Becoming Mrs Astor

CHAPTER 1

ANYA'S POV

"Mother says you should get dressed. Mr Baron will be here soon."

Eleanor's statement was confirmation of what I knew was going to come eventually. My parents had decided to marry me off to an old, pervy loser.

"Tell her I am indisposed."

"Anya-" My younger sister started to speak, most definitely to try and reason with me.

"I am indisposed, Eleanor. Tell mother." My emphasis on 'mother' was a reminder to Eleanor that the person we were referring to was not our mother, she was a beautiful witch called Adline; the woman that birthed us was in fact long dead, and the sorry excuse for a father that I had could not wait to wife up the young lady who had caught his fancy while my mother battled with her mental health.

My younger sister shrugged and walked out of my room while I prepared myself for the storm that was fast approaching.

My door burst open a few seconds sooner than I had anticipated and my sneering stepmother stood in the doorway.

"You will get dressed at once, young lady! You-"

"Mother," I said sweetly, my tongue laced with sarcasm, "I am feeling unwell. What is it about this visit that is so important, I have to leave my bed?"

"Don't play silly games with me, girl."

I chuckled at her calling me 'girl' when she was not more than five years older than me. I understood marrying a rich man for his wealth but she didn't have to play this silly role of a faux mother.

"Look, I'm feeling under the weather, and you are not going to make me come meet your guest, unless you want to run the risk of me throwing up all over him. What's Baron coming here for anyway?"

"You don't know? And your father always praises you for your intelligence."

"Well, I guess he's wrong, and the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, otherwise, how did he end up with..." I swallowed the 'you' for dramatic effect

Her breathing intesified and she said "Just you wait" before turning on her heels and stomping out. I revelled in my victory over her. Pissing her off did me no good, because Father always took her side, but the satisfaction of prevailing over her was enough for me.

Soon, Eleanor returned to my room with another message.

"You pissed her off, didn't you? Father is calling you to his chambers."

I rolled my eyes and rolled off my bed. When mom was alive, Father used to be just 'Dad' and his 'chambers' was his room. We spoke to him and about him in a very formal manner, and I would have it no other way. I didn't bother trying to even appear sick because it wouldn't matter; Adline had him around her thumb, and what she said stood. I could bet my entire inheritance that marrying me off to Baron was her idea.

"What is the meaning of this behaviour?" He barked the second I walked into the room. Later, I would realize that those were the first words he spoke to me that day as we had not even said hello to each other since we woke.

"What behaviour, Father?"

"Why won't you dress to receive your suitor?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I had one."

Adline scoffed.

"Look, Anya, I'm in no mood to entertain your haughtiness. Go up to your room, get dressed and be ready to welcome Mr Baron. He has asked me for your hand."

"And what was your response?"

"What do yo think? Don't waste any more time. He is already on his way."

"Then I'm afraid he is going to be disappointed."

"What?"

"I am not going to marry Baron, so I see no need to participate in this debauchery."

Adline chirped in. "Don't you have any respect?"

"I do, and I wouldn't be inserting myself in a father and daughter conversation, 'Mother'."

"How dare you, Anya? You disrespect her, you disrespect me!" My father rose to his feet now.

"I sincerely apologize, Father." I bowed my head slightly. "But on the matter of Baron, I will not marry him, and you can not make me."

I walked out to their utmost shock. I too was shocked at my guts even though I had been preparing myself for this moment for years.

I raced to my room and locked the door behind me, because my father would definitely come banging on my door.

"Open this door this minute, Anya!" His knocks were frightening; I had not seen or heard him with such a temper in a long time. He often had what seemed to be a very rehearsed aloofness from us. "Open this door or I will kick it down!"

"I will not, Father! I will not marry that old fool too!" Despite my bravery, tears were forming in my eyes as I spoke.

Truly, he kicked the door in and grabbed me by the shoulders.

"Are you crazy? Do you think you have a choice? It is already done! Finished."

"No! No!" I shook my head vehemently tears were flowing freely now.

"Why, Anya?" He had calmed down a little now, and seemed to be genuinely asking. What did he expect to hear apart from the obvious? Gee, I dunno, Father, I don't want to live the rest of my life with some ogre over twice my age. I was just twenty. How could they expect me to willingly walk into this death sentence?

"Because... because, I'm pregnant."

His hands dropped from my shoulders.

"What did you just say?"

I shook slightly from fear. What in God's name was I doing? I swallowed a lump of saliva and doubled down on my lie.

"I'm- I'm pregnant, Dad."

I said 'Dad' instead of Father in attempt to better sell the lie. His eyes widened even further now.

