Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Panic blooms like an inkblot in my chest. Does that mean they know about—
“But then I remembered how hot it is here. No need for coats. Or coat closets. You’ll have to take your trysts elsewhere.”
The feeling in my chest takes on a different tone. From panic to . . . oh.
Fin DeWitt is one of those. A wedding fuckboy? One I got off with. One who got me off?
“And could you just try to stop making women fall in love with you?” Evie folds her arms. “Turn off the charm. Just for five minutes.”
“It’s not necessary on my account,” I put in pertly.
“Oh, no, Mila. I was talking about the young girl.”
I’m not sure whether that makes me feel better or worse.
“Sarai?” Fin’s expression twists as he dumps his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. “She’s just a kid.”
Feeling a little better.
Evie glances my way and gives her head a tiny admonishing shake. “Women eight to eighty just can’t help themselves around him.”
And . . . worse again.
“Not all women,” Oliver corrects, his hand sliding around his fiancée’s waist.
“That’s because I like my men growly and grumpy. I wonder why that is?”
“You must be perverse.” Oliver pulls his fiancée closer.
Evie tips onto her toes, pressing a kiss to her groom’s cheek. The pair begins to whisper and laugh in a sweet-looking PDA.
“Not in front of the kids,” Fin says, but he’s smiling—a full-out dimple smile—like he’s truly happy for his friends. “Love,” he says with a shrug.
“Yes,” I answer simply. Life has been such a roller coaster lately, and it’s been hard to remember why I do what I do while trying to keep my head above water. But seeing Evie and Oliver so obviously in love is a reminder that I have one of the best jobs in the world.
I just need to get it to a place where it pays my bills again.
“What about you? Mila.” Fin seems to almost taste my name. “How do you like your men?” Slipping his hands into his pockets, he saunters closer.
I like my men the same way I like my coffee. Ground to dust and kept in my freezer.
“Marrying other women,” I say instead. “And in fabulous locations like this!” I tack on, sounding more like an old-fashioned game show hostess and less like a woman scorned. I mean, I’m not a woman scorned. Just a woman disappointed. I suppose I imagined our closet encounter as something special for him too.
“It’s good that you’ve met,” Evie says as she untangles herself from Oliver’s embrace. “Especially as Oliver and I have a favor to ask you both.”
“Both?” I glance Fin’s way. He seems just as bemused as me.
“Yeah, you see, the thing is, we’re not getting married.”
“Oh . . . dear.” Oh, fuck, more like. I reach for the back of the nearest chair, feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut. This is a catastrophe. I’m going to end up homeless—sleeping rough on a bench in Victoria Station!
“I’m so sorry. Especially after all the wonderful work you’ve put in.”
“This isn’t about me,” I answer, lying through my teeth. “I’m just so sad to hear you’re not getting married.”
At least I’ve been paid, though the money is long gone. But this wedding was meant to be Trousseau’s relaunch. Also . . . how come they don’t look like a couple on the verge of a breakup?
“Today.” Evie gives her head a tiny shake. “We’re not getting married today. I should’ve said,” she adds, painting on a bright smile. “Things really aren’t as dire as all that.”
Maybe not for you, I think as she reaches for Oliver’s hand.
“We’re not staying on the island,” he says. “We’re moving the wedding elsewhere thanks to a breach of confidentiality and the press learning of our plans.”
“It wasn’t me,” I answer reflexively, which probably makes it sound like it was. But I signed the NDA and I had plans, dammit!
“No, of course,” Evie says with a frown. “It was probably my stepsister. It seems she’s recently given up on finding a husband and become an influencer. She’s super pissed she didn’t get an invite.”
“As we understand it, the City Chronicle already have boots on the ground.”
Oliver makes it sound like a military campaign. Maybe it is to him.
“When did you hear that?” Fin asks.
“Before we left.”
“And you didn’t think to say anything?” he demands, his expression hardening.
“I’m doing so now,” Oliver deadpans. “You were already in Jakarta.”
“I could’ve stayed there.” Fin opens his hands, clearly confused as to why he’s here.
“They’ve chartered a boat, Fin,” Evie entreats. “They’re probably already out there, sitting in the bay. They might even be filming us right now! All I want to do is marry the man I love without those vultures watching on, just waiting for me to run again.”