Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Aren’t we all just proud of her,” Anne quipped with a tight smile.
“Of course we are,” her mother said softly. “And Cannon, I really appreciate you letting us be here. Seeing as you don’t have your mother with you.”
“Where is mommy dearest, anyway?” Anne asked, taking a bottle of water from the end table.
My stomach clenched.
“She died when I was younger. Is that for me?” I asked the tailor, hoping the abrupt change of subject would signal that my mother’s death wasn’t up for discussion.
“Yes, Mr. Price.” The tailor handed me the vest, and I put it on, then buttoned the avocado green fabric over the tuxedo shirt.
“The color’s all wrong!” Mrs. VanDoren chided as she stood.
“This is the color you ordered, Mrs. VanDoren,” the tailor assured her.
“It most certainly is not. Maybe if this was nineteen seventy four, or we were looking for baby-vomit, but I assure you, that is not the color we ordered.”
“I have the order right here,” his assistant said, flipping through her notebook. “The color was called in last week by Andromeda VanDoren?”
Anne stood and folded her arms. “I ordered silver like you asked, Mama.”
“Oh,” the assistant’s brow furrowed. “Well, there’s only two numbers different from silver, so maybe I took it down wrong?”
“Of course you did.” Anne arched an eyebrow. “And you’d better get it fixed before the wedding.”
I would have bet my entire year’s salary that Anne had called in the number wrong on purpose. She’d been a bitter little witch the entire week whenever Persephone brought up the wedding.
“Okay,” Mrs. VanDoren put her hand out to her daughter to settle her down. “I’m sure something can be done. Let’s not panic. Claude, why don’t we step into the back and see what fabric you might have on hand. Cannon, do you mind waiting for just a second?”
“No, ma’am. I’ll be right here.” This entire shitstorm my life was wrapped up in was to make the woman happy, so I’d stand here until the shop closed if that accomplished the mission.
“Thank you, dear.” The three of them walked out of the fitting area, leaving me with Anne and a massive headache.
“Why don’t you call her Sephie? I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Anne asked as she walked closer.
“Because Sephie is the name of a child, and Persephone is a grown-ass woman,” I replied, examining the cuffs of the shirt.
“Hmmm. Is she, really?” Anne challenged as she walked around the dais, studying my pants. “The fit is good.” She grabbed a handful of my ass and squeezed. “Really good.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I seethed, stepping away from her. Was it the first time a woman had grabbed at me without my permission? No. Boundaries were something that some fans didn’t quite understand. However, it was the first time the sister of a woman I was involved with had done it.
Are you really involved with Persephone? Or just married to her?
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Anne stepped up on the dais and immediately came at me like I was going to welcome her advance.
“Back the fuck down,” I warned her as I stepped off the platform. “I’m married to your sister.” Jesus, Persephone was going to be crushed when I told her.
She scoffed. “Married? So what? Sisters share.” She shrugged.
“I’m not a fucking sweater from the GAP,” I hissed softly, hoping her mother wouldn’t hear. That would definitely fuck up mission Keep-Mom-Happy. I folded my arms across my chest and stood my ground. I wasn’t letting her chase me all over the goddamned shop.
“Like I’d shop at the GAP.” She stalked forward, eyeing me like prey. “And come on, Cannon. I know your rep, both on the ice and with the women. There’s no way a man like you could be satisfied with a frigid, fragile little princess like my sister.” She smirked. “Because I’m well aware that she doesn’t know how to please a man. And honestly, no man would look as frustrated as you do all the time if he was getting what he needed at home.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Rage blossomed in my chest, fierce and undeniable. I’d never put my hands on a woman in my life, but I’d never encountered a snake like Anne, even living in some of the shittiest situations a kid could be put in.
“I’m sorry?” She looked genuinely confused.
“Holy shit, are you that used to getting your way that you can’t understand that I don’t want you? That there’s zero fucking chance I’d ever touch you willingly? Persephone is everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I will ever want. So I’ll ask you again—are you out of your fucking mind?” It didn’t matter if I really was as sexually frustrated as she’d accused. Hell yes, I was on edge. I slept next to Persephone every single night, wondering if it would be the night I finally snapped and took everything she’d offered back in the library—took everything I wanted. My control was a single, thin, fraying thread when it came to my wife, but there wasn’t anyone else I wanted.