Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Butterflies take flight in my stomach. What the fuck! So I pull the bottle away and take a sip, hoping to drown them out.
I don’t think I’ll ever see this man again, so there’s no point in feeling any sexual tension around him.
“I’m going to live with my mother. How old are you?” I ask, and Crue smirks.
“Nineteen.” He looks at his brother when Angel shouts Dominic’s name and slaps him. They’re still giggling and making out.
“How old is your brother?” My eyes don’t follow his. Instead, they trace the outline of his jaw, the slight stubble of hair growing there, and I wonder if it’s as sharp as it looks.
“Almost eighteen.” Okay, he isn’t too much older than Angel. Crue looks back at me. “What do you plan to do in New York?”
“I plan to not have my father arrange my marriage. It’s why I’m leaving,” I answer, averting my gaze. He can’t force me to marry anyone if I'm not here. It’s basically selling ownership of my freedom, and I am not down for that.
“Hmm,” is his only response.
“What about you? Are you destined to marry anyone?” I ask sarcastically.
“If I choose.”
“Lucky you,” I grumble.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Crue smirks.
“Why?” I ask, becoming invested in this conversation.
“Because the one I’m arranged to marry is running off to New York.”
The bottle of wine in my hand feels red hot and I want to drop it to relieve the burn.
Did he just say what I think he did?
No.
“Bit stunned?” Crue asks. “Figured I would come meet the one I am matched to.” He turns and walks off, while I stand there, confused and slowly shaking my head.
I was told I had a match, and because of that, I had worked out a plan to get away.
Escape.
To be free.
Crue is to be my husband when I turn eighteen.
This man who is walking away from me right now.
“Stop!” I call after him.
He does, and when he looks back, I rethink my decision to leave. Should I stay? How bad would it be to be married to someone like him?
I’m not really sure.
“Why would you want to know?” I ask.
His hands slide into the pockets of his dark jeans, and I walk closer to stand by his side.
“If you had a choice, would you marry?” I question.
His response is quick and unyielding. “Yes. My father did it, and his father before that.”
That means Crue is next in line.
And his family?
I’ve heard horror stories about his family.
My father is powerful, but his family… well, they don’t play around. And it seems that I’m about to break a family tradition. Marriage to a Monti. It’s why my father was hoping for a boy. His generation skipped being married to a Monti, but I guess now that’s not the case.
“Do you not want to be in love? Not forced to marry someone not of your choosing?” I ask, baffled at his answer to my previous question.
“You may be able to run away, but I cannot.” His gaze slides to his brother before coming back to me. “If I’m not married by thirty-four, I will come find you, princess.”
His words take me aback.
“What if I am married?”
“That will be bad for your husband.” He smirks, then strides off.
CHAPTER 2
Rya
Today
Dear Miss Ricci
You don’t know this yet, but you will be my wife.
Sincerely
Your soon-to-be husband
“Thirty. Oh my God, Rya, thirty.” Monica throws her arms around my neck. My dress is half zipped up, and I struggle to get it all the way up because of her. I blow out a half-frustrated huff that’s assumed to be because I am struggling with the dress. But my mind keeps drawing back to the email I received earlier. It came from an email address I don’t recognize, and I put it straight in the trash when I saw it. Tonight isn’t the night to worry over random emails, and it’s probably a scam or something anyway.
“I know. Now, please pull away so I can get dressed.” I huff and tap her naked back. Monica couldn’t care less though—nudity to her is like clothes. The number of times I have gone over to her house and she has been butt-ass naked is insane. At least this time, I suppose she’s wearing a bra and panties. She also knows I hate affection, but she always needs it.
“I’m just excited, and you look so beautiful.” Monica finally pulls back and claps her hands. I zip up my teal dress, and I have the impression her excitement is more over the dress than me. Her breasts bounce, barely strapped in by her silky bronze bra, as she lets out another shrill noise. She intends to wear a low-cut dress that suits her figure perfectly, meaning she can, if she wants, have any man she desires. I’ve watched it happen multiple times throughout our friendship.