Charlotte:

I see something flash through Anthony Crosswalk's eyes as his son ignores him.

I look away when he glances down at me. Goosebumps rise on my skin as I feel his gaze on me. He is an intimidating man.

"Excuse him. He's not used to not getting what he wants."

I appreciate his honesty, despite his words.

"It's alright Mr. Crosswalk. If he loves someone else, why not get married to her?"

"I'm sure you of all people know how our world works, Ms. Daymond. We don't marry for love. It is a mere abstract concept. Marriage is just a tactful strategy to further improve our businesses."

I shake my head vehemently, completely at odds with his words, but I know it's useless arguing with men of his power. Men like my father. They're thick headed and refuse to listen to what the other person has to say. If Sebastian's childhood was anything like mine, then I feel sorry for him.

Everyone knows about Anthony Crosswalk and his ruthless reputation. I could guess having him as a father is not an easy feat, so I don't hold Sebastian's rude behavior against him.

"Well, I guess I should leave now. It was nice meeting you Mr. Crosswalk."

It wasn't a pleasure to meet you. My heart was pounding furiously the entire time and if I stay any longer, I may risk the chance of getting a heart attack.

"My intention was not for you to meet me. It was for you to meet my son. I could have closed a deal in this time."

I look down at my shoes. I can't help but think it's all my fault. Maybe I could have dressed up nicer. Put on more make-up. Made an effort. But, at the same time, he could have told his son to put some effort too.

"I should go now." I inform him and abruptly take my leave.

"Franco." I smile at my driver.

"Where to, Ms. Daymond?"

"Let's go to the boutique."

"Very well."

We exit the gates of the Crosswalk household and enter the familiar traffic of New York.

My wedding boutique, Charlotte's Secrets, located in SoHo, attracts all brides. It's all about the location, after all. We're a boutique and wedding planning combined.

I thank Franco and exit the car. I take a moment to appreciate the chic, yet rustic building. My life's work. With a bright smile on my face, I step inside, and the air conditioning slaps me in the face, cooling my heated skin.

"Good morning Ms. Charlotte."

"Just Charlotte is fine Harper. Any new customers?"

I hear her click away on the keyboard.

"Two actually. One is supposed to meet you in the afternoon. Precisely at three o'clock."

"Perfect. I'll be in my office if you need me for anything."

She nods and I go into my office cabin at the back. Dropping my handbag on the loveseat, I sit down in my chair and start up my computer.

Just as I'm about to open our accounts, I get a call from father dearest.

I pick up on the first ring because God forbid, Charles Daymond even wait a second.

"Charlotte." His stern voice rings out.

"Father." I greet softly.

"Have you met Sebastian Crosswalk?"

"More like his father."

"Anthony?"

"Yes, father. Anthony Crosswalk. Look Dad, Sebastian is in love with someone else. Why do I have to marry him?" I hold my breath for his response, which I expect won't be too nice.

"Who he loves is irrelevant. Me and Anthony will both benefit from this union. We have both agreed upon it, and that is what is most important."

With a frown, I say, "Yes, Father."

"I know you're frowning. Stop that."

I let out a deep breath and focus on the conversation.

"How's Mom?"

His tone immediately changes into a soft, loving one.

"She's wonderful. Worries about you everyday. You should come visit this weekend."

His words create a pang in my chest. I miss her so much.

"I'll try my best to."

"Daymonds don't try Charlotte. They do. You are a Daymond and this is the least I expect from you."

"Yes, father. I have to go. Take care."

"The same goes to you Charlotte."

I hang up and sigh heavily, resting my chin on my palm. How is it going to be to plan my own wedding? One that I don't want. One that the groom, himself doesn't want. A wedding that, only our fathers want for us.

I shake my head of those thoughts and focus on work.

By the end of the day, I'm beat and before I go, I tell Harper to clear my schedule for the weekend.

What Father wants, Father gets.

I look down at my phone to book a flight to Arkansas. I could use Dad's private jet, but I don't think it's worth taking the jet just for one passenger.

When I step outside, I collide with someone and my phone crashes to the ground.

"Mr. Crosswalk, what are you doing here?" I ask as I bend to pick up my phone, checking for cracks.

