Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Ha. That’s a trap if I’ve ever heard one. “We’ll see.”
I take my phone out, open up the contract, and hand it to her. Her hands remain very still as she reads through it.
“This is practically a marriage contract,” she says as she continues to scan it.
“Technically, but we still have to get married in court.”
“Shares?” Her brows hike up. “That’s insane.”
I grit my teeth. It could be about the money, after all. It doesn't matter. The important thing is that she's going to sign it. She keeps scrolling. Finally, she signs it with the tip of her finger and hands the phone back to me. I fucking love technology. She storms into her bedroom, and I start dialing my driver. I'd dismissed him, but since he can't fly out until tomorrow, he's still at the hotel. I'll have him check me out of my room early and bring my bag. There's no way I'm sleeping apart from her.
CHAPTER 30
DELILAH
At least, he lets me shower and change in peace. I can’t believe I’m doing this. He must really hate me to take me back there, knowing I’ll relive a nightmare. And marriage? I’m not against it. Sooner or later, I know deep down that I would have married the old Lachlan. This one? Not so much. But I’m going through with it because damn it, I care about him, and if this is the only way for him to get his inheritance, I’ll help him. Besides, there’s an expiration date and he’s obviously going to let me finish my residency. That alone will take two years. By the end, I’ll cash out and pay back all of my loans. I wouldn’t even consider cashing out if he wasn’t such an asshole now. He made out with me, manhandled me inside the building, yelled at me, and demanded I leave with him. I keep replaying everything, and I still can’t wrap my head around it.
The more I think about it, the sadder I become. I knew that when we saw each other again, things would be difficult in the very beginning. I didn’t think it would be like this, though. I knew he’d be upset, so I was prepared for an argument. The difference was that when it played out in my head, we’d argue and have makeup sex and live happily ever after. Dumb, I know. Obviously, really fucking dumb, considering my situation right now.
I need to call Marissa and talk to her about this. I change fast into the first pajama I grab— a cropped t-shirt and matching shorts. It’s a freaking Snoopy pajama set, but I don’t have many options to sleep in. When I slept with him, I wore t-shirts and panties to bed, which I still wear. There’s no way I’ll walk around in my underwear in front of this Lachlan Duke. Not that I think he’d give me a second glance. Something tells me that his hatred for me overrides his attraction and whatever else he used to feel for me. The thought makes my heart hurt, but I ignore it and focus. I need to pack, which I hate doing, since I either overpack or forget everything. At least, my toiletries are somewhat organized and will be easy.
When I leave the bathroom, I feel the air go out of my lungs and freeze on the spot. He’s so damn gorgeous. I could look at him for hours. I have looked at him for hours. Seeing him sitting on my bed, as he types on his phone, is unreal. I’ve never had a man in my bedroom, and I never let myself imagine him here. Not because I didn’t want him here, but because I couldn’t have him. I was already hurting myself enough without this image.
I continue to stare, making sure that I’m not making him up. I’m completely sober now. After that conversation and the shower, there’s no way I wouldn’t be, but he still seems like a mirage. He’s here and so close that I can touch him, kiss him, and climb on his lap. My heart skips, as I envision myself doing that. That daydream is quickly replaced by a vision of him pushing me off him and yelling at me for thinking I have any right to do that.
That hurtful thought snaps me out of it and makes me move to the closet. I grab my suitcase and focus on packing. I open my sock drawer and pause when I realize I don’t know what to pack. It’s not like I have a ton of options, but I do happen to have a white dress. Not that it matters. It’s not an actual wedding, so it’s not like I need one. The thought chips away at my heart a little. I set it aside. I also have a deep green silk dress and a little black dress because, clearly, I’ve become a walking cliché here.