Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Inked in tar and sealed in tears.
It was supposed to be a harmless kiss at a lavish debutante ball.
A clandestine moment with a handsome stranger.
But unlike his namesake, my Romeo isn’t driven by love.
He’s fueled by revenge.
To him, I’m a chess piece. Leverage.
His rival’s betrothed.
To me, he is a man deserving of poison.
A dark prince I refuse to marry.
He thinks I’ll accept my fate.
Well, I plan to rewrite it.
And in my story, Juliet doesn’t die.
But Romeo? He perishes.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Soundtrack
Starphucker — Beauty School Dropout
heartbreak honeymoon — Mad Tsai
I’m Not Sorry — Dean & Eric Bellinger
Lover Like Me — CL
Take What You What — ONE OK ROCK ft. 5 Seconds of Summer
favorite crime — Olivia Rodrigo
WE MADE PLANS & GOD LAUGHED — Beauty School Dropout
Wedding Dress — TAEYANG
Strawberries and Wine — Jaylon Ashaun
Easier — 5 Seconds of Summer
End Game — Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran, & Future
HABIBI (MY LOVE) — Faouzia
Control — Halsey
Born Without a Heart — Faouzia
The Happiest Girl — BLACKPINK
Crush — Yuna & Usher
Oceans & Engines — NIKI
Si Fueras Mia — D.O.
Lay Your Head on Me — Crush
Time — The Rose
Die for You — Beauty School Dropout
Bonnie & Clyde — YUQI
Listen on:
Spotify | YouTube
I always assumed my life was a romance novel. That between my pages nestled a happily ever after.
It never occurred to me that I miscategorized my genre. That it could be a horror story. A blood-chilling thriller.
Then Romeo Costa typhooned into my world, ripping off my rose-colored glasses.
He taught me darkness.
He taught me strength.
Most importantly, he delivered the cruelest lesson of all—there’s beauty in every beast. Thorns in every rose. And a love story can blossom—even from the carcass of hate.
“Oh, Lord, they weren’t bluffing, were they? He really is in town.” Emilie latched on to my wrist, coffin nails sinking into the tan flesh.
“So is Oliver von Bismarck.” Savannah extended her arm. “Someone pinch me.”
I did so with pleasure.
“Ow, Dal. Stop being so literal.”
I shrugged, fixing my attention on the catering beside us. The real reason I’d appeared at the debutante ball tonight.
I plucked a chocolate-covered pomelo peel from a crystal tray and crushed it between my teeth, savoring the bitter-sour nectar.
God wasn’t a man.
God wasn’t a woman, either.
God was probably a piece of Godiva-covered fruit.
“What are they doing here? They’re not even from the South.” Emilie stole Sav’s debutante program and fanned her face. “And they’re definitely not here to meet women. Both are die-hard bachelors. Didn’t Costa dump a whole-ass Swedish princess last summer?”
“As opposed to a partial-ass Swedish princess?” I wondered aloud.
“Dal.”
Where were the Portuguese custard tarts?
I was promised Portuguese custard tarts.
“You said there’d be pastéis de nata.” I snatched a consolation prize—melopita—and waved it at Emilie. “Serves me right for trusting you again.”
Her hawk eyes caught me slipping two Polish donuts into my bag. “Dal, you can’t hide that in your Chanel. You’ll ruin the calfskin.”
Sav shoved a frantic fist into her clutch, retrieving a tube of lipstick. “I heard von Bismarck is in town to buy Le Fleur.”
Jenna’s daddy owned Le Fleur. They manufactured percale sheets for five-diamond hotels. In eighth grade, Emilie and I ran away from home and slept in their showroom for a week before our daddies found us.
“What does he need Le Fleur for?” I picked a kanafeh next, my back still to the mythical creatures my best friends had collectively lost their minds over.
Judging by the urgent whispers around us, they were not the only ones.
Emilie snatched the Bond No. 9 from Savannah, applying a generous coat to her lips. “He’s in hotels and hospitality. Owns a little chain called The Grand Regent. You might’ve heard of it.”
The Grand Regent began as an exclusive, invite-only resort before metastasizing into more branches than the Hilton. So, I gathered Pompous von Fancypants wasn’t strapped for cash.
In fact, obscene generational wealth was the unspoken entry ticket to tonight’s event.
The 303rd Chapel Falls Royal Debutante Ball was a glorified dog show that attracted every billionaire and mega millionaire in the state.
Fathers paraded their cotillion-bred daughters around the Astor Opera House in hopes they’d perform well enough to be courted by men in the same tax bracket.
I hadn’t come here to find a husband.
Before my birth, Daddy had already promised me to someone, which the diamond ring on my engagement finger reminded me.
This always seemed like a problem for the future—up until I discovered the official announcement on the society pages two days ago.
“I hear Romeo is dead-set on becoming the CEO of his daddy’s company.” Lord, Sav was still droning on about him. Were they planning on penning the man’s Wikipedia? “Already, he’s a billionaire.”
“Not just a billionaire. A mega billionaire.” Emilie fingered a marquise diamond on her Broderie bracelet, her poker tell. “And he’s not the type to blow it all on yachts and gold toilet seats or funding self-indulged pet projects.”
Sav snuck a desperate glance at them through her compact mirror. “Do you think we can be introduced?”
Emilie’s eyebrows pinched together. “Nobody here knows them. Dal? Dallas? Are you even listening to the conversation? This is important.”
The only grave situation I’d witnessed was the lack of shortbread, too.
Reluctantly, I fixed my eyes on the two men that parted the thick crowd of silk chiffon and frozen updos.
They both stood at least six-three. A towering height that made them look like giants trying to squeeze into doll houses.