Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
In lieu of a fiancé to take my anger out on, every single item in his bedroom and office was at my mercy.
I left no stone unturned in my bid to discover more about the man who had waltzed into my life in an expensive tux and turned it upside down just because it suited him.
I spent the entire night sifting through paperwork in his study, going item by item, and putting it back in non-chronological order, just to mess with his psyche.
By the time the sun crested the sky, I’d learned a few things about my future husband:
1) He was exceptionally, alarmingly, obnoxiously good at making money. His talent of turning a dime into a Benjamin was unmatched.
2) For the past few months, Senior had pressured him into marriage in exchange for the CEO position at Costa Industries, following Senior’s impending retirement.
3) The unfriendly, terse email exchanges between Romeo and his father also included harsh words about the Licht family. The Costas were intimidated, and I was their way to up the ante in the battle.
Satisfied that I’d put a dent in my research, I stopped by the kitchen to inhale Hettie’s blueberry and pecan waffles before retiring to my room for a nap.
The following evening, I sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Hettie, slurping Chai tea she’d brought from Darjeeling.
“Does he usually sleep out of the house?”
In front of us, a news segment danced across the screen. Something about a ring of brazen daylight robbers, who crashed restaurants and luxury stores, robbing the DMV’s wealthiest.
“Not usually.” Hettie sank into the cushions. “Sometimes, when he pulls really late nights, he stays in his Woodley Park penthouse. But he doesn’t like his schedule out of whack. He’s kind of peculiar about his meals staying the same.”
So…Romeo had an apartment in D.C. Another piece of information certain to come in handy.
“Why?” Hettie grinned, bumping our shoulders. “Missing your dreamboat?”
If by dreamboat you mean the Titanic, then…still no.
I hadn’t confided in Hettie about the nature of my relationship with Romeo. Though it didn’t take a degree in neuroscience to put two and two together.
I smiled at her question. “I can’t wait to see him again.”
This part wasn’t even a lie.
Next time I met Romeo, I’d remind him of my existence.
Loudly. Messily. And unapologetically.
There was only one thing worse than awakening from peaceful slumber—and that was being rudely awakened from peaceful slumber by a harem of middle-aged, white-privileged men with enough chins between them to sculpt another full-sized person.
“Is this her?” I didn’t recognize the voice.
“Regrettably.”
That terse reply could only belong to one person.
My eyes fluttered open.
Sure enough, two men I didn’t know hovered at the end of my bed beside another man I knew but wished I didn’t—my fiancé.
I sat up, leaned against my headboard, and rubbed my eyes, yawning.
If I’d hoped Romeo would be disheveled and unrested, having spent several nights away from his home, I was gravely mistaken.
He appeared as fresh as the gum he now chewed, with a crisp light-gray suit, powder-blue dress shirt, and Panerai timepiece.
He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost six in the evening.”
I drew a hand to my collarbone. “Goodness gracious, you can read the time. What other distinctive qualities must be hidden in you, my darling?”
The look he launched at me could freeze the arctic back to its pre-global warming state.
I glanced between his two companions.
I already knew who they were. Daddy had texted me about them. A message that remained unanswered, despite frequent pleas to return his calls.
I sank back into my mattress, shutting my eyes. “Well, this has been fun. Don’t forget to turn off the light on your way out.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Sleeping.”
“In the middle of our conversation?”
“Was that a conversation?” I shimmied the comforter up my shoulders. “As I’m sure you remember, you once accused me of having no dreams. Can’t dream without sleeping.” I yawned, shooing them with a wave. “Well, off to chase my dreams. Tootles.”
Romeo jerked the duvet off me. “This is Jasper Hayward, my lawyer. And this is Travis Hogan, your lawyer. We’re signing a prenuptial agreement this evening.”
He sauntered to the windows, drawing the curtains open in a sharp movement. Even the sunset singed my hooded eyes.
“You hired a lawyer for me.” I slipped out of bed in my six-day-old nightgown, strutting to him. “Why, that’s so sweet of you. I’m sure he’ll have my best interests in mind.”
Romeo sneered down at me. “Your father approved the contents of the agreement this morning. Rest assured, it is on par with standard prenuptial agreements.”
His words were so reserved and careful, I wanted to shake him. Grab him by the suit and rattle him until his inhibitions rolled down the floor like pennies.
“Relax, darling. I trust you.” I advanced to the beverage cart, pouring myself a few fingers of whisky from the decanter, knowing he wouldn’t approve. “So far, you haven’t done me wrong.”