"What- what, how?" He sat slowly beside me on the bed, his eyes staring to space. Adline was watching us from the door.

"For who?"

I said the first name that came to my mind. "Abram Astor."

CHAPTER 2

ABRAM'S POV

My father took off his glasses as if they hindered his hearing.

"What?"

"I said no, Dad."

"No what?"

"No, I'm not going to marry Patricia."

He frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose. My mother rubbed his shoulder and shot daggers at me.

"But we've talked about this, honey." She finally spoke when my father maintained his silence.

"No we haven't. You talked and I listened, now I'm talking, and I'm saying I am not going to marry Patricia."

"But why? She's such a lovely girl, she-"

"This is how you spoilt him, talking to him as though he has a say. Look, boy, it's final. You're going to-"

I chuckled coolly. "I'm not going to."

"Abram-"

"Dad, I never go against your instructions, I've done everything you've asked me to regardless of how tough it was, but you see this one? Not gonna happen. That's all."

I rose from the sofa and left before anyone could say anything else. This wasn't going to be the last of it, I knew that much, but I needed to end this conversation on a note that seemed like victory.

Once I was out of the building and walking toward the garage, I let out a heavy breath. I think I handled that well, I said to myself, smiling wryly. They wanted me to marry Patricia. She was alright, I guess... most guys would be privileged to wife her, but not only was I not most guys, I did not feel a shred of attraction towards her. She, on the other hand, would walk through fire if I asked her to. This made her seem all the more unappealing to me. I once read somewhere that men are hunters and I couldn't agree more. I liked a challenge, and Patricia being ready to only live at my beck and call was such a huge turn off.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I fished it out to see what the notification was. A text from Mark.

"How'd it go?"

I smiled. Perfect timing. As I got into the driver's seat of my car, I dialled him up.

"Whew. Bro, it was not easy, I'll tell you that." I said once the call connected.

"You told them no? How'd they take it?"

"My father is still processing the fact that I told him no." I laughed while I drove down toward the front entrance.

Mark laughed. "Well, it was long overdue my guy. Today, you become a man."

"Look at this guy. You just turned twenty one. Can you drink alcohol yet?"

"Hey, I might be younger but, you're not a man until your dad sees you as a disappointment."

I laughed.

"Hey, party's tonight bro. Can you make it?"

I sighed. "I mean, I'll feel like a real dick if I tell you no one more time..."

"Yeah, that'll be a real dick move."

"And I'm feeling kind of good now."

"So that's a yes. Fuck yes."

I laughed. "I'm coming to your place now. Put something in the freezer."

"You got it, boss."

The party was grooving, at least I suppose it was... everybody looked like they were having fun. This sort of thing was never really my vibe; I was only here because Mark all but went on his knees to beg me, and then I was riding off the high I got from defying my father. Mark threw this party in honour of his twenty-first birthday; I had no reason to miss it actually.

"Lighten up, man." Mark screamed into my ear to get his words in over the booming music. "Get some drinks. Dance with some chicks. Have fun."

I rolled my eyes despite knowing fully well that he would not see the gesture. Two girls looking in our direction caught my eye. When I looked back at them, they averted their gazes quickly.

"You're scaring the ladies, man." Mark laughed. "Just get up and dance."

Just to get him to stop trying to persuade me, I nodded and raised my hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay. I'm going to get a drink."

"That's the spirit." He slapped my shoulder and danced away.

Slowly, I got up from where I was sitting and began navigating my way through the crammed bodies. Even then, I could not believe I was in a place like this, dancing with people that would never get to see me in real life otherwise. Thankfully, the lights were low, and one had to deliberately peer into my face to be able to recognise me.

"I'll take uh-" I started to talk to the bartendar when someone bumped into me, spilling some drops of his drink on me.

"Sorry, man." He apologized drunkenly.

I swallowed my heightened irritation as he walked away, drink in hand with the other arm around a girl's shoulder. What exactly did these lowlifes enjoy from such gatherings? I felt bad as soon as I had the thought. Was Mark a lowlife? It was funny how my closest friend happened to not be from the type of aristocratic background as me... well I guess that's why he was my in the first place, everybody is a snake where I'm from. Mark was a real one.

"Sorry about that, sir." The bartendar's voice took my gaze away from their backs. That was when I realized it was a woman, a very pretty woman dressed in a shirt that did little to shield her cleavage from prying eyes. I smiled when I realized Mark must have handpicked her himself to drive guys towards the bar to buy drinks in an attempt to hit on her, in return, she would not only get a fat check, but lots of tips from these horny losers.

