Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
"We're here."
Relief washed over Emmy when she glanced out of her window and saw Hotel Aerenthal coming into sight.
Her boss stepped out first, and she had a moment's hesitation before reluctantly taking the hand he offered.
A jolt of electricity pulsed through every cell of her body as soon as his fingers clasped hers, and her breathing quickened even as she barely managed to bite back a gasp.
The electrifying impact of his touch stunned and bewildered her, and Emmy finally had an inkling of why all the other girls were so enamored of him.
Her gaze lifted to his, and seeing the gleam of amusement in his blue-gray eyes had her squirming and feeling self-conscious for some reason.
What's happening to me?
She tried to tug her hand out of his hold, but this only made his fingers tighten around hers.
"Sir? I'm here to meet—-" Emmy almost said 'my husband' but held the words back in time. "—-someone special," she ended lamely instead.
"How special?"
"V-Very special?" It finally dawned on her that they were still standing by the hotel entrance, and all the other guests were staring their way. She tried freeing herself one more time, but her efforts only had him pulling her closer. Everyone around them recognized him. Didn't he care what they think?
"Sir, could you please just let go? Everyone's looking at us—-"
But her boss cut her off as if her words were immaterial. "In what way is he special?"
Why, oh why was he asking so many weirdly inappropriate questions like this?
"Is he someone you like?"
"Mr. Asherfield!"
"I just want to understand who he is to you—-"
"He's...he's..." Emmy desperately groped for answers to questions she had never imagined someone would ask her this early on. "He's so special that, um..." I knew it, I knew it. I should've read more romance novels in my spare time.
"If you can't even define what makes him special, then maybe he doesn't matter to you as much as you say—-"
"That's not true!" Emmy was aghast at what her boss was implying, and her chest hurt at the mere thought of her husband hearing such words being said about him. "He is special, okay! He's the most special man in my life, to the point that, um...he knows my middle name!"
"It's Jane, isn't it?"
"And my favorite color—-"
"Carnation pink and lavender," her boss supplied.
Emmy could only look at him in horror. Noooo. How in the world did Rowland Asherfield know these things?
"If that's all that makes him special—-"
"It's not," Emmy denied vehemently. "There's so much more—-"
"Such as?"
"Such as..." Oh gosh, Emmy, make something up! "Such as he's the only one who can hold my hand—-"
"Then why ask me to let you go?"
Chapter Three
ROWLAND COULD NOT RECALL the last time he had been this...entertained. Instead of celebrating the fact that she was now married to a billionaire like most women would, Emerald had assumed he was pranking her, called Charlotte in a panic when he assured her she wasn't, and after being provided with all the legal evidence that he was indeed her bona fide husband, was now staring at him like one of them had lost their mind.
"Please be honest with me, Mr. Asherfield."
"Don't you think it's time you called me Rowland?"
Emerald looked at him in horror, and his lips pressed together in a straight line.
"What would you like to call me then? Do you prefer something more intimate—-"
Emerald stared at him like horns had just sprouted from his head. Teasing her was surprisingly fun, and Rowland had to rub his jaw as if feeling pensive when it was only a way to hide his smirk.
"This may be nothing but a joke to you—-"
"It's not."
"Then...did you have too much to drink?"
Rowland couldn't recall seeing anyone so excited at the thought of him being intoxicated.
"That's it, right? That's the only reason you could have signed a contract—-"
"I think you should reread our contract," he advised gently. "There's a line that says both of us have been certified to be of sound mind and health before signing it."
Her shoulders drooped at his words, and his jaw clenched at the effort it took to keep his face expressionless.
"You seem to find me lacking as a husband."
"Wha—-I—-no, of c-course not!"
Had no one told her she sucked at lying?
"It's just...we both know you could have anyone, Mr. Asherfield—-"
"Is that how you see me? Someone who would just want anyone to be his wife?" Rowland made a show of clenching his fists as he spoke, and just as predicted, this false display of emotion had turned the tables around, and his mail-order bride was now looking at him with a mixture of guilt and dismay.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to imply that at all—-"
"There's no need to lie—-"
"I'm not, I swear! All I meant was that you're such a...a catch! Any woman would be lucky to have you—-"