Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Does he trust anyone?”
She smiles at that. “Not if they don’t share his last name, no. You should have seen the shit he put Raven through in the beginning. Badass bully basketball player with a hard-on for the girl he ‘hated.’ The group home we were living in then went feral when those two started hooking up.”
I smile, but quickly refocus when the car begins to slow. “I think we’re pulling into the winery.”
“Perfect.” She nods, digging a phone from her bra and sending a quick message. She smiles, stuffing it away, and meets my gaze. “Remember, you have seven minutes to kill.”
“Easy.”
“How pissed off is your husband going to be?”
A laugh flies from me then, and I shake my head.
“Yeah.” She smiles. “That’s what I figured.” She takes a deep breath, her face set in determination. “Okay. Ready?”
I nod, unfold, and run my fingers along the intricate fabric, before slowly lifting and tying the bandana over the lower half of my face in perfect timing with her.
We face forward, seeing ourselves in the mirrored privacy screen, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Freaky,” she mutters, tracing the lines of the identical veil pinned along the crown of her head. Inspired by Little Red Riding Hood’s coat, our matching blonde hair a perfect picture of the other, down to the curls. “He’ll never see us coming.”
The car rolls to a stop, and I take a deep breath, throwing the door open before Nicholas has fully climbed from his seat. He meets my eyes over the hood, his widening at the sight of the bandana slung over my nose, nothing but a hint of my blonde hair and green eyes visible. Well, from the neck up anyway.
He begins to round on me, so I wait, allowing him to step near the door, giving Victoria the line of sight she needs for her own, final confirmation.
“Boston, don’t freak out, okay?” he begins. “Enzo isn’t inside.”
I tip my head, offering a little frown. “What? Why? Are we early?”
He raises his hands as if to calm me, but then tenses, a smile crossing his face. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re early. Come on.”
He starts walking, eyes flicking back to make sure I’m not hesitating. I stay at his pace, though a single step back and to the left.
At the door, he pulls it open for me, and with a straight spine, I step through, sensing him taking up at my back.
The light from outside casts a shadow across the room, revealing the silhouette of two men standing across from us. As it slams closed, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust, and when they do, I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
Bingo.
“Philip?” I keep my tone soft and airy. Weak and confused.
Gag me.
His eyes trail over me in my wedding dress, and a light laugh leaves him as he holds his hands out, stepping closer. “I have a feeling this conversation is about to go a lot smoother than anticipated.” He smiles. “Looks like you’re headed to a funeral, beautiful. Are you dreading this…contract marriage that much?”
I get what he’s saying. I do look like a mourning widow.
My wedding dress is as black as a raven’s feathers, as is the hooded, lacey black veil. Mix that with the black bandana, and well. Yes. It’s an over-the-top, sexy funeral outfit, but a funeral outfit nonetheless, if we’re going based off color alone. Which apparently, we are.
I swallow, eyeing him with a forced frown, using a low, lame tone of voice. “How did you find out about the contract?”
He smiles wide. “I hired a PI.” He laughs, glancing behind me, and rage boils in my gut at the confirmation of what I had already figured out as I cut what I hope is not a glare in Nicholas’s direction. “Helped that he was the one who set this whole charade up.”
I stay quiet, letting him do the talking.
Philip moves closer, and my eyes fall to the fresh scar on his neck from where Enzo used his flesh as a pinboard. He keeps coming until he’s two feet from me, then folds his arms in front of him with a million-dollar smile.
“I can make the contract disappear. No fault, no backlash. A clean sweep that makes all of this go away.” He pauses, watching me closely. “I know you were made aware of what I want. What I’ve been asking for since we were fifteen, in fact. I still want that, Boston. I don’t need a contract or a verbal agreement for anything. All I need is you. As my wife.” He reaches out then, a small frown forming when he’s forced to run his knuckles over the bandana rather than the skin on my cheek. “I will give you everything you could ever want. All you have to do is say yes, and it’s done.” A man who looks suspiciously like a wedding officiate steps forward with a nod, and I look from him to Philip.