Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I eye Honey, her defiant chin pointed in the air. How can this be so contractual for her? Or better yet, when did I stop being the same? When did I waver when it came to Crue Monti?
Suddenly, with the responsibility in her hands, I realize I don’t feel like the older sister at all. Honey so easily takes it in her stride.
I hesitate because I find I don’t want to encourage the wedding but want no involvement in it either. I open my mouth and shut it again.
I don’t want her marrying Crue.
But I can’t have him either.
“It was only ever sex,” I tell her, my voice a lot quieter than I like to acknowledge.
“If you say so. Well, the marriage is going ahead, then. And I expect you to be my maid of honor. And for you to be on your best behavior.” She points a finger at me. “Now, done with the Monti contract. Tell me all about New York.” It is like a switch that she flicked and has completely changed the subject on me.
A barrage of conflicting feelings hits me, and I don’t know why.
But right now, I feel like I’m either going to scream or cry.
CHAPTER 64
Crue
I hate her.
The way she looks in that black dress.
The way her bronze skin and caramel locks grab my attention even through the masses of people at the Ricci home.
Numerous guests have congratulated Honey and me on our engagement. My patience grows thinner with each one who offers their well wishes. I want all of these formalities to be done because I am done with this farce.
Rya arrived thirty minutes late, and I wanted to bend her over and spank her ass for being tardy as usual. It was most likely deliberate. And it pains me to drag my gaze away from her and to my fiancée, who is the perfect hostess. I have nothing against Honey. On the contrary, she will be the perfect wife. She’s pretty too.
My mother is fluttering around her and offering hand-made treats.
“You’re making it too obvious,” Dawson warns as he sits beside me. We’re sitting in the garden’s courtyard, sunset bathing the vineyard beyond and showcasing the lighter strands in Rya’s hair as she speaks with her father.
I permitted Dominic the night off to be with Angel and their newborn. It also gives him a night away from my fawning mother.
“Making what obvious?” I grit through my teeth.
“Which of the Ricci sisters you really want to fuck tonight.”
I glare at him.
“I tried to be the voice of reason once, and now look where we are.” Dawson salutes with his glass before taking a sip.
“Your stupid fucking advice didn’t work,” I spit.
He laughs. “I told you to woo Rya, give her freedom.”
“I don’t have to woo anyone.”
“That much is apparent since you’re about to be a husband to the wrong sister.”
My gaze drifts to Honey’s finger and the oversized rock she picked herself. It was the biggest they had. Not that I mind. The other ring I had—the one I picked for a particular princess—is still hidden away in my safe.
I watch as a man approaches Rya. His smile is suave, and his eyes are glued to her chest. My grip tightens on my glass of whisky.
I can’t help myself. I’m absolutely about to pull out my gun and shoot every fucking man within Rya’s vicinity.
CHAPTER 65
Rya
“Toni?” I say, surprised to see my old childhood friend. It’s different to see him fully grown. I remember having a small crush on him and inviting him to my thirteenth birthday party. We had five minutes alone, and neither of us knew what to do to fill the silence.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he replies with a thick accent. “I never thought I’d see the day the bigshot American lawyer returned to home soil.”
“Shut up.” I slap him on the shoulder. “It took me too long to come back, I know.”
“It did,” he says with a warm smile. His age shows slightly in the few wrinkles around his eyes. But that shy side of him is all the same. Different from a certain prick whose gaze I’ve felt on me all night.
“Can I get you a drink?” he offers, looking at my near-empty glass.
“That won’t be necessary,” Dawson cuts in, coming to my side and staring the poor guy down.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were, um…”
“No, it’s not what it looks like.” I point between me and Dawson.
Dawson’s stare is steadfast, and it’s the first time I realize how intimidating he can be.
“Are you shitting me right now?” I growl quietly.
“I could say the same to you.” He leans down to whisper in my ear, “Wouldn’t you rather it be me making a scene than Crue gunning down every man who’s made eye contact with your tits tonight? I’m going to have to bubble-wrap you to make sure a massacre doesn’t happen.”