Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He doesn’t cower, just because he’s an outsider and has no access to the kind of wealth my family has accumulated. His eyes shine with booze-fueled passion, and when he bangs his hand on the table, I grab the other and kiss it to show my appreciation.
I love the scowl it brings to Titus’s face.
Dad seems confused by Killian’s rudeness for longer than I expect, and I love every awkward second of it. “Sit down!” he says to Killian. “There’s no need to get so heated when the marriage is a done deal. You’ve got your cake, so eat it.”
I hope he’s not suggesting Killian is a gold digger, because I chose to shower him with gifts. And I practically abducted him in the first place. I’m not the one drinking, but I seem to be forgetting our marriage is a sham.
Killian eyes my father with a squint, then leans over the table, grabs a massive piece of cake with his hand and puts it on his plate. “I will,” he slurs and sits down.
The dramatics of it all. I love it.
He’s fucking perfect.
“That looks good,” I say. He immediately picks up on my words and tears a piece of the cake off before delivering it straight to my lips. I make sure to kiss his orange-scented fingertips.
“And this is what following your heart leads to,” Titus says, as if he weren’t jealous watching me now. Bree would never.
Samantha blinks at him innocently. “Eating cake?”
Mom was right. I do like her.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mom butts in. “I think following one’s heart can be right for some people.”
Of course, because why commit to something as noncontroversial as choosing one’s own path in life, when there’s money and privilege involved? My mother is the mistress of uttering a lot of words without saying anything.
“Maybe tell us how you two met?” Samantha asks.
Kill stops chewing, but his mouth is still full like he’s a little goth hamster. Maybe it’s for the better that I take the lead, because we haven’t come up with a cohesive version.
“He used to be a barista in my favorite cafe in New York,” I say stroking Kill’s back as he adds whisky to the cake in his mouth. “He always remembered my order, and we would flirt, but I didn’t want to be a creep and ask him out while he was at work, so it was a lot of back and forth.”
Killian speaks as soon as he swallows. “And then he brought that one artbook… What was it? But we chose a picture for one of my tattoos.” He pulls up his sleeve to show off a massive snake twisting around his arm. “And then went with me to get it done, held my hand and everything.”
He’s going off-script, which in his drunken state is a little disconcerting, but nothing too wild just yet, so I hope to keep a lid on it.
“He was intent on finishing it during one long session, so he was way too weak to return home by himself once that was done. I ended up carrying him, and then staying over, because I was worried he might be unwell.”
“Wow, aren’t you a fucking knight in shining armor,” my brother snarks, revealing his teeth as his upper lip twitches in an expression of impotent anger. “Doesn’t sound like you at all, Damen.”
Kill sits straighter, though he lolls a bit from side to side. I might need to cut him off the booze tomorrow, because it won’t help anymore tonight.
“Oh, but it’s exactly like him. Fuck. This one time a guy attacked me in a back alley, and he…” Kill must be assessing if he should mention murder at this family gathering, “fought off the guy so proficiently! And then the next day, he took me to a shooting range, and taught me how to use a gun.”
Titus shakes his head. “I hope you don’t think you’ll be taking part in the hunt.”
Killian groans. “Not this fucking hunt again…”
“Yes, the hunt!” Titus insists, because of course that’s what he cares about most. For years now, he’s been the one to finish with the most trophies, but even he knows his reign will be over the moment I join the competition. Titus looks at our father. “Does this marriage even count if it wasn’t approved by the family?”
“Fuck. You,” I say, pointing straight at him.
Father leans back in his armchair, his jaw muscles working overtime as he chews through all the shit I’ve dumped on his plate. “Only Van der Horns can participate.”
“Then everything is clear, because Killian is a Van der Horn now,” I say and grab Kill’s hand under the table.
He looks at me as if I’ve single-handedly saved Christmas.
“This lightweight?” Titus points to Kill. “You have to be joking—”
Bree butts in. “Leave it, honey. It doesn’t matter. You know you’ll get the most trophies anyway.”