"Here." She offered me a towel to clean myself.

I took it and asked her to make me something strong, something that could get me to dance a little.

"Feeling shy?" She smiled flirtatiously at me.

"No," I replied. "Just not in the mood."

"So why are you here?" She asked some seconds later and pushed a glass toward me.

"I'm wondering the same thing." I said before gulping down the potent liquid.

"Aha! I got you!" Mark's voice came from behind me. I turned to see him with two girls at his side. They flashed me big smiles. They looked very much alike.

"I wasn't running, Mark, I told you I was going to get a drink."

"Yes, you did, but I don't trust you to have fun, so I took the responsibility upon myself to bring the party to you."

I exhaled loudly, much to the amusement of the escorts.

"So, girls, this is my best man, Abram." Their faces had fresh smiles now there was an official introduction. "Abram, meet uh..."

"Shelly." The less attractive one took a step forward and came to my side, her hand going straight to my thigh.

"Shirley." The other one presented herself in like manner.

It was all too amusing for me. Apart from the fact that I had A LOT on my mind, Mark knew I would never get in bed with hookers, but he always tried to get me to bend my rules. He always said a man hadn't had the entire male experience until he had bedded a prostitute. Crazy philosophy but that was just Mark.

"Shelly and Shirley, huh?" They giggled. "Twins?" I asked them. More specifically, I asked Shirley.

"Yes."

I glanced at Mark who had a large, mischievious smile plastered on his face. Twins. Oh boy, I might just do it this one time.

"I'm gonna leave you guys to get acquianted now." He said and as he spoke, his gaze fell on something or someone. "Is that... Uh-oh."

I followed his eyes and saw her.

Anya King.

"Mark? Is that?" I was in denial.

"Yep."

"What the fuck is she doing here?"

"I dunno man. She came to party?"

Shelly and Shirley maintained professional composure while I had a mild crashout.

"Mark," I was on my feet now. "Why the fuck would you invite me for a party Anya is attending?"

"Relax, man. I didn't invite her; someone I invited must have done that. But it's all cool. You can just act like-"

I didn't wait around for him to finish before I started walking away, in search of an exit or a private room or something. Anya King would not see me in a place like this. Absolutely not. By the time I stood up, she had disappeared into the crowd and I did not realize I was dragging Shirley along as I waded through the crowd. When I looked back at her, I saw through the dim lighting, an expression that resembled fear on her face. I smiled.

"You don't usually do this without Shelly, huh?"

She shook her head.

"Well, go get her. I wonder why she stopped. Meet me over there." I pointed at a less crowded section of the club.

"Abram!" I heard the voice I was dreading call out to me over the music. I turned to face her. Anya King. My arch nemesis.

"Anya!" I forced the fakest smile unto my face but I doubt she even saw it with the lighting. "I never imagine I would see you in a place like this."

"Likewise." She was standing on her toes and shouting into my ear so I could hear her. "Can we talk?"

What is happening tonight? Seeing her here was strange enough, saluting her was a forced formality, but she wanted to have a conversation with me?

"Talk?"

She grabbed my arm and led me through the crowd to a more quiet place. I still didn't understand what was happening.

"Okay, so-"

"What the hell is going on?" I snatched my wrist out of her hold.

"We need to get married."

CHAPTER 3

ABRAM'S POV

"We need to get married."

There is no way those words just left her lips, right? It was bad enough that she was talking to me, but cracking a joke like this is just too far.

"What?"

She paused to force a lump down her throat and repeat herself.

"We HAVE to get married."

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Are you crazy?"

"Just, hear me out." She raised her hands in supplication and almost made contact with my chest, reminding us of how close we were standing to each other. On a normal day, an Astor and a King would not be seen within two miles of each other, when we did attend the same events, we sat as far from each other as the venue would allow, exchanging hostile glances while the other attendees caught in the crossfire of rude stares tried their best to act as if they did not know what was happening.

I shrugged and allowed her to speak.

"They want to marry me off to Baron. We are bethrothed."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering why any of that was my business.

"And?"

"And I'm not going to do it."

I chuckled. "You're talking like you don't know how things work. Aren't you twenty? Your parents were kind enough to give you two extra years to prepare yourself."

"Come on, Astor." She called me by my family name. "I know you're heartless but, Baron... really? You would watch your younger sister get married to Baron?"

"That's none of my business honestly, and that's my sister. Now imagine how much less I care about you. So I should throw my happiness away, be with you so you won't marry Baron?"

She threw her head back and exhaled loudly.

