Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“How are you, Evie?”
“I’m feeling kind of murderous.”
“Fiery.” His eyes skate over my hair. “I love when your temper brings out the redhead in you.”
“And I love it when you’re on a different continent.”
“Evie,” he says, twirling us around the floor, despite the fact that it must feel like he’s dancing with a corpse. “You’d think I was the only one in the wrong.”
I grit my teeth, refusing to bite.
“This was originally my plan, you know. Getting you to meet the old bloke.”
“So you could get your hands on his house. Yes, I know.” Now.
“But it wasn’t the only reason I asked you to marry me. I love you.”
“Great! I’m so happy to hear that. Let’s leave, run off together, and be happy forever.”
“But you’ll do it for him.”
“Are you kidding me right now!” Because Mitch put me in this position! My feet come to a stop, and I push him, manners be damned. I swing away, when he grabs my wrist. “Let go of me,” I grate out. The dance floor is packed; I’m not sure if I’m relieved or panicked that no one seems to notice our scuffle.
“Loved you, I should say. Past tense. I wouldn’t have you back, not after you’ve been fucking him.”
“That upsets me . . . not one bit.”
I try to move away, but he yanks me to him again. I guess, torso to torso, we must look like we’re dancing, but I get right in his face, refusing to be cowed.
“I thought I was in love with you, but how could I be? You were nothing but a ghost.”
“Better a ghost than the devil, Evie. What was he doing there that day? You tell me that.”
“Like the man said, it was an act of fate. And I thank the Lord above for sending him when he did. Is that even your accent?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re a posh boy.” My eyes flit over him in distaste. “You can’t even own it.”
“That’s rich coming from you—you and your I’m so sick of the bourgeoise narrative,” he mocks. “Rich men aren’t worth the pain. But look who you’re fucking now.”
“At least he doesn’t pretend to be someone he’s not.”
“You’re nothing but a lying slut.”
“I wasn’t, you know.” My tone turns silky as I whisper in his ear. “But on our supposed wedding night, I turned slut for him.”
His hand suddenly tangles in the back of my hair, like a lover holding me close.
“You ruined everything,” he growls.
“And you fucked your way through half of London.”
“Hardly,” he scoffs.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out that you were screwing Jen? And I know you were fucking his PA.”
He laughs quite suddenly. “Ah, the lovely Lucy. Is that what he said she was to him?”
“I don’t care who she is or that you were fucking her.” I try to pull away, my pulse jackhammering in my throat when he holds me there.
“There was a slight overlap, I’ll grant you that,” he says, sounding quite proud of himself. Yara was right. The dude is smug. “You didn’t expect me to say faithful, did you, love? Not when we went months without seeing each other.” He sickens me. I can barely believe this was the man I was about to marry. It’s all so clear now. I ignored who he was in favor of being right about him—about our marriage.
“Get your hands off me.”
“Come with me, and I’ll confess every dirty detail.”
“I would rather dry hump a cheese grater,” I mutter, pulling away, pushing my hands against his chest, and not caring a jot if I end up with a bald patch. I stomp my heel into his foot, and he curses. I spin away, two steps, and I’m out of his reach. But then, like tendrils of cold dread, his fingers grip my wrist again. He squeezes, and I wince, my words hitting the air on a pained breath.
“You’re hurting me.”
“That’s the idea, though breaking your wrist would be a poor substitute for your neck.”
“People are staring,” I say, catching the eye of one half of a waltzing couple. I’m not lying—she did see. She just refused to make it her business. So much for sisterhood. “They’ll alert security. Let me go.”
Against my back, Mitchell’s chest moves with an inhale, but the voice that speaks isn’t his.
“I suggest you do as the lady says.”
Chapter 33
OLIVER
“Ah, there you are!” A fourth joins us, Matt throwing his arm around Eve as we stand in the middle of the dance floor, Mitchell and I snarling and circling like dogs.
That bastard has his hands on her. He touched what he doesn’t deserve.
“I said let her go.” At my demand, Matt’s gaze drops to where Mitchell’s fingers make a manacle on Eve’s wrist. He frowns. He knows people are staring, knows the press is here. Painting on a sloppy smile, he drapes himself around her like this isn’t an altercation but a drunken conversation. In the middle of the dance floor. But I suppose the intoxicated rarely make sense.