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)
She points at me and clambers to her feet. “Stay right there or I’ll yell at you. Be right back.”
While she’s knocking around in the kitchen, I open the book on my lap and look at the first few lines.
Elizabeth Bennett wouldn’t have been forced into a marriage she didn’t want. There was Mr. Collins, after all, and her mom was pretty certain Elizabeth needed to marry him. But no.
Tragically, I’m no Elizabeth Bennett.
What the actual hell am I gonna do?
Refuse. That would be the logical thing.
You don’t just marry strangers over wonky legal contracts and money anymore. At least, not overtly.
We’re not living in a novel and I shouldn’t be forced down the aisle with a man I don’t love.
On the other hand, if I bail out, that means Ethan won’t get his inheritance.
As bad as he is, that’s a terrible consequence.
What was Leonidas thinking?
Margot returns with a glass of water I slurp down in seconds. My hands are still shaking so much I spill some down my chin.
God, I’m a mess.
“We can talk this out, you know,” Margot says, sitting next to me. “I know he’s my brother. He’s also a colossal pain in the ass. I wouldn’t jump for joy at having to marry him either.”
“Yeah, well. That probably has something to do with the fact that he’s your brother.”
“Yeah, but if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t want to marry him. He’s too—”
“Appalling,” I suggest, trying to picture him in my mind.
I can’t imagine his face without a scowl or that smarmy smirk he’d always wear. Right before he decided to screw with me back when we were kids.
Has the man ever learned any other human expressions?
“Be honest,” Margot says. “How do you feel about it in general, Ethan aside?”
“Um. Like someone ran me down with a truck and backed over me a few times for good measure.”
She nods seriously. “Fair. I used to call him Dump Truck sometimes when we were kids and he’d get all angry.”
“What am I going to do, Margot?” I bury my head in my hands.
The worst part—the absolute worst—is that I don’t hate the idea of being his wife in a freaky abstract way.
Who wouldn’t want to marry a billionaire?
There are whole reality shows like that, I think.
Even if it’s just a chance to live it up rich for a little while.
Attention isn’t really my thing, but it would be a chance to be something more than my usual quiet, readery self.
A rare chance to live an adventure instead of just reading about them.
Unfortunately, that’s when I picture who I have to marry again to make this fantasy come true.
Ethan, standing in a dark suit like he’s waiting to collect my soul, devastatingly handsome and scowling like always.
Scowling at me.
Disapproving and incredibly pissed he’s tying the knot with a woman he’ll never truly want, till death do us part.
Yikes!
I blink to clear the image from my mind.
“You want me to marry him,” I whisper, knowing it’s not a question.
Obviously, she’s on team Hell Marriage or she never would’ve brought in the lawyer.
Margot winces, but before she can argue, there’s a buzz on the intercom and my mom’s voice floats out.
“Honey, it’s me. I’m just pulling up to your building and I’ve got something for you!” she sings.
Holy hell, what timing.
I drop my face back in my hands.
“Oh, man. Not good. Want me to send her away?” Margot asks like the babe she is. “I can say you’re not well.”
I wave her away. “That’s not going to work. If you tell her I’m unwell, she’ll insist on barging in to see me.”
“Even for a cold?” Margot blinks.
“Especially if it’s a cold. Try to keep her away and she’ll break down the door.” Although maybe if we mention a little projectile vomiting, it might give my mom second thoughts.
Then again, she’d probably just talk up the bright side, how maybe I’ll finally lose a few pounds and ‘reset’ my system with a fast.
I stagger up as the intercom buzzes again, and then my phone vibrates. If there’s one thing Mom doesn’t have, it’s patience.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, trying and failing to inject some lightness into my voice. I feel so deflated. “I’m just up here hanging out with Margot.”
“Oh, Margot! Tell her I can’t wait to see her.” Mom sounds delighted.
I knew she would be.
Probably because Margot is everything I’m not: slim, pretty and semi-successful.
“Mom, you’re like two minutes away. Tell her yourself.” I buzz her up with a sigh and make sure to shift my shirt around so it conceals my small belly as much as possible.
I regret that churro now. Unnecessary empty calories, as my health freak Mom would say.
My stomach knots uncomfortably.
“Don’t mention Ethan or… or anything!” I hiss at Margot.
“No weird forced marriage stuff. Got it.” She makes a zipping motion over her lips.