Trentham Ball (Patreon)

“We have an engagement tonight.”

“We do?” 

“Yes. The Trentham Ball.”

If her cup was full, she would have drenched herself in coffee when she jerked to the edge of her seat. “You got an invitation?”

He nodded as he switched his gaze to his flashing phone. He frowned, clearly not liking what he saw on the screen. 

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said as he turned away. 

She set her cup down with a clatter and leapt to her feet. “Wait! I can’t go to the Trentham Ball! I don’t have anything to wear!”

“A dress will be delivered,” he said, his mind clearly somewhere else.

“You don’t understand. It can’t be some dress off the rack. If—”

“Daiyu made the dress and Sarai has appointments lined up to get you ready for tonight. She’ll send you the details.” 

She stared at him for a few seconds before she asked, “How did Daiyu know I needed a dress?”

He looked up, brows knit with irritation. “What?”

“How long have you known that we’d be attending the Trentham Ball?”

“What does that matter?”

“It matters,” she snapped. 

“Why? You’ve been to hundreds of parties.” 

“The Trentham Ball isn’t a party,” she stressed through clenched teeth. “It’s the most exclusive event of the year. Not even my father was guaranteed to be on the guest list every year. How did you get an invitation?”

“Sullivan.”

“You know Sullivan Trentham?”

His eyes narrowed at her disbelieving tone, but she couldn’t help it. Befriending British royalty was one thing, but the Trentham’s were the untouchables of New York, as interwoven into the city as the Rockefeller’s. Sullivan Trentham was one of the very few her father tread lightly around. 

“We met a long time ago,” he said in a clipped tone. “I don’t have time to talk about this. I’m going to be late for a meeting.”

A dangerous mix of incredulous anger and panic made her throat swell. As a young girl, she dreamed of attending the legendary Trentham Ball, which was rumored to host not just billionaires and former presidents, but prominent world leaders who couldn’t risk offending the Trentham’s and the influence they wielded. Her sisters prepared for this event for weeks, memorizing guest lists, and getting custom gowns made, while Roth gave her mere hours to prepare. Her father had never allowed her to attend the Trentham Ball, where a stray comment could be a social and financial death sentence if someone chose to take offense. This event gathered such an exclusive pool that one could catapult their career a decade or more into the future with one favor. 

She knew they would reenter society at some point, but she never imagined her return would be at such a high-profile event. Just imagining what awaited her made her break out in a cold sweat. Their presence would draw so much negative attention, it would inhibit any networking he tried to do. She got a taste of it at Dad’s funeral—the sidelong looks, the cold shoulders, and the loud whispers about her past scandal. If Roth had told her ahead of time, she could have eased them back into society by going to smaller events to break the ice, but he was leaping into the deep end, and she was pretty sure they were going to drown. 

As she opened her mouth to attempt to explain the magnitude of this event, Roth started for the door, clearly done with the conversation.  

“I’m not going.”

She didn’t shout, but she didn’t have to. He stopped and neatly pivoted to face her. He didn’t say a word, silently pressuring her to retract what she said. 

“I’m not going,” she said again, more firmly than the first time.  

“Yes, you are.”

She crossed her arms over her chest as she prepared to battle. “If you wanted me to go, you should have given me more time to prepare.”

“For what? Everything’s taken care of. What more do you need?”

“This event isn’t like the parties my dad held. This… There’s no comparison. You have no idea what…” She glared at him as he watched her impassively. She slashed her hand through the air. “I can’t go.”

“This isn’t a request. It’s an order.”

Her whirling thoughts ground to a halt. “What?”

“We made a deal. You agreed to fulfill all roles as my wife for the year that I own you,” he stated as he started toward her. “That means when I want you to fuck me, you fuck me. When I want you to travel with me, you pack your fucking bag. And when I tell you to attend an event with me, you do so, no questions asked. In return, I make sure Hennessy & Co doesn’t crumble.”

He stopped before her. Although he was bathed in golden sunlight, it did nothing to soften the brutal lines of his face. 

“Keeping up my end of the deal required more than I anticipated. Tens of millions more and time I don’t have to attend board meetings like the one I’m going to be late for. Because of our deal, I’m going to vouch for your sisters. They’re recouping their losses, but not fast enough to appease the shareholders. I’m putting my money and reputation on the line for you.”

He crowded her, forcing her to crane her neck back to hold his burning gaze. His cologne blanketed her senses, comforting her while she stared into arctic eyes that bore no softness. All warmth was gone as if it had never been.

“Am I wasting my time? Are you breaking our deal?”

Cold spread from the pit of her stomach to her chest. 

“Do I let the board replace your sisters, or do I vouch for them, and you attend the Trentham Ball at my side?”

His threat hung in the air. 

“Are you going to let your sisters be publicly humiliated and ridiculed because you don’t want to spend one evening drinking champagne at a party?”

She swallowed the invisible obstruction in her throat before she rasped, “I’ll go.”

He didn’t seem pacified by her answer. He stayed where he was, his mouth an uncompromising line as he surveyed her upturned face. She was sure there was nothing for him to object to because she felt absolutely nothing and knew her face was as blank as she felt. 

“Are you going to make a scene tonight to get back at me?” 

That was the last thing she wanted. She shook her head. 

“See that you don’t,” he said quietly. “You won’t like the consequences if you plan to retaliate in public. You’ll wear Daiyu’s dress and go to the appointments Sarai made for you, no complaints. Tonight, you smile and play your part.” 

He leaned down. He was so close, she saw her reflection in the obsidian pools of his eyes. 

“I expect to get my money’s worth, Jasmine. Don’t let me down.”

He gave her a brief, sexless kiss that made her insides wither before he walked away. She listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps and, although it should be impossible, knew the exact instant he boarded the elevator and she was alone. 

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

Don't freak out! Lol. Keep in mind, this is a first draft. A lot changes in rewrites. This is what I have at the moment, which could change drastically if some scenes prior to this don't stay in the final.