Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
She circled around my chair before sitting on the armrest. She then leaned to the side and placed her hand on my inner thigh. The touch that used to light my blood on fire left me cold.
“I thought we had something,” she whispered, clearly not ready to give in.
I chuckled and removed her hand but kept my seat.
“We did…once…but it is nothing compared to what I feel for Madison,” I said, twisting the knife.
It wasn’t like me to betray even the slightest emotion to an adversary, but this was part of the game—the new one I’d just begun with my wayward brother.
I needed him to think Madison mattered to me for it to work. I needed him to learn about my plans to marry her and to think it was a love match. That it was the truth, was immaterial.
It would force his hand. He would know as well as I that he may be able to fool the rest of the world into thinking he was me…but he wouldn’t fool Madison. Not my sweet, intelligent, beautiful girl. She would know.
I may be an unrepentant bastard when it came to her, but she would know the man who’d hit her. She’d know the difference between our touch. The difference between us.
Skylar’s voice dropped. “What about me? I was meant to be Mrs. Worthington, not her.”
What I had felt once for Skylar had nothing to do with who she was and everything to do with what was expected of me. Especially by my father.
Mockingly, I replied, “It’s a shame my brother’s dead. You could have married him. That would have made you a Mrs. Worthington, one whose husband had absolutely no control, or money, or even the estate, but hey, you would’ve had the name.”
She moved and stood in front of my chair, arms crossed over her chest, pressing her tits up. “That’s not funny, Pierce.”
I couldn’t help comparing her, the woman who embodied everything society insisted beauty should be, with the breathtaking vixen I had taken and was now holding against her will. She lay fast asleep, tangled in the sheets, exhausted after I’d spent the night fucking her.
It should have been my bed she slept in. Instead, she was hidden away in a bedroom in a half-closed wing of the estate—the worst-kept secret in the house.
Skylar could walk a runway. She could charm dignitaries and captivate a room without trying. But she couldn’t hold a candle to Madison.
I met her gaze. “I wasn’t laughing.”
Taking a deep breath, she smiled, the expression not reaching her eyes.
Displaying her curves as she bent down, she ran her palms over the top of my thighs, before reaching for my glass.
She then turned toward the sideboard. The glass vial no longer sticking out of her bag. “Let me refresh your drink for you.”
I ran my palm over my pant leg, brushing away the lingering feel of her touch as I said casually, “You won’t change my mind, Skylar.”
She turned back toward me, holding two glasses. “Well then, let’s toast again. This time to parting as old friends.”
It amused me that she genuinely thought I hadn’t noticed her slipping poison into my drink.
CHAPTER 47
SKYLAR
My gaze fixed on the crystal glass in his hand. The amber liquid caught the firelight. It looked like any other brandy.
Was I seriously going to go through with this? I'd hoped that Pierce would give me another option. That he would finally give me what I needed.
If he had, I would've confessed everything to him.
I would have given him everything. Including his brother.
But he chose her over me.
My grip tightened around my own glass. The crystal bit into my palm.
I didn't know what was in the vial Jameson gave to me. I hadn't asked.
Part of me hoped it would be over quickly. Pierce may have been a bastard, but he didn't deserve a gruesome death.
Would the coroner even test for poison? I had no idea.
Pierce, with his usual air of confidence, raised the glass to his lips.
I cleared my throat.
He paused and cut his eyes to mine.
I cleared my throat again. “Pierce, I—”
He raised one inquisitive eyebrow and lowered the glass an inch.
Just an inch.
“Do you remember the very first time we sat here, together?”
A smirk played at the corner of his lips. “Of course, Skylar. It’s hard to forget such moments.” He swirled the brandy once, studying me over the rim. “Why bring it up now?”
He knew something was wrong. He had to.
The old warmth in his voice turned my stomach. I’d forgotten he could still sound like that. Like the man I’d planned to marry.
I kept my eyes on his face and not the glass.
He raised it again.
“Do you ever think about how different things could have been?” The words tumbled out, desperate. Anything to keep him talking.
Pierce studied me. The silence stretched. “You’re being nostalgic tonight.” He tilted his head. “That’s not like you, Skylar.”