Chapter 8: The Power Play

As the great extravaganza opened out before them, the nighttime air was heavy with expectancy. Under the beautiful golden lights, guests mixed, sipping champagne and chatting, but all Scar could feel was the weight of Tucker's icy stare on her. Every conversation felt like a foreign language she didn't quite grasp, and their absolute affluence felt stifling. Standing next to Tucker, Scarlet's arm connected with his created the ideal image of a couple with it all except they lacked. Every gaze she received set her heart racing. It was intolerable, the whispers of the elite, the wondering eyes, the way everyone watched her every movement as though waiting for her to slip-off. Tucker had a strong, relentless hold on her arm. As always, his face was a blank mask, his eyes darting the room as though the people in it were merely more challenges in his kingdom. Heads turned as they negotiated the throng. Conversations stopped. Every eye turned to scarlet, as though she were an imposter, someone inappropriate for the sparkling world of wealth and power.

She tried to maintain her head high and excellent posture, but the quiver in her hands betrayed her control. Tucker's apathy was evident. The gulf between them widened as he pushed her to play the ideal billionaire's wife, to smile. You are doing this for your family and the house. Not overlooked is that, Low in voice, Tucker's breath warmed her ear as they slid into a quiet section of the banquet. Remind her of the transaction she had made whereby she had sold herself to salvage the only thing she had left of her parents. The words sliced through her like a knife. She looked at him for a moment, searching for some sign of something anything under the coldness but found nothing. Her voice tense, she murmured back, "I'm doing this because I have no choice." Tucker replied nothing. Rather, he retreated, looking down on her with a contempt that made her feel less than she had ever been.

His face never changed, but beneath it there was a fracture in the façade. Though she knew better, Scar wanted to yell and toss all the wrath she felt at him. She had no control in this game, and he was the one tugging every thread. When they got back to the mansion, the great halls were solemn and commanding as always late. Scarlet hardly had time to take off her heels when she heard Tucker's voice muffled coming from his study. < His comments were cutting and frustrating, but tonight the sound of them struck her differently. Something wasn't right. She discovered him seated at his desk, hands clutching the edge as if he were clinging to something more than mere furniture. His ordinarily sharp features suddenly looked tired, worn down by something deeper than mere tiredness; his face was contorted in misery. Though it had always been a constant, tonight his sleeplessness seemed more intense and consuming. She had never seen him this fragile this damaged. Scarlet stopped in the doorway unsure of what to do. She virtually turned away for a moment. She stepped forward, though, propelled by the part she had buried deep inside that still cared.

"Are you alright?" Her voice was low, hardly above a whisper. She still cared, hence she wasn't sure whether she meant it or whether she was asking since it was the moral thing to do. She wanted to leave, but the pity still between them would not let her. Tucker first did not respond; his jaw tightened in irritation. When he did glance at her, his eyes revealed something she could not understand—perhaps even regret—pain, rage, maybe even guilt. He said, "I don't need your pity," but his remarks lacked any venom. His voice broke slightly, the façade flaking momentarily. Scarlet stepped in closer, but he flicked back. His fragility drew her in even if she had gotten used to coldness. It was like a magnet. She stepped to his side and rested a hand on his shoulder without thinking, a small gesture that meant so much to both of them once. It felt, for a moment, like they were living in prehistory before all altered. Before their walls were erected separating them. Tucker's look softened, but he soon closed off once more. Though there was a weariness behind it, his voice was icy and he replied, "Don't believe this changes anything." "I am not an idiot, Scarlet." She nodded slowly and turned away as, as always, the distance between them grew once more. Deep down, though, she knew this brief lapse would not be forgotten. Neither of them could completely overlook something there was.

From the first, Wyatt Lockwood had been a shadow hovering over everything. His influence was felt even in his absence, his manipulation running over Tucker's life like a poisonous vine.

Scarlet felt it more sensibly tonight than she had ever done. She had spent the day attempting to separate herself from the resentment and treachery boiling under the surface of her marriage. When she was in the middle of the happenings, it was easy to overlook the poisonous character of her circumstances; but, the instant the night grew quiet, it returned strongly. Now, standing across the room from Wyatt Lockwood, she could feel his eyes piercing her. With his back turned when Wyatt walked in, Tucker was chatting with some business associates on the other side of the room. The smile of the elder man was chilly, deliberate, completely devoid of affection. He was immaculate in a custom suit, his gray hair slicked back with a gloss commensurate with his arrogance. As Wyatt's eyes swept over her, a slow, methodical investigation that made her skin crawl, Scarlet shivered with discomfort. He moved forward, slanted so his words hardly audible to her. With a thin-lipped smile, he continued, "You may have won this round, Scarlet, but you will never really belong in our family. You are really only a pawn. and Tucker? He will never pardon your actions toward him. Scarlet struggled to calm her breath, her heart pounding. In one sense Wyatt was a pawn; Tucker was using her for his own benefit. But what did he mean when he forbade her from forgiving? Had Tucker discovered the truth during these years? Wyatt went back into the throng and his smile never wavered before she could answer. Her shaking and bewilderment resulted from the conflict between them lingering like smoke in the air. Lost in conversation on the opposite side of the room, Tucker seemed to ignore. Scarlet couldn't get rid of the impression, though, that Wyatt's comments constituted a threat rather than only a warning. She also stood at the middle of it all.