Anthony Crosswalk looks at me through narrowed eyes. He and his son share the same bone structure. High cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Whereas his son's jaw is peppered with stubble, Anthony has a neatly trimmed beard.

"I came to see how my future daughter-in-law's business looks like. Maybe I'd even buy it if I like it well enough."

Rare anger bubbles in my chest at his words, so with the sweetest smile on my face, I say,

"I'm sorry Mr. Crosswalk, but it's not for sale."

I see his lips quirk up in the faintest of smiles, before it's gone. It makes me wonder if it was just my imagination.

"Where are my manners? Come. I'll show you around."

So, I make introductions between him and Harper and show him around. The wedding dress section, the trial section, my office, and the brainstorming section. It's like a sun room really, with glass walls, a high vaulted ceiling, plants and warm colored lights.

By the time I'm done showing him around, I don't know whether he's impressed or not.

His sharp ringtone cuts through my thoughts. He picks it up on the second ring and listens to what the other person says.

"What do you mean?"

I watch different emotions flit across his face. Disbelief, hurt, disappointment, and finally anger.

"I trusted you with this, and you sabotage me for what? All because I won't allow you to marry a no good whore?"

Ah, so that must be his son. Whatever Sebastian says makes Anthony's eyes flare.

"Sebastian!" He shouts his name with such high volume, that I flinch and a lock of his black hair falls on his forehead, that, which had been previously neatly gelled back.

He catches my flinch through his peripheral vision and places his hand on top of my head. His gesture is shocking, because I can only assume he's trying to reassure me.

When he ends the call, he removes his hand from my head and brushes the lock of hair away from his forehead.

"Excuse me. I'll have to go now."

My tongue is too twisted to form any words, so I just nod and watch him walk to his car, get into the driver's side, and drive off.

Anthony:

"Charlotte's parents have invited us to lunch at their place. Clear your schedule for the weekend."

He crosses his arms over his chest, an arrogant look on his face. When he does that, all I can see is Della, and I prefer not to remember her.

"Who said I'm going?"

"Sebastian. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"I'm not going. You can drag me, but I don't think you'd succeed."

I may be taller than my son, but he's buffer.

I can't threaten his inheritance for every miniscule thing. That is the one card I have already used.

"Why don't you get to know Charlotte? She's smart and successful." I don't say that she's beautiful, since it may not be age appropriate of me.

I only want the best for Sebastian.

"But she's not Adeline." He counters and I almost lose it.

"So you want Charlotte to be a whore?"

He smacks the wall in anger, looking like the spitting image of me. Every time I look at myself in my bathroom mirror at night. The same anger and hatred in his eyes.

"She. Is. Not. A. Whore." He seethes and I decide to calm myself down first. She doesn't possess a magic pussy, so I fail to understand how he's so caught up in her web.

"I don't care to chat about your wh-Adeline." I catch myself before the word whore slips out again.

"It's a request Sebastian. They want to meet their future son-in-law."

"I'm actually busy this weekend. I'll pay them a visit next weekend."

I narrow my eyes at that. "Do I have your word Sebastian?"

He rolls his eyes. "Yes, sir. I have to go."

I walk into my study about to tell Charles we won't be able to make it, but stop myself. Declining a first invitation is never good.

I dial Charles's number and wait for him to pick up. He does on the third ring.

"Anthony. You will be making it this weekend, correct?"

"Mr. Daymond, I will be making it, but unfortunately, my son has to attend a business meeting in London, so he won't be able to make it."

"That's fine, and stop with the Mr. Daymond. Call me Charles. We are to be in-laws soon, after all."

It's odd to call him Charles, considering the fact that he's a near stranger to me, but I relent.

"Alright Charles."

"How will you be arriving?"

"I'll bring my private jet."

"Would you mind bringing Charlotte with you?"

My eyebrows scrunch on their own.

"Of course not."

I hear a faint sigh.

"Thank you. She doesn't want to use my jet because she says it's a waste of fuel. She always flies commercial."

For some reason, that draws a chuckle out of me.

"It's the least I can do." He thanks me again and we hang up.

