Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Stop pulling it, come on, Lilah. It’s a beautiful dress, you’ll ruin it.”
He gently disentangled her hem from the dress and squeezed her leg, sending a shudder of… something—Awareness? Desire? Revulsion? At this point it was anyone’s guess—up her spine.
He rearranged her skirt around her feet, carefully scooping up a handful in the front and holding it up to her. She grabbed it from him, making certain to keep her fingers well away from his.
He straightened lithely and dug the keycard from his trouser pocket. He turned toward the front door and made short work of opening it.
There was a moment’s awkwardness when he hesitated before stepping aside to allow her to enter the suite before him. And Lilah knew that they were both aware that under ordinary circumstances, this would be when a real groom would sweep his bride up into his arms and carry her into the quaint little structure.
Instead, Lilah scurried past him, making every effort not to brush against him in the process. Not that there was any chance of that at all—he stood so far back he reminded her of a little boy on a playground, terrified of catching cooties from the hideous girl.
Once inside the beautiful cottage, she found herself at a loss. The bed was strewn with rose petals of the same pale pink as her bridal bouquet—exquisite attention to detail from the hotel staff—there was a magnum of champagne in a silver ice bucket on the table, a congratulatory card stood up between a couple of flutes beside the bucket.
It was all so sickeningly romantic.
Lilah made a distressed sound in the back of her throat and moved toward the open door of the bathroom.
“Lilah, wait.”
“I have to get out of this dress.” She was aware of the urgency in her choked voice, but she couldn’t bear to remain in the gown for a second longer. She tore at the pins in her hair—they’d started digging into her scalp, adding an extra layer of pain to her already pounding head—leaving them scattered in her wake.
“It’ll keep for a while longer. I think we have to talk about this.”
“A little too late for talking now, don’t you think?” she asked bitterly, but nonetheless paused halfway across the room and reluctantly turned to face him.
He had his hands thrust into his trouser pockets, and his teeth worried his lower lip as he stared at her from beneath his fall of hair, his gaze brooding and intent.
“Earlier… in the car. The stuff you said about marrying me because of the board? I know that it was all bullshit.”
“I don’t know why you’d—”
“Lilah, cut the crap. I know you were lying. I can always tell when you’re lying. You didn’t marry me because of the board, you only said that because you thought it was what I wanted to hear. And, because we had that whole fucking circus of a wedding you organized to get through, I didn’t challenge you on it then.”
“I’m tired, I don’t want to talk about this now,” she said, feeling short of breath in a way that had nothing to do with her asthma and everything to do with the panic she could feel setting in.
Please, dear God, just let her salvage some pride from the shitshow her life had become. Just a little bit of dignity.
But it wasn’t to be. Because her asshole of a husband was relentless and seemingly determined to strip her of the little pride and dignity she had left.
“Look,” he murmured, gentling his voice, which was somehow worse because that gentle tone of voice screamed pity. And Lilah didn’t want, or need, his damned pity. “I thought we were on the same page when I proposed. I assumed you knew why I—” He stopped abruptly, not completing the sentence and instead shook his head impatiently. “Lilah, if we didn’t marry for the same reasons, then it stands to reason that your motivation was fueled by something else. Something more emotional. And while I was staggered by your vows and didn’t react in the best way, I think that maybe it would be more convenient—better—if you do have those feelings for me.”
Lilah gasped at those words and stared at him in horrified disbelief.
“Are you saying it would be better if I loved you even though you don’t love me? Convenient and better for whom, Ben? You? Because it certainly wouldn’t be for me.”
“But why? You’d be getting what you want, right? You’d be getting me.” That he said it without a trace of irony or arrogance was somehow more offensive than if he’d been smug about it. He truly didn’t grasp how casually cruel he was being right now. “I meant it when I promised you today that I’d be faithful to you. We could have a good marriage, Lilah. I could be content and you could be happy. And when we start a family, you’d have someone else on whom to focus your love. We’re in this now, we might as well make the best of it. You and I wouldn’t be so…” His voice tapered off and he sighed heavily. “I just think we should give it a fair shot. And if you feel that you’re in love with me, this could work. We would make it work and start a family.”