Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
I button up the jacket and slide the white rose into the pocket. Pulling back my sleeve, I check the hour.
It’s time.
After grabbing the box with the rings, I make my way to Evie’s room. I take a moment to dial Andrew, checking that the officiant has arrived. My cousin had the same reaction as my brother when I told him about my plan—my real plan—but like Mateo, he saw that this was the only way.
This time, I do knock.
The stylist opens the door and says with a smile, “She’s ready for you, sir.”
I take a wad of cash from my wallet and hand it to her. It’s vulgar to do the transaction in the hallway, right in front of my bride’s face, but I never leave a paper trail that can lead back to me.
“You know your way out,” I say. “A guard will escort you.”
She slips the money into her pocket, picks up her make-up case, and inclines her head as she leaves.
Only then, when we’re alone, do I look at Evie.
She stands next to the bed in a cloud of white. It’s barely eleven. The morning winter sun makes a halo behind her head. Considering the weather, I chose a dress with long sleeves. The bodice is sewed from handmade lace. The back is low and the skirt wide. I made sure that the waist is loose enough not to irritate her stitches. Seeing that she can’t wear heels, I got ballerina flats. She’s slender. Vulnerable. Too thin. A breeze will blow her over. She needs to pick up weight. I’ll work on that. She can’t grow a baby in her belly if she’s underweight.
Crossing the floor, I take the posy of sweet peas from the bed. The stems are covered in silk and tied with a ribbon. I had the flowers flown in. It took a lot of effort to find them. The florist managed to source some from Britain where it’s summer.
I lift the bouquet to my nose and inhale the fragrance. They smell sweet, like innocence and carefree Aprils. I can see why Evie likes them.
I feel her eyes on me, but her expression is hidden from me behind the veil. I can just make out the elegant bun of her hair in her nape. Just as well. I’m not sure I’ll like what I see.
Pressing the flowers into her hand, I say, “You’ll need these,” meaning those words on more than one level.
She’ll need the prop for our wedding photos, but if she’s to make it in her new life, she’ll need every bit of beauty she can get.
CHAPTER 15
Christina
I stare at the flowers in my hand. “You’re not serious about this, Roman. You can’t be.”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life,” he says in an earnest tone.
My pulse goes into overdrive. “What can you possibly hope to achieve with this?”
He studies me. “You don’t know? Your father never told you?”
Something rides on the air, something that contracts my stomach and feels too much like that time when everyone was in on the joke except for me. “Told me what?”
Stepping closer, he muses, “He really did leave you in the dark, didn’t he?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I made my conditions clear to your father when I offered him a contract for your hand in marriage.”
I gape at him. “What?”
“I told him I wanted my family’s diamond back. He owed me that and more.” A beat passes. “He took everything from me. In turn, I promised to take everything from him. His most valuable possessions. His business. The diamond. You.” He places emphasis on every word. “I staked a claim on you first, Evie. He knew I was coming for you. That’s why he wanted to marry you to Stone.”
I blink in shock, trying to process what he’s saying. Bell knew all along?
“You were always supposed to marry me, sweetheart,” he says. “It has always been fate.”
I’m battling to breathe. The beat of my heart becomes sluggish. My palms turn sweaty as a horrible suspicion grows with nausea in the pit of my stomach.
“When?” I say, my voice barely audible. “When did you first approach him?”
“As soon as I came into my own power.”
“When?” I repeat, feeling for something next to me to support my weight. My hand falls on the back of a chair.
“Ten years ago, when I turned twenty-three.”
Ten years ago. I was fifteen.
The blood drains from my head and drops to my feet. The world spins around me. The only thing keeping me up is my grip on the chair. The stylist fixed my nails. She glued new ones on and painted them. One breaks as I dig my fingers into the wood of the backrest for purchase.
“Evie? Do you need to sit down?”
Bell knew. He knew Roman Malan was coming for his daughter. That’s why he went knocking on doors in all the poorest neighborhoods of Johannesburg, looking for someone he could buy. He set me up. For ten long years, he trained me for this moment. He always planned on betraying me.