Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“Jamie.” The pressure of Ryan’s thumb increased slightly.
Sighing, James relented and looked at his friend.
A furrow wrinkled Ryan’s forehead. “Has he been pressuring you again?”
James almost laughed. Ryan didn’t know the half of it. His dad always pressured him, but Ryan didn’t need to know that. Ryan would just get mad, they would fight over it, then inevitably make up after a few days, because they were terrible at functioning without each other; always had been.
“Arthur has no right to ask this of you,” Ryan said, his eyes hard. “He’s your father, not your owner. The whole betrothal thing is bloody archaic and ridiculous.”
James shook his head with a thin smile. Ryan didn’t understand. He never did, no matter how many times James had tried to explain it. It was one of those few things that they just didn’t get about each other’s life. James supposed it wasn’t that surprising, considering how different their background and upbringing was. Ryan had five siblings—four brothers and a sister—and James still remembered how strange Ryan’s family seemed to him when Ryan had brought him home for the first time all those years ago. It had been a cultural shock. As a child, James had lived in huge mansions all his life, the sole heir to an enormous fortune, pampered and spoiled by everyone around him.
By contrast, the Hardaway kids had lived in a small flat and there hadn’t been enough money to spoil any of them. It didn’t help that Ryan’s father had died shortly before James met Ryan, and that Ryan’s mother’s health wasn’t good. The entire family had basically depended on Ryan’s eldest brother, who had become the de facto head of the family at the age of sixteen. James knew Zach had done his best, working overtime to make sure his younger siblings didn’t need anything. He succeeded for the most part, but for years, things had been difficult for the Hardaways, and all of them had grown up fast—because they had to. James still remembered how embarrassed and ashamed he felt for having it so easy when he saw Ryan’s home for the first time.
But money couldn’t buy everything. James would have given anything to have such a boisterous and close-knit family as Ryan did. James loved the Hardaways. By now they were a second family to him. Sometimes he actually felt more comfortable with Ryan’s family than with his own.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love his own family. He did. He was grateful for what he had. Their family may not be as warm and close-knit as the Hardaways, but his parents loved him; he knew it. They weren’t the problem; the family name was—or rather, what being a Grayson entailed. The Graysons were one of the oldest noble families in Britain. Kings died, wars were fought, political systems changed, but the Graysons stayed, unchanged and proud, rich and influential, close advisers of prime ministers and the Royal Family. They were actually related to the Royal Family—his dad was eleventh in the line of succession. One who wasn’t born a Grayson couldn’t understand what it meant. Not even Ryan, who was as close to him as a twin, could. Maybe especially Ryan.
“Dad isn’t forcing me into anything,” James said. “He’s not as bad as you think.”
The expression on Ryan’s face remained hard and unimpressed. “Sure,” he said. “He’s just fed you bullshit about duty to the family since you were a kid.”
“I like Megan,” James said. It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t like her any less than any other girl. James grinned. “And she doesn’t act silly around you, which is nice for a change. I don’t know what they all see in your ugly mug.”
Ryan was supposed to grin and fall back into their usual, easy banter.
But Ryan didn’t. His expression didn’t change. “You deserve better than an arranged marriage to a girl you ‘like.’”
“My parents’ marriage was arranged by my grandparents, too.”
Ryan chuckled harshly. “I wouldn’t exactly call your parents’ marriage happy.”
James glared at him.
Ryan’s eyes softened. “Sorry,” he said, squeezing James’s nape lightly. “It was a low blow.”
James looked down at the table. “They used to be happy.” Okay, maybe that was a stretch. “At least I remember them getting along when I was a kid. But then something happened. I don’t know what. But my point is, the arranged marriage isn’t the reason they are like that now. I like Megan well enough. Don’t you like her?”
Making a frustrated noise, Ryan tapped James’s neck, another silent order to look at him, and James did.
Ryan said, “You know I hate that Arthur is pressuring you into this—it’s none of his business when and who you marry—but you sure as hell don’t need my approval, either. You shouldn’t give a shit about it as long as you want her. Arthur’s opinion doesn’t matter, but neither does mine.”