Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
It’s like a speed dating round except I never signed up and had no clue it was about to happen.
Three more men chat with me in quick succession. There’s the hedge fund manager that only talks about himself, the painter that freely admits he’s only doing this because he’d love to ingratiate himself with my family, and the banker that brags about working eighty hours a week. By the time I slip upstairs into the main hall of the Oak Club and hide near the massive tree growing right in the middle of the building, I’m exhausted and drained and thinking this marriage thing is a huge mistake.
Something must be the matter with me. None of those guys were particularly awful—the painter was actually kind of handsome—but I felt absolutely nothing for them, no spark, no excitement.
But why do I need that? This is supposed to be an arrangement, nothing more than a business deal, something to connect my family with another prominent family, something to make Grandfather happy with me for the first time ever. I could choose the least terrible of the bunch and maybe even grow to like him after a while, but the thought of spending my life with a man I don’t particularly like all that much, pumping out his children and devoting myself to them while he wastes his days and nights at clubs like this one because there’s nothing interesting to him back at home, feels like slow motion suicide.
I’ve always wanted the storybook romance. It’s stupid, I know, and more than a little childish, but I lost myself in old Disney movies and romantic comedies and more than a few romance novels when I was younger and miserable, and something must’ve seeded inside of me. I want that burning need, that spark, that excitement, but I’ve never experienced it before with a guy and definitely never will if I sell myself off to the first man with a decent last name that happens to agree to marry me.
And that’s exactly what Grandfather wants. It’s what I’m going to do. Only I’m facing down the reality of the situation and coming to grips with it, and it’s not feeling good.
“Kat Stockton.”
The voice yanks me from my self-pity. None of those other guys used my nickname—the name I prefer if I’m honest—and this voice sounds familiar. I look over as a man comes toward me, tall and handsome, wearing a slim black suit with dark hair and dark eyes and a small puckered scar on the left side of his mouth that makes it look like he’s got a secret. Tattoos poke out from the edges of his shirt and at his neck, and his chiseled jaw and strong arms make something flutter in my chest.
Ford Arc stands there with a glass of whiskey in one hand and the other shoved in his pocket.
I haven’t seen this man in a long time. Not since school, back when he was in Sara Lynn’s class. I’ve heard about him in the meantime, of course—the Arc family and my family hate each other because of some weird feud that spans generations, apparently—but I haven’t actually seen him in person.
The old Ford from school was always big and boyish and handsome, but this man is downright gorgeous. It’s like he bends the light around him, drawing in the shadows, making him seem like he’s glowing in the middle of a veil of darkness. He still has that same aura, this strange attractive pull that makes people want to be around him, except he gives off the intense feeling that he thinks the whole world is a joke. Maybe it’s the scar or maybe it’s the way he stares with those beautiful eyes, always half-smiling.
“Ford,” I say and clear my throat. “Hey, uh, I forgot you and Sara Lynn knew each other.”
He chuckles and swirls his drink. “We went to Baker Prep together but I wouldn’t say we know each other. I’m not attending the party. I think half your cousins and uncles would try to fight me if I dared to step foot downstairs.”
“Oh, right,” I say, flushing. “The feud.”
“The feud,” he agrees and tilts his head, still smiling, still looking like he thinks this is the most amusing conversation in the world. “What are you doing hiding up here?”
I consider telling him the truth for one insane moment, but decide to play it safe. “The crowd was getting to me.”
“I don’t blame you. A room full of Stocktons? That’s the worst place in the world.”
I laugh despite myself. “You don’t really buy into that whole feud thing, do you?”
“Honestly, I have no clue what it’s even about.”
“Neither do I. Grandfather tried to explain it once but it just sounded like a bunch of old stuff nobody cares about.”