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)
“So. Diamonds.”
Ann-Marie smirks, a nasty little gleam in her cat-shaped eyes, and elegantly sweeps a hand out. “Right this way, Boston.”
The moment my name leaves her lips, Clair tenses in my peripheral, but I don’t look her way. I follow Ann-Marie because at this point, I’d let her lead me off a cliff if it meant avoiding the mortification threatening to swallow me whole.
What’s sad is it’s not for me. It’s for him, as I know what he’s sure to figure out.
This is only the first of many introductions that will go this exact same way.
Soon, he will realize “buying” me was no win on the auction block.
He didn’t acquire the one-of-a-kind crowned jewel.
He got the knockoff.
I wonder how many more meetings like this before he checks the return policy on an underground marriage contract?
Spoiler alert: death is the only escape.
Chapter
Six
Boston
I’d rather stare at a pile of horseshit for hours than glance in Enzo’s direction. Still, it’s taking some serious willpower to avoid it, considering he has spent the last fifty-three minutes waiting for me to do exactly that.
Not thirty seconds after I walked off with the girl who might be my new sister-wife, Clair clinked off in her heels, tears streaming down her pretty face. The fairytale-esque setup I walked out to was packed and carried away before I had a chance to pretend to inspect all the diamonds laid out before me.
I’m getting sick of hearing her voice now, though, and even more tired of the damn history lesson about each one I pause too long on. I don’t care where the diamond was born or the million reasons why one is rarer than another and so on, so I finally point at one.
“Ah,” she muses. “The Quad Queen. Shocker.”
I ignore her dig, being it’s well deserved considering. “What now?”
“Now we show the groom. Enzo!” She spins, calling Enzo from where he leans against the stone railing.
He kicks off immediately, heading this way, and when she eagerly intercepts his advance, I could kiss the bitch for her obvious enjoyment of having his attention. I take advantage of the moment, rushing away.
I hurry into the house, not caring what he thinks about my wedding ring of choice. Or is he calling it an engagement ring?
I should probably ask at some point.
Either way, I chose the largest diamond on the gaudiest setting for a band she had to offer—and there were plenty to pick from. The entire display just went to show my fiancé—no, my husband, if he’s telling the truth—knows nothing about me. He sees a pretty face and privileged past and assumes I’m like every other daughter sold off to the man he or her daddy can benefit from most.
Except, according to him, this marriage is of no benefit to anyone, not anymore.
Bastian Bishop, my sister’s man, is the head of my family.
I would say it’s ironic, but it isn’t.
I go after the man closest to my father in power, and then my sister’s new toy rises above him in name.
Fucking figures.
Even as I think the words, they feel shitty.
It’s not that I went out with the goal of competing with Rocklin. I love her, but I wanted something of my own. I have no place in the Revenaw world, but being born into it means I can’t leave it either, so a life onstage was out. I’m not a Greyson girl, an heiress chosen to represent the union of the underground world. I’m just a girl from Greyson Elite, a daughter like any other.
Being with Enzo was supposed to separate me from the northern district and pull me from the prison of my father’s reigning territory, thrusting me into something entirely new. Here, with a man—the only man—who has ever earned the right to employ those across all four districts without pledging loyalty to one over the others, while taking up residence in what’s been left unclaimed without permission—the abandoned sections of the east. I was supposed to thrive in a life of my own with a man of power at my side.
And all that makes this sound so much worse. Fantastic.
“Jesus, Boston, what did you do?” I cover my face with my hands, sighing into them.
Why the hell I thought tying myself to someone like Enzo Fikile was a good idea, I don’t know, but I’m beginning to think my sister was right to want to murder me for it.
Slipping into my room, I lean my head against the door and pull in a long, full breath. My muscles tense, and I take another, slowly turning, my eyes instantly locking on what wasn’t there this morning.
My pulse jumps in my chest as I move toward the bay window and the small cabinet now sitting below it. A shiny silver espresso machine rests on top, an array of small bottles of caramel beside it, and when I open the little cabinet door, I find it’s no cabinet at all, but a mini fridge with two canisters of whipped cream.