Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 68691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
And Kristian laughed then, a big, belly laugh, his tall form shaking so hard that I was afraid he’d crash the car.
“What?” I asked, stupefied. “What, what’s so funny?” I’d just admitted my big secret to him and half-expected him to throw me out, drop me like a hot coal, but instead the man was laughing so hard that I seriously thought he’d lost a nut, his blue eyes dancing mirthfully as he took me in.
After he calmed down somewhat, he looked over at me again, those big hands still on the driving wheel, taking us through the outskirts of the city, back to St. Venetia.
“Tina,” he said gently, “I already knew all that.”
“You did?” I asked, stupefied. “Why? How?” What did he know that I didn’t? I was sure my parents took every precaution to hide our diminishing fortunes, refusing to give up country club memberships, keeping all the right friends, spending lavishly on vacations. From the outside, no one should have been able to tell.
“Because girls who go to finishing school are often on the outs,” he said gently. “There are a dozen finishing schools, all filled with pretty young things hoping to make a good match. You think you’re the only one from a destitute family, who’s trying to pimp out their little girl to save the family fortune?” He snorted. “At any given time, there’s a fifty percent chance that the lady in question is a pauper, dolled up to look like a million bucks.”
And I thought for a moment.
“I don’t think so,” I said slowly. “I’m at Miss Carroll’s and none of the other girls are poor, they’ve got clothes, shoes and jewelry up to their eyeballs. Plus a bunch of my high school friends attend finishing schools in Switzerland, Luxembourg and the South of France, I know their families are rolling in it.”
But the prince just shook his head.
“Trust me baby, their families are just better at hiding it,” he said gently. “In fact, some families blow their last pennies putting their daughters in these schools, as an “investment” to revive their fortune. They buy their girls everything, the fanciest designer duds, the swankiest outfits, all in a last-ditch effort to attract someone loaded,” he shrugged. “Believe me honey, I’ve seen it up close.”
And here, I gasped, sitting back, staring at him suddenly.
“You’ve been through this before, haven’t you?” I asked slowly, realization dawning. “The made-to-order bride stuff, this isn’t your first rodeo, is it?”
And he just grinned at me cheekily, showing those pearly whites.
“That’s right,” he confirmed, this time with a positive smirk on that handsome face. “Besides, I’ve been a prime target since I was a kid. Ladies were lining up before I could talk, in the cradle still. That’s right, hopeful parents were throwing their baby daughters at my parents, sending gifts, dropping hints, in the hopes that a lucrative match could be worked out pronto.”
And suddenly I felt dumb, really dumb. Of course Kristian knew. He was hot property on the Continent, one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe. Of course he knew how the system worked, girls from fading families had been hurled his way for years now, I just happened to be the latest in a string of impoverished Cinderellas.
“So what’s stopped you?” I asked slowly. “You’ve been in the bull’s eye your whole life, why haven’t you picked one of these girls? Or is it,” and suddenly I stopped, dread overcoming me, “you’re looking to marry rich too?”
And Kristian laughed even harder at that, practically bellowing now, I was sure people could hear us through the closed windows of the car.
“Naw baby, my family’s good,” he threw out, smiling so hard I thought his cheeks might crack. “I’m good, no need to trot out the dollars for me.”
And I slumped in my seat, mortified. Had I just implied that the St. Venetians were a crumbling royal house, that they needed dollars under the table? But Kristian continued.
“In fact, my family’s pretty good at protecting our fortune,” he drawled. “They had you checked out before we set out this morning.”
I gasped, turning to him.
“They had me what?” I sputtered.
“Checked out,” he said helpfully again. “It’s standard protocol for us, it’s not that weird if you think about it. Their Crown Prince is headed to a ghetto with a woman he’s never met before, of course they worked up a dossier on you, investigated you.”
My face flamed.
“A dossier?” I repeated dumbly. “You must be kidding. You’ve seen it? What’s in it?”
“Nope, I haven’t seen it,” he said cheerfully, “but I know it exists. It’s probably pretty thin, I only met you yesterday, unless,” and here he paused dramatically, “there’s more about you than meets the eye.”
And I was silent.
“No, I think I’ve told you everything now,” I mumbled. “In fact, I think you knew everything before I even uttered a peep.”