______________________________________

Charlotte:

I jolt awake when my phone rings. I run my palm down my face, realizing that I fell asleep on the couch.

I pat the couch, searching for my phone, until my palm wraps around cool metal.

"Hello?"

"Charlotte. I hope you didn't book the plane ticket yet." My Dad's voice makes me sit up on the couch.

"No Father, I was just about to." I was actually sleeping, but he doesn't need to know that. I never did get back to booking the ticket after my collision with Anthony.

"Well don't. I've invited the Crosswalks over. Sebastian will not be able to make it, but Anthony will be coming by himself in his jet. You can join him."

"Oh that's nice Dad, but it's not necessary."

"I wasn't giving you an option Charlotte."

I can literally imagine him raising his eyebrow at me.

"It's really fine Dad. I can come by myself." That sounded extremely dirty, so I correct myself.

"What I mean to say is that I can book a commercial ticket. No big deal."

"You're intimidated by Anthony, aren't you?" His tone is surprisingly mirthful. I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Of course not." I say immediately, giving myself away.

He laughs and my heart warms at that. I wish he laughed more often.

"You should get used to him baby doll. He is going to be your father-in-law and he's one of the best men I know. You know I only choose the best for you."

"But Dad, you chose his son for me." I point out the obvious.

"Of course I did silly girl. What I'm trying to tell you is that a good man will raise a good man. That's all."

"Alright Dad. When do I get ready?"

"I'm sure Anthony will text you the details."

"But he doesn't have my number."

"He's highly resourceful and influential. I'd be surprised if he didn't already have your number."

That sounds wrong on so many levels, but I let it be.

"Goodnight Charlotte."

"Goodnight Dad."

"Oh and Charlotte? Don't work yourself too much."

"Alright Dad." I smile and hang up.

I get off the couch and stretch my muscles, moaning when my shoulders pop. I'll need a good massage one of these days.

I change out of my work clothes into a comfortable oversized shirt. I reheat some macaroni in the microwave and eat it for dinner, considering I'm too tired to cook myself something. I chug down a Sprite with it. When I've finished the can, I burp loud and some of the macaroni comes back up, but I swallow it back down again.

Woah. Not doing that again. Note to self: Don't chug Sprite after eating macaroni. I clean up the dishes and double check the front door locks.

When I'm sure they're locked up nice and tight, I check my windows and once I'm satisfied, I go into my bedroom. I actually wanted a one bedroom apartment, but I decided to get a two bedroom one instead, so it would be convenient if I had any guests over. It's rarely occupied, but I clean it every week.

I switch off the lights, including the lamp, and close the curtains. I shut the closet tight and run to my bed and go under the covers, even covering my face. I don't want a ghost staring back into my eyes if I pull down my covers.

With an image of an ideal wedding dress floating through my mind, I go to sleep.

Charlotte:

The next morning, I brush my teeth, take a shower and pack a bag. When I finish zipping up the bag, my phone buzzes with a text. I open it and find an address to a private airport.

I eat an apple and banana for breakfast and sling my bag over my shoulder, locking the door behind me.

Franco, being his usual punctual self, waits for me.

"Good morning Franco." I toss him an apple which he deftly catches.

"Good morning Ms. Daymond."

"Oh Franco, just call me Charlotte." I say over my shoulder as I get into the backseat of the car. He closes the door and gets behind the wheel.

"Where to Ms. Daymond?"

I sigh. "We need to go to Teterboro Airport."

He nods and starts the engine. I look through my phone to check my mail and respond to the ones that say 'Immediate response required'.

When I'm done, I have nothing else to do, so I decide to bother Franco. He's only been my driver from the past two weeks.

"Franco, are you married?"

He laughs.

"For the past 25 years miss."

I lean in between the seats.

"Well, how come you've never talked about your wife?"

"It is not professional."

"Well, what's her name?"

"Beatrice, but I call her Bea."

"She sounds lovely. Tell me more."

"We got married fresh out of high school. I had some jobs here and there and Bea is an excellent baker. We were doing quite well. Then, we had little Susanna. A few years later, Phineas came along."

