Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
But that's not the face of a woman on the happiest day of her life. Fucking wedding day, she should be beaming, but she looks miserable. Her expression is blank and fragile, like one wrong move and it could shatter just like this chandelier is about to. What the fuck kind of wedding has the bride looking like she'd rather be anywhere else but here?
Whatever. It's none of my fucking business. And I can't make it my business. I've got a fucking job to do.
Still, it makes me wanna smooth her hair back and kiss her senseless until she forgets all about what's bothering her. And from how tight my jeans feel, I'd be happy to comfort her in some other ways too.
With a resigned sigh, I give the explosives a last check. Need to get this over with so I can have one of the sluts take care of business and clear my fucking mind. I can’t be letting some crooked billionaire’s brat get to me so much that I can’t do my fucking job. I shimmy back up to the ramp and across back to the guys. “Job's done.”
Shadow pulls out his phone and flips up an app with a big button on it. “Time for the fireworks?”
I throw a last glance over my shoulder. We’re out of time. In a minute, the doors are going to open and Mesner and his hot as fuck daughter will start the walk. I nod. “Start the timer.”
2
HARPER
“You're so beautiful!” the stylist exclaims as she puts the final touches on my hair and makeup, shaping my eyebrows like Michelangelo finishing the Sistine Chapel.
Am I?
The face staring back at me from the mirror is a shell shocked stranger. A week ago I was so excited to meet my father for the first time. A man who hardly seemed real after a lifetime of imagining who he could be, and then building him up in my head as some kind of big hero for accepting me as his own and literally saving Mom’s life by paying for the experimental gene treatment that was our only shot at keeping her alive.
One moment, I was barely making ends meet while watching Mom fade before my eyes, and the next, I’m in a designer wedding dress about to get married to a man I’ve seen twice.
Like… what?
I smile at… Cate? Christy? No, Cassandra. “Thank you.” She's just doing her job. I bet my father paid her a lot to be here, but I just feel numb.
In the mirror, the door opens behind me and the man himself comes in, dressed in a perfectly fitting black tuxedo that I bet never saw a rack. “You look beautiful, darling.”
“Doesn’t she? Your daughter is a little nervous I think,” Cassandra says with a satisfied grin, spinning my chair around.
“Could you give us a minute before we go out there?” he asks her.
The stylist nods. “Sure, I’m all done anyway. Congratulations, Harper. I hope you have a wonderful wedding.”
I stand, the heavy silk wedding dress swirling around my legs. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and probably cost enough to pay off the college debt that’s still hanging over my head from my two years of studying before I had to drop out to take care of Mom. But I don’t want it. I don’t want any of this.
Vincent—I can’t bring myself to think of him as Dad—smiles. I hate it. The familiar way he treats me feels disingenuous. As much as I want a relationship with him, we just met. I barely know him any better than the man he wants me to marry for reasons of his own. I'm a convenient pawn in whatever game he's playing.
And I can’t help the small niggling doubts about why Mom always refused to tell me anything about my father or her life before I was born. I always thought she was disowned and embarrassed about getting pregnant or something, but what if it was more serious than that?
I wish I could talk to her, but the pain medications she was on when I found the old picture that brought me here made it impossible to ask. She’s improving now at the rehabilitation facility, but the doctors told me any stress could jeopardize her recovery.
“Mr. Mesner—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Please. I’m your father. That sounds so formal.” His smile widens, and his bright white incisors look uncomfortably sharp.
“Um… yeah. Listen, I know I agreed to this, but does it have to happen today? It’s not like Devin will be heartbroken or anything. He doesn’t even know me. I’m so grateful for everything you've done for Mom, for us, but I need more time.” I look up at him hopefully. Maybe we just met, but I’m his daughter, right?