Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“Keep smiling. Focus on that. Look pretty, but that won’t take much effort now,” Margot whispers as we slide inside the car.
“Easy for you to say!” I whisper back.
She smiles.
“Don’t worry, Hatgirl. I’ll handle the condolences. I’ll also bail you out if anyone gets too nosy. Whatever you do, don’t let my idiot brother ruin a good time.”
There’s a ring on my finger and it’s weirding me out.
It isn’t a cookie-cutter masterpiece or dripping in diamonds, which shocks me to my core. The piece he picked out, it’s actually tasteful.
All brilliant etched gold with a halo of smaller diamonds around a beautiful pine-green tourmaline rock, the state gemstone. Elegant, intricate, and yes, expensive, but not some outrageous antique thing which belonged to a Tsarsina once. Or peppered with so many diamonds it weighs down my hand.
Of course, he didn’t hand it over in person.
But the note it arrived with—dear God.
Green like your eyes. Let me know at once if it isn’t suitable.
I’m still flipping spinning.
Also, I think I’ve stepped into a billionaire romance novel.
Kennebunkport is a small, quaint town with pretty wooden buildings and rustic vibes. The mansion that’s hosting the event bustles with the rich and famous.
Very rich, very famous people. Modern day Gatsby stuff.
There’s art plastered on the walls of the ballroom in the large mansion hosting this gathering, and I already know it’s the type that costs millions by real talents. I like the old-school paintings more than the modern splatter art, but it all screams heady and expensive.
I wonder if Ethan ever developed a taste for interpreting this stuff.
Oh, yes. Ethan.
He looks incredible.
No surprise.
Navy suit that looks like it grew onto his body organically—seriously, why is he so tall and why are his shoulders so wide?—and dark coppery hair slicked back.
Refined. Clever. Intimidating.
Someone who fits in with a crowd intimately connected to major Atlantic real estate.
Predictably, he’s barely said a single word to me beyond the brief ‘hello’ when he first saw me.
After sizing up my outfit and giving a little nod of approval to say I passed muster, he just put his hand on my arm and that was that.
But the man did stare.
A lingering, cutting glance that made me feel all kinds of confused.
His eyes didn’t match his neutral, disinterested tone, though, so maybe it’s just my imagination.
We float around the massive ballroom, moving between people like frenzied hummingbirds.
“This is Hattie Sage, my lovely fiancée,” Ethan says for the third time without a glance.
I pin on a smile at the warm murmurs of approval and the odd smile sent my way. Their eyes focus, digging in, scanning for flaws.
I know what they’re thinking—who the hell is this girl to bag the eligible Blackthorn bachelor?
All my fancy words meant to impress dry up in my mouth.
Fiancée is such a big word. Especially when you’re suffering major imposter syndrome.
Who am I to be here, hanging on Ethan Blackthorn’s arm?
I feel like a fraud.
Honestly, it’s a relief he isn’t paying more attention. If he did, I’d probably wilt like the delicate, out of place flower I am.
I never had an acting bone in my body, and pretending to like a man I can’t stand is a bridge too far, leading straight to hell.
Just another smile, though.
Another nod.
One more tiny lie.
A few more words where I try to sound like I know the first thing about high society.
Thank God for those summers with Margot and her grandfather, or I’d be so screwed.
“I hate to hear about his passing,” a man with silver hair says.
Leonidas.
Everyone keeps bringing him up, and every mention of his name feels loaded. Even beyond the grave, he’s the center of attention.
After all, he’s the whole reason I’m here.
Why did he make Ethan do this again?
And why me?
I don’t belong. All the ladies around me are skinny and regal and perfectly polished. They probably weren’t born with body hair. And all the men look like they’re accustomed to dropping a cool two million on a beach house they use three times a year.
Breathe. Smile. Nod. Mumble.
I feel like a toy.
Ethan guides me to another group, and we repeat the same awkward song and dance. I think I’m the only one in the room getting eaten up by nerves.
He’s just as polished as everyone else, at ease in a way I can’t be.
For the first time in ages, I wonder what he’s really been up to all these years.
It was kinda abrupt, the way he enlisted and left Portland, apparently without ever looking back.
He was still just a kid.
Margot was certain he’d go right into the family business, if he didn’t breeze through college first.
Leonidas was sure, too, she’d thought.
But he didn’t.
For some reason, the Blackthorn empire only found him years later, seemingly reluctantly.
I risk glancing up at his face, holding in a gasp.
Hard jaw, lethal cheeks, the sculpted graze of stubble that makes him look older and harder than he used to be.