"Susanna? Phineas? How come you never introduced me to them?" I'm just teasing, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Anna lives in Houston with her husband and their son. Phineas works in Ohio."

"Well, you sure must miss them. Do you visit them?"

"Twice a year. Phin takes us to live with him, and when we insist, he drops us off at Anna's. Then, we come back here, off to do our respective jobs."

I remain quiet the rest of the ride, thinking about his family. How he must miss his children and grandchild. Poor Franco.

We finally reach the airport and I thank Franco. He offers to carry my bag, but I refuse.

The security checks pass by swiftly and I board the jet, to find Anthony already seated there. I'm impressed by the simple, yet luxurious interior of the jet. It's all plush leather seats, glossy wood veneers and a beige silk carpet lining the surface.

I can either sit beside him or across from him. I don't know him well enough to sit beside him, so I choose to sit opposite to him. He's on his laptop anyway.

"Good morning Mr. Crosswalk."

He gives me a nod in acknowledgement. One would think he would tell me to stop calling him Mr. Crosswalk by now.

He hides a cough behind his palm.

"Call me Anthony."

I hide my face behind my hands.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that aloud."

"But you did." He removes the reading glasses perched on his nose and stares at me. I try to stay still, but I end up shifting uncomfortably.

The stewardess comes just in time. A blonde bombshell.

"Would you like anything miss?" Her voice is a bit sad and her smile seems forced.

"Do you have salted peanuts?"

"We sure do." She removes a bag of peanuts and hands them to me.

"Do you have Oreos? Because you look as delicious as an Oreo. Now all you need is some cream filling." I say in a deep voice and wiggle my brows at her.

She ends up laughing and her eyes crinkle at the corners, unlike before.

She asks Anthony if he wants anything and he just gets a water. I toss some peanuts into my mouth and take out my laptop.

"Thank you for letting me fly with you Mr. Crosswalk."

He doesn't look up at me as he says,

"You wanted to call me by my first name, yes? So, why the formality now?"

I laugh nervously.

"Well, it'll take some getting used to."

"I am going to be your future father-in-law. Get used to it faster." Rude.

"But Sebastian doesn't even want to get married to me."

"What Sebastian wants doesn't matter. He doesn't know what's best for him. You both are to be married. That's final."

I want to argue on that, but I stop myself. Whatever I say to him isn't going to change his mind.

We remain quiet for the remainder of the flight, with him doing his work and me doing mine.

We soon land and I have to practically run to catch up with his long strides.

He gets into a black SUV and I climb in after him.

The driver starts driving without Anthony needing to tell him the address.

The ride is spent in uncomfortable silence. I try to make small talk.

"So Sebastian..."

"Is on a business trip to London."

I wonder if he'll be on a business trip to Ibiza or Paris or Italy on the day of our wedding.

The car stops in front of the iron gates of my parents' home. A minute later, the gates open and I stare at the fresh green grass on either side of the driveway. Surprisingly, my father stands in front of the house when we get out of the car. He's dressed surprisingly casual, in a black Polo shirt and white shorts.

"Anthony, so nice to see you in the flesh." They shake hands while I watch in the sidelines.

"Charlotte. How have you been?" He pats my hair.

"Never better." I give him a small smile.

"Where's Mom?" I ask.

"She's been waiting for you guys all day. We're sad that Sebastian couldn't make it, but we're glad you did. Come on, let's go out into the patio. Elise is waiting there."

I place my bag against the banister on the way as we go out into the patio.

I hug my Mom as soon as I see her. Elegant as always. Brown hair in a straight Bob, white pearls around her neck, and a demure green dress covering her body.

"Anthony, a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise Mrs. Daymond." He plants a small kiss on the back of my mother's hand, which causes her to blush.

"Elise." She corrects him.

"Come. Let's have lunch."

We all sit at the table. My parents beside each other and me, opposite to Mom with Anthony opposite to Dad.

Garlic bread, chips and guacamole, stuffed mushrooms, beef stroganoff, and cottage pie with vegetables, no doubt for me, as I don't eat red meat, creamy Mac and cheese, honey glazed pork chops and an apple pie for desert.

I tuck a handkerchief into the collar of my shirt and start eating.