AUTHOR
CHAPTER 1
~Delila~
HAS MY LIFE TRULY COME to this?
I asked as the laces of my corset were tightened, constricting me. My hands were gripping the bedpost while my mother tugged violently against the strings.
Don’t be so dramatic, Delila. Be grateful your father was able to arrange this marriage.
I rolled my eyes at her words. I had turned twenty only months before. My parent’s gift to me was a half-eaten cake I didn’t touch, and a fixed marriage explained as a business decision. The only good parts about this nuptial were not only my escape from my horrible family but also my fiancé. My soon-to-be husband had been named the sexiest man, and the most eligible bachelor of the year in a local cliché women’s magazine. Modern Country featured home-cooked meals, the latest trends for country living decor, as well as the hottest men around. Sadly, it was the only way women around here got their kicks these days. Gawking at half-naked men in tight jeans with no shirts. Studs of their dreams, glistening in sweat as they lifted bales of hay or mucked stalls. I didn’t find shoveling shit in the least bit sexy. I didn’t care how handsome the guy was. Every lonely housewife had a copy of the magazine on their sitting room table.
There was no denying Markus Donovan’s good-looks. A face-fanning heartthrob with dirty-blond hair, blue eyes, and a body built like a brick house. He was the most sought-after bachelor in Wyoming. Being the heir to his family fortune had every woman begging for his attention. Why he would want a fatty by his side was unbeknownst to me. His grandfather, William Donovan had struck it big when crude oil was discovered on their family ranch. Though Markus was handsome, and my body desired his touch like a starving dog craved a bone, I was still repulsed with the wedding. He was ten years older than me, and due to his business partnership with my father, I was placed in this position.
Inability to breathe here,
I complained.
I told you to lay off the cheesecake, Delila,
my mother groaned as she tightened the ties of the corset even more around my lumpy middle, constricting my ability to breathe. I had always been a bigger woman. It wasn’t anything I was ashamed of, but it didn’t stop my mother from cutting me down on a daily basis. If she thought I was a fat cow, I wondered what Markus would think of me.
My mother was careful around my hair as she helped me into my wedding dress. I turned to see myself in the full-length mirror while she secured the buttons along my spine. I looked like a fairy godmother had thrown up all over me. The dress had a silk lining, elegant floral lace pattern, and tiny crystal jewels which adorned every seam, every inch. The bodice was tight and the skirt billowed out, causing me to look even more like a giant cupcake. I felt ridiculous. My mother was standing behind me, glaring with displeasure.
It’s too tight,
I complained.
I told you to watch your diet.
I think you watch it enough for the both of us.
She sighed deeply, You would be so pretty if you only lost a little weight.
I was proud to be a full-figured woman, but her words cut me like a knife. This was supposed to be the one day a mother was supposed to tear up at the sight of her daughter in a wedding dress. I had watched too many movies and hoped for far too much. I snarled, Alright. Let’s get this over with.
Unfortunately, I only had my hair-brained mother to assist me down the stairs. The wedding was being held at the Donovan Ranch. A small secret ceremony with only the bride and groom, our immediate family, plus pack members. The Donovan’s were not ones to boast every chance they got, especially Markus. His family name and random snapshots of him on horseback gave him his fame. It was not intentional, on his part anyway. Being one of the richest people in the world, you had to deal with paparazzi, along with horny women.
The instant my feet hit the ground floor, my ears were filled with the tune of the stomach-churning wedding march being played from outside. The wolf bitch inside me wanted to take flight. I had to resist her need to run while I stepped forward.
Breathe, Delila,
my mother whispered as she pinched the fat of my upper arm.
I wanted to deck her, but kept a smile to my lips as I whispered my reply through clenched teeth, If you pinch me again, it will be the last time.
Just...keep...smiling,
she instructed as my father approached. He glared as he forcefully linked my arm with his. He stood on my right side as they both escorted me down the aisle. They seemed repulsed to even touch me. The feeling was mutual. I loathed them both. My father had a gambling problem, my mother was a spoiled brat with a taste for gin, and three of my sisters were known as the local whores. They had all left home before turning sixteen, but Franny and the twins remained with my parents. I could only hope they wouldn’t turn out like the others had once I officially moved in with my new husband. I wasn’t proud of living with the repulsive people on either side of me. I only remained for the younger ones. I did my best to take care of my wayward sisters, but they were exactly like our parents. Ungrateful and pompous. I often wondered how I ended up being born to such a horrible family.
My mother and I might not exactly get along, but my relationship with my father was nil. He had hoped for a boy when I was born but was greatly disappointed. Trying, again and again, ended with the same result. It was quite comical. Seven girls, just for him. He hated us for being born female. He frowned on the fact that we wouldn’t carry on his name. I loathed him so much, it made me physically ill.
The nuptials went by surprisingly quick. The kiss as husband and wife was cold and dry. I should have gushed over kissing Markus Donovan. He was a woman’s wet dream, but he was emotionless. Absolutely no passion behind our split-second lip-lock. He seemed off put and in a rush to get it over with, even though this was his deal with my father. He kept a constant watchful eye on my guests, especially my father. It was clear he did not like him. Nobody did, including myself. He wasn’t only a drunk, but he had been physically abusive in my younger years, which gave me pause about leaving my little sisters with him.
With our immediate families and pack members in attendance, we made our way to the reception. It was absolutely adorable and exactly what I asked for. If I couldn’t choose my dress or even my husband, I was going to have the after-party I wanted. Plus, I was also allowed to choose the site of the wedding itself. The Donovan Ranch was a gorgeous stretch of land, with wild horses, a grand home, a barn and even a pond for swimming. I had always wanted to see it, and now I had. The sight of the reception had a simple look, which seemed to be plucked directly out of Modern Country. Nothing elaborate. Multi-colored paper lanterns hung from the rafters of the gazebo. Tiny tables with seating for four were graced with mason jar tea-light centerpieces and wildflowers. The food was in a buffet style and drinks were served at a small corner bar. It was perfect. I could at least pretend to