"It's mutualistic. You want to pretend as if you love Patricia?"

I licked my lips while thinking of what to say. She was keeping tabs on me? No, information like that was an open secret. Everybody knew everybody's bethrothed long before the actual marriage.

"That's not your business, and frankly, I think I have had enough of this conversation."

I wanted to leave but she held me by the shoulders, leaned into my ear to yell as this was the mode of communication in a party environment.

"I told my father you got me pregnant."

There was no trace of humor on her face when I frowned into it. Without a word, I grabbed her by the wrist, pushed past Shelly and Shirley who had found us and dragged her outside the party.

Now, with only the hum of bass from the speakers, we could talk better, and I could ask her what the hell she just said.

She looked flustered.

"You're kidding." I said after a prolonged period of silence. There was no way she would say such an outrageous thing to her father, because there was no way her father would believe such an outrageous claim.

"I wish I was."

I laughed, still refusing to believe her. "Okay. Why would you do that?"

"Because, I told you, I am not going to marry Baron."

"And so you lie that I, an Astor, got you, a King pregnant?"

"I was desperate, and it worked."

"Well, he's going to be so relieved when he finds out it's all a lie."

"Abram-"

"Please. This is the last I want to hear of this. See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow" was Bridgette's wedding, and I knew the Kings would be in attendance. The Kings are fellow aristocrats, and for as long as I can remember, we have not been on good terms. That's a very mild way to put it, really. The Astors and the Kings have a generational feud which, as very good children, we have inherited. Some of the deaths that have happened within our circle in the last decade, I can bet my inheritance that they relate directly to the feud. It all goes back to an argument between my greatgrandfather, Jacob Astor and Henry King, Anya's greatgrandfather. This argument that started from a business deal gone sour, has snowballed into a generational cold war with intense hatred and mistrust on both sides. My conversation with Anya might be the longest Astor-King interaction in over fifty years.

Bridgette and Hans' wedding was what ordinary people would call a grand occasion. She was getting married to Johannes Berger, or just Hans, a short, red faced, blond guy who wore his decorated military uniform to every occasion, despite him never seeing real combat. He liked to talk loudly and was the type of guy who would hit you in a fit of laughter. Bridgette on the other hand was tall, slender, and beautiful with a constant facial expression that made you wonder where her mind was. She spoke little and one could not recall a time where she had laughed in public. They were an awful mismatch, but they were matched regardless, and I had been cajoled by our families into playing master of ceremonies for Hans' wedding. Well, I didn't have much to do; just call up the priest and announce when the couple would have their first dance, and when we could all dance with them.

Standing and making small talk with some royal guests from Italy, I sensed a presence behind me, and my interactants' eyes acknowledged the presence of someone. To my utmost shock, I turned to see Adline King, Anya's stepmother waiting for me.

"Excuse me." I smiled at my Italian friends and they responded with respectful nods before walking away.

"Can I help you?"

"They're a beautiful couple, aren't they?"

Unsure of how to respond, or if I even wanted to, I furrowed my eyebrows and stared at her.

"How is Patricia? I expected to her with you."

I looked around. People had not yet noticed that I was talking to a King, and I was relieved, even though it won't be taken too seriously. Adline had married into the family and was not a descendant of Henry King, so she would be seen as a spokesperson for her husband before being seen as herself, which was why I was wary about being seen speaking to her.

"I-" This was still so strange, and I had not prepared myself to speak to two Kings in two days. "Why would you assume we would be together?"

"Is she not your dearly bethrothed?" She had a mocking look on her face. My irritation was creeping in.

"And where did you hear that?"

"Is she your bethrothed or not?"

I straightened up to reassert dominance by towering over her.

"I don't know what gives you the impression that you can ask me questions, Mrs King."

"Look, my step- my daughter, Anya, said something yesterday, and... I just need to confirm if-"

"What did she say?" I smiled, remembering yesterday's conversation. That wench really meant it.

"She said she was going to bring shame upon our family," She said dramatically. "She said she's-"

At that very moment, I felt someone push themselves against my side. It was Anya. She interlocked our fingers and beamed at her stepmother whose jaw fell. I heard some gasps around but I refused to make eye contact with the onlookers. Why didn't I just separate myself from her immediately? That would cause a bigger scene than what had already formed, and for some reason, the thought of embarassing Anya King then and there did not possess the gleeful delight it usually would.

"I suppose it's true, then." Adline finally said.

"Yes." I heard myself say. What?

I saw some movement in the corner of my eye. I turned and stared back into my parents shocked eyes.

What have I done?