Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Shouldn’t you be angry at me for what I did? Or almost did?”
“I asked you to do that,” she says with a sigh, some of the tension bleeding out of her rigid posture. “You were the one who talked me down. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not fair of me to imply that you did. I was shocked when I found out you were getting married. I saw the story the morning after, and I couldn’t believe it. It’s a touchy subject with me right now. Cheating, I mean.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I should have paid someone to look you up so I could explain myself.”
She snorts. “I would have thought you were a dirty stalker then.” She folds her elegant hands with those lovely, talented fingers across her desk. “By all accounts, this marriage is a business transaction where the bride’s father gets the perks of washing his hands off his poor daughter, who wouldn’t conform to his medieval notions of what a woman should be. You were a fool to agree, but in a way, you’re also her hero. You’re her white knight because now she gets to live her life the way she wants, with the love of her heart. All it’ll cost her is her name on a piece of paper. She has her reasons, but what are yours? And don’t say greed or a whole empire at your fingertips because you don’t strike me as the kind of person who doesn’t know when enough is enough.”
This is…interesting. Also, what the actual fuck?
“I don’t think you’re qualified to know what kind of person I am.” I try to say that lightly and not like a total douchebag. “I’m probably just another greedy, selfish bastard who has no clue when enough is enough because nothing will ever be enough to fill all the black holes inside my black heart.”
“Black holes, maybe.” She starts drumming her nails on her desk. It should be annoying, but I’m momentarily captivated by the cadence of her fingers. All I can see is her sitting at that piano and caressing those keys into the most beautiful form of magic I’ve ever witnessed. “But greedy? I don’t think so. When did you give up on living and loving your life? When did you decide to throw it all in and live for the legacy, titles, and status? You’re hiding behind them. That’s not who you are.”
This would be the right time to say something insightful and relevant, but for the life of me, I’m too flabbergasted to come up with anything. All I can do is shift awkwardly in this chair. Belatedly, I realize I’m sweating and stuck to the faux leather, such that when I move, the chair makes a fart sound.
I stare Bellatrix down like it didn’t just happen.
Bellatrix what? I glance around her desk and office for anything with her full name, but there’s nothing.
“When did you start going through the motions instead of actually living?” she continues.
“I…that isn’t what is happening here. The man you saw in the lounge? He wasn’t real. This is the real me. I have my money, my properties, my hotels, my cars, my things. I’m very much materially motivated. Those things matter. Relationships? People? That’s messy. I like things neat and orderly. I’ve gone to great lengths to cut out anything and everything that doesn’t fit neatly.”
She yawns like I’m boring her. “If you’re done bullshitting now, let me tell you something. There are good people in the world. People who could be right for you. People who care. People who won’t take more than they give. People who aren’t in it just for the money. People who are loyal and want to know you for you. Why throw away all the years ahead of you where you could find that and have it? Just because things went wrong in the past doesn’t mean they will in the future.”
“How do you have any idea things went wrong in the past?”
She lifts a shoulder in a shrug, but there’s a momentary flash of panic on her face. “First of all, the internet. Second, I plan a lot of weddings. I know love, and I know people. I’m not wrong about this.”
I know what this is. She’s so shocked about everything that happened that she has to rationalize it in her mind. She’s so surprised that the surprise works against the surprise, showing an equal and opposite reaction of somehow spinning this into a story where I’m not the bad guy, and I should have hope.
And there might be a good chance that what I just thought out is pretty much pudding-clad proof that I know nothing about science.
“Villains always cloak their evil in a beautiful exterior. It’s their superpower. But you’re not cloaking anything except for what you truly want, and it’s not villainous at all. It’s not wrong to believe in love, even after the pain has proved you shouldn’t.” She gives me such a bold look that a shiver traces down my spine.