of getting me dressed. “Did you see the dress? I tried to stop by, but you were out and I wanted to make sure you got the chance to review it before tonight. I can pull something else if you want though. I ordered about forty outfits for you. Although it is tradition that you will wear white, we can add some color here and there,” she says as she pulls out the dress and holds it up against my body.

“It’s beautiful Celia. You did well. This is very much my style. It’s like you know me or something.” I laugh at how true it is. I would have picked this dress out myself, in another life for another event.

She gives me a coy smile, “Well I did do my research to be honest. A little bit of online stalking can tell me a lot about what you prefer when it comes to fashion. I was told that you did pick a dress for the ceremony though, so I did not pick anything out for that, but if you change your mind, just let me know!” Her excitement and happiness should be contagious, but it reminds me that this wasn’t the path I was supposed to be on and the tears start up again. I can tell she picks up on the shift in my attitude, because she immediately grasps my hands. Her sweaty palms are probably a testament that she too is nervous.

“I am going to make you the most beautiful woman tonight. I’m sure this is a lot and overwhelming you up here,” she says as she taps her pointer finger against my head. “But this is what I am good at. And while I can’t fix everything, I can make sure you look your best. As my momma says: "We must look our best so that we distract others and ourselves from our thoughts.”

I smile at her weird attempt at making me feel better and whisper a “thank you” and put my hands up in surrender, “have your way with me”. That makes us both smile and I try to find the strong woman in me who slapped her fiance a few hours ago. I am an Astor and I am going to do what I came here to do. Taking calming breaths, I repeat this mantra in my head while Celia begins working on my hair.

The gentle brushing of my hair and quiet atmosphere eventually hushes my inner monologue from freaking out. I feel the tension roll off my shoulders as Celia takes a break to admire her work. Fixing a stray wisp of my bangs, she smiles to herself. “I think it is time for a drink,” she says while she disappears in the living area that connects my father’s room with my own. In two minutes she is back with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “My momma has another saying, something about how a glass of bubbly can fix any nerves.” Handing me a glass so full that the champagne spills a bit, she smiles and waves a hand at me to encourage a sip.

I forgo sipping and down the whole glass in a few seconds. Celia’s wide eyes tell me that wasn’t the reaction she was expecting, but again she refrains from commenting, giving me more grace than I expected. And for the first time, I consider who she is as a person. She is here no doubt to benefit her family, her southern charm drips off her in every sentence she says and she seems genuine. If I was going to be stuck getting ready every day to be paraded for the Founding Ten, I was glad she was here.

I let my mind drift as she finishes getting me ready. Less than an hour later, my hair is pinned back, my makeup is completed, and my body has been slid into the corset dress. Celia is at my feet helping me step into my heels and starts to clap, startling me out of my mindless thoughts. “My work here is done, take a look please,” she says as she holds my hand to guide me to the floor to wall mirror that is in the bathroom.

My look takes me by surprise and my mouth hangs open on seeing myself for the first time. My hair is in a half up style with curls down my back. My blue eyes are complimented by the light smokey eye look she has given me. And the dress. Even prettier on, I see myself as a bride for the first time. Celia has chosen red heels that are covered by my dress. She called it a secret act of rebellion.

Looking over at her, I see her beaming. “You’re an artist Celia. Thank you.” I give her the most genuine smile I can muster considering my emotional state right now.

“You are most welcome Ms. Astor. I will send your father over. Everyone should be here by now. I will give you a few minutes and come collect the both of you when it is time to go downstairs.” And with that she is gone. A woman on a mission.

My father is pleased to see my appearance when he strolls in my room. He’s dressed in a black tux and his bald head is as shiny as ever. For a man in his 50s, he’s in pretty good shape and I can see the muscles through his shirt as he takes it off to stand under the air condition vent. He was sweating as if he was the one about to get served on a platter.

“Nervous father? I can teach you the breathing exercises my therapist suggests.” I half jokingly tell him, expecting him to berate me, but instead he looks displeased that we are here in this room. A frown sits upon his face as his gaze roams the room, the makeup over the bathroom counter, the suitcase in the corner. After a few seconds, all he says is “I am sorry Margot.”

I don’t even know what he expects me to say. He was born into this bloodline too. Today I might be giving away a piece of my life, but he has given plenty too. Duty is bred into our blood.

Celia comes at the perfect time and knocks on the partially opened bedroom door and prepares us to enter the party. “Okay Astor family! We are going to go downstairs together, the doors will open to the main dining area, the ballroom, if you will. You will be announced and then you sit. The King will be in after you once everyone settles. If it seems formal, it’s because it is. This is tradition for every season, especially during an Accord marriage.” She talks to us like she’s a Disney tour guide and we’re the bumbling tourists who have no idea what is the next step. It’s fitting though. I might know some of the inner workings of the Accord, but these minute details left me clueless. In this moment, I was thankful to have her.

We both are silent in our responses, only nodding. She gestures at us with a wave and I follow my father out of our wing of the house. I have spent years in heels and dresses and my outfit tonight thankfully doesn’t cause any problems as we climb the stairs down to the main floor. As we walk, I think of the last time I felt like my life was normal.

If I was being honest, it never felt normal. We were rich, we had secrets, and we were constantly in the media. Years ago, long before there was talk of any marriages, I remember feeling at peace knowing what my normal everyday was and ever since Vivienne died, I hadn’t been able to hold any consistency. Maybe my new normal wouldn’t be as bad as I was imagining.

With every step I took I was slowly falling behind Celia and my father. Looking up, I could see them a full 50 feet in front of me down the dark hallway. Taking a breath, I began to pick up the pace of my steps, but light from a cracked door on the right side of the hallway caught my attention and made me pause. A few inches between the door and the frame was enough for me to see in the large room. A study of some kind, the walls were lined with bookshelves and an overwhelming amount of books. A desk was the main focal point of the room, it overlooked the property’s garden.

That in itself wasn’t concerning. But what caused me to stop in my tracks was my future husband who sat behind the desk. His white shirt unbuttoned at the neck and opened to display his sculpted chest. A blonde woman wearing a white linen short nightgown was draped over his lap. His mouth was on her neck as he drank from her. He had one hand firmly holding her neck in place and the other was between her legs moving in ways that I couldn’t entirely see.

Soft moans were coming from the girl, her eyes shut as if she was enjoying it just as much as he was. As if he sensed me staring, he stopped drinking and jerked his head up to meet my eyes. He doesn’t smile or make a move other than removing his hand from the girl’s thighs. As if challenging me , he holds my gaze and delivers me a wink so quick that I question if I imagined it.

“Don’t linger, Margot,” my father belts from down the hallway. My head snaps to his voice and I disengage from the scene I just witnessed.

As I catch up to him, he offers me his hand as if I didn’t just see my future husband drinking and fingering a random girl ten minutes before our union is announced officially.

I take his hand anyway and he squeezes it tightly. “You look like a deer in headlights. Are you ready? We need you to present strongly. Where is that Astor fire?” Knowing that tonight is important for him too, I paint a smile on my face, swallow my angry thoughts and lift my chin.

“Of course, I am ready. I’m an Astor, aren’t I?”

The doors in front of us open wide as my name is announced to the crowd.

And I am handed over to the lions.