Chapter 2

Sawyer and I had heard echoes of these stories since we were children, and yet it was only in our adult years that we realized our father was the only one who repeated these stories.

“The lists will be delivered to each of you in a few days,” our father said. “About a week. But until then, you will continue your duties as is.”

Sawyer crossed his arms. “What about the Feldman Offering?”

“Ah,” Forrest grinned. He patted my back. “Wilder has had a difficult time finding someone for that, hasn’t he?”

I narrowed my eyes at Sawyer. He was bitter about what he had given up in the name of the family, while I had nothing that could see the same fate. All I had were the livestock orders. When you held nothing close to you, you couldn’t offer anything up.

“That’s all right, my boy,” Forrest said, slapping my back. “Sawyer and I found you the perfect match.”

I straightened my shoulders. “How?”

My father motioned toward the doors. “Once we finish for the day, we’ll show you.”

In the evening, we drove to Pierce, the nearest city, and went to my father’s favorite meeting place, a gentleman’s club called The Trap. Sawyer’s birthday celebrations had ended here the night before. The establishment never called to me. The women were attractive and they always had a bottle of local whiskey, but what I desired required more control.

The hostess greeted my father and brother with hugs, pressing her breasts into them, and as she went to do the same to me, I crossed my arms, and she winked instead She led us to the VIP section—a long set of couches in a railed off elevated area, with a view of the stage. A pole was in the middle with a dancer twirling around it.

My father ordered us a round of whiskey. I sat to the side, taking in our surroundings. Down on the audience level, there were exits on both sides of the stage, one that led to the back alley and the other to the smoking area. Another exit at the entrance of the club, where we had come in, and presumably another exit for the staff and dancers at the back of the building. Most of the seats were occupied with men grinning up at women wrapped in lingerie. Every customer and dancer had a hollowness in their eyes above their twisted smiles. That forced sense of enjoyment intrigued me. Why pretend?

My eyes sailed over each one, landing on a woman with yellow-blond hair, a stripe of black down the middle, her brown eyes dark as dirt. Chipped white nail polish. A deep purple lipstick on her plump lips. The frayed strap of her red dress. We locked eyes; that same emptiness filled her vision. How could she be at peace with such nothingness? When nothing in our lives mattered? It could end right there if I pulled out my gun.

Forrest knocked his arm into me and I broke eye contact with her. He handed me a highball filled with twice the whiskey of his and Sawyer’s. Always a heavy pour, to remind me that I needed to loosen up. The three of us clinked glasses.

“There’s a girl I’d like you to meet,” Forrest said. “She’s exactly what you wanted.” I waited. What exactly was that? “The physical profile fits well enough.”

My father glanced around, searching for someone. “She works here?” I asked.

“In a way.” A sly smile crossed his lips. “You wanted someone you’d never become attached to, yes?” I nodded.

“That’s not the point of the Feldman Offering, but if there is anyone who can meet your demands, both as a placeholder wife and your duties to

this family, it’s this woman. She’s a prostitute.” “Sex worker,” Sawyer corrected.

For a second, Forrest narrowed his eyes at my brother, then straightened. “Yes. Sex worker. Nonetheless, she’s used to being paid to make people think she’s in love.”

A woman like that would never be able to show genuine affection. Every moment would always be transactional, and that appealed to me. It made sense. Neither of us would forget our place.

“And you’ve spoken to her about this?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not,” our father said. “But I have spoken to her—” he paused, grinning to himself, “—her guardian. You know I’m very convincing.” Darkness flashed behind his eyes. When Forrest didn’t get his way, he made sure everyone paid for it until he was given exactly what he wanted on a silver platter. Even if it came to a strange woman he wanted to marry me. “It’s been arranged. You’ll marry her in a week.”

A future with a woman wasn’t something I often contemplated. Why bother? In the end, there was no use for her, besides our Feldman Offering, which kept the Feldmans prospering longer than any family in our line of work.

Our cow-calf operation was only a cover.

As long as I was able to control her—who she was, what she meant, what she stood for—then I would take that chance.

“Where’s my future wife?” I asked.

Forrest motioned to that woman with the yellow hair and the purple lips. Sweat beaded her forehead, gleaming under the stage lights. She was small but solid enough to put up a fight. A vacant smile formed on her lips as she bent toward a man, batting her eyelashes at him. Like she meant it.

Like he meant the world to her.

She was perfect.

“What’s her name?” I asked.

“Her real name is Maisie Ross,” he said. “But here, she goes by Crystal.”