Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“Besides, even if I did, I doubt she’d tell me the truth.”
The sadness in her voice hits harder than I want it to.
I drag a hand across my jaw. “Look, you said what you needed to in that speech. All you can do now is be there for her if shit goes sideways. Right?”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “You’re right.”
Despite that agreement, I can feel her worry lingering, so I steer us somewhere lighter. “Want me to kidnap Finchy Boy? Hide the body, make it look like he ditched.”
Her smile pushes through the shadows, giving me the hit I was aiming for. “Tempting, but better not. I didn’t bring bail money.”
I shrug. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Her amusement suddenly shifts, giving way to something softer. “Thanks for being here this weekend,” she whispers, the words almost shy. “I know it was a lot to ask, but I really do appreciate it.”
And there she is, the woman beneath all the sass. The one who undoes me every damn time.
“You’re welcome.” I clear my throat, chasing away the heaviness, a smirk quickly following. “After all, it’ll be my turn soon, and I’m looking forward to collecting that favor.”
“God, don’t remind me.” She groans, flopping onto her back. “You going to tell me what it is yet?”
“Nope.” I stretch an arm behind my head, satisfaction curling through me. “But don’t worry, it’s going to be fun.”
She scoffs, all sass back. “I just bet it will.”
I smirk, that satisfaction stretching into a moment of silence—until she breaks it one last time.
“Good night, Linc.”
The two words are nothing but a whisper, but they work their way under my skin and bury themselves there.
“Night, Harlow.”
Her breathing quickly evens out, steady and calm, like she hasn’t got a care in the world. Meanwhile, I lie awake, trying not to think about how easy this feels, and how dangerous it is to want more of it.
The grounds buzz with activity as I head toward the bridal suite, clutching a tiny safety pin. An urgent, last-minute request from Hattie.
Why her maid of honor couldn’t handle it, I didn’t ask. After last night, nothing surprises me. Besides, I didn’t mind the errand. It got me out of the room and away from the six-foot-something wall of temptation currently haunting my every waking thought.
Let’s just say morning Linc is even more dangerous than daytime Linc. Sleep-tousled hair, bare skin, that sexy rasp in his voice…add in how kind he was last night and the way he comforted me…
Yeah, not good. Not good at all.
Twenty-four more hours, Harlow. That’s it. Just twenty-four hours.
I’m halfway through the private gardens when a sound stops me cold. I strain to listen and hear it again. Faint, and muffled, coming from the janitorial shed against the side of the building.
Concerned, I head toward it. The closer I get, the clearer it becomes.
Not pain. It’s breathy…intimate.
Heat crawls up my neck, sinking into my cheeks.
Oh, for the love of Pete. Some people have no shame.
Disgusted, I turn to leave when a low male voice cuts through the moans, murmuring filth in a tone that sounds all too familiar.
I freeze, a sick feeling rolling through my stomach.
Ditching my heels, I inch closer, feet whispering over the gravel, breath locked somewhere in my chest.
Please don’t let it be him.
That silent prayer shatters the moment I peek around the corner.
Finch. Hands on the maid of honor’s hips, her dress shoved up, palms braced against the shed as he hammers into her from behind.
“Fuck me, Finch…yes, harder—fuck—”
That son of a bitch.
My fingers clamp around the safety pin, the metal biting deep into my palm as white-hot fury explodes in my chest.
Instinct tells me to storm over there and rip them both to shreds, but my body won’t budge. I’m rooted to my spot, stomach churning, and heart pounding as I witness the ultimate betrayal.
Hattie.
Spinning on my heel, I bolt for the bridal suite, heels forgotten, thoughts racing as fast as my steps.
I knew he was a bastard. But this? On her wedding day? With the maid of honor?
My jaw clenches, rage burning so hot it could ignite the damn gardens.
You’re finished, Finchy Boy.
Every step is fueled by sheer determination, but as the door to my sister’s suite comes into view, my pace slows, a moment of doubt creeping in.
I’m stuck somewhere between the need to protect her, and the fear of breaking her. Because this will break her. She’s softhearted, way more than I am.
Still, she has to know.
With that thought in mind, I lift my hand and knock—once, twice.
Footsteps shuffle behind the door before it swings open, revealing the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.
Hattie sparkles in layers of tulle and lace, her hair swept into an intricate updo that frames her glowing face. My mom stands just behind her, arranging the veil with careful precision.