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)
I tune back into the conversation to see Margot has traded her sadness for a smile.
“You know I’ll be good at it,” she says.
“Hmm, I don’t know.” Hattie’s face scrunches. “I don’t want anything too big. This isn’t a real wedding.”
“And I’ll work around that! Just let me start looking into venues, Hatgirl. Ignore the groom. He doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.”
“I mean, it’s not meant to be. Not for real,” Hattie reminds her.
“All weddings are romantic! Even the phony ones. Come on, at least let me pick the flowers. And your dress. I know just the style for you.”
My jaw clenches and I need more distance from them.
So much for Margot leaving the wedding alone, despite telling her point-blank she won’t be organizing shit.
Not for my wedding.
Fuck.
“Don’t look at me like that, dude,” Margot says, giving me a smug smile. “You signed up for this. Also, you get to deal with our parentals next week. They’ll be so excited to meet the bride.”
Bullshit.
My parents are secretly pissed I’ve inherited the company, as far as they know. They would’ve preferred it dismembered and sold off with the money distributed evenly, but they don’t want to piss me off by challenging Gramps’ explicit wishes.
Of course, they don’t know about this lunatic marriage clause, and I intend to keep it that way.
Unfortunately, that means we have to spend more time pretending to be a happy couple.
Hattie’s brows draw together. She hooks her bottom lip between her teeth.
It shouldn’t be such an effort to look away.
“When?” she asks. “When next week?”
“Wednesday. I figured we’d fly down to New York and make it quick. Get this crap out of the way.” When the concern on her face doesn’t ease, I fold my arms. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Margot fires a glare, but I ignore her. Hattie’s hold on her bottom lip deepens, turning it white.
“Wednesday,” she says.
“I’ll fly us out,” I say impatiently. “You won’t have to pay anything.”
“No, it’s not that.” She finally releases her lip and it’s fucking intoxicating, watching the blood rush back under her skin, redder than before. “It’s just… it’s kinda last minute to get time off. I don’t know if my boss will—well, I don’t want to disrupt the work schedule.”
“Seriously?” I snort loudly, wondering if I’m hearing this right.
We’re trying to organize an intro to convince my parents this is a legitimate marriage so I get my inheritance, and she’s prioritizing her job at a damn bookstore?
Hattie peers up at me with eyes like green moons. “Do I really have to be there?”
“Yes. If I’m getting tortured over this marriage, so are you,” I grind out.
“Ethan!” Margot smacks my arm. “Don’t be a horse cock.”
“Then don’t let your friend be ridiculous,” I mutter, dropping the subject.
Hattie glares back with an offended green hellfire I haven’t seen in years.
Like the twisted freak I am, I fight back a smile, realizing how much I’ve missed it.
The rest of the evening goes smoothly enough.
I drop Hattie off at her place at the end of the night. She hurries to her apartment building, keying in the code and letting the door click shut behind her like there’s a demon on her heels.
She may be more correct than she knows.
Her hair has started to curl naturally again, but it looks good on her.
Everything looks damnably good on her now.
I don’t know how it happened.
One minute, she’s a nerdy, average-looking kid, and the next she’s a grown smokeshow. Incredibly, she doesn’t even know it.
Would I have kissed her if she hadn’t taken off?
If Margot hadn’t barged in, would I have been that stupid?
Loaded question. The easy answer is no, because all this is a game.
Neither of us have any real interest in each other.
Yet somehow, the bitter truth is always more complicated.
The way I felt back there at the event, so on edge and wound up—I’m blaming Daley.
He did that, made me behave like a caveman, ready to go to war to claim what’s rightfully mine.
But Pages isn’t.
Never has been and I don’t want her to be.
I just can’t stand a public humiliation ritual like a man I despise flirting with my new fiancée.
Would I have fucking kissed her, though? Before Margot showed up?
Honest answer: maybe.
And that pisses me off more than anything because I have no right.
Hattie has no right making me want it so bad.
Not even for a split second.
I don’t realize I’m staring at the closed door of Hattie’s apartment building until Margot punches me in the arm.
“What was that for?” I glower at her.
“You know what. She’s my friend, Ethan, and that’s not a nice look.”
“What the fuck ever,” I growl.
Back then, it was easy to ignore her.
Little Hattie didn’t have the spark she does now. The occasional flash of confidence that gives her just enough sass to grab my attention by the throat.