Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
I knotted my arms over my chest, ignoring everything etiquette classes taught me, per usual. “Yeah. I’d be open to that.”
He didn’t crack a smile. Didn’t even look at me. Rather, he looked straight through me. “I apologize for doubting your identity. For uninformed reasons, I thought you’d be … different.”
Normally, I’d ask who told him what, but I needed to cut my losses and run before my mouth got me into more trouble. There was a reason I kept it munching on something eighty percent of the time. Plus, I couldn’t stare directly at that man without feeling like my legs were constructed of instant pudding. I didn’t like how woozy he made me. Or how my skin flushed wherever his eyes rested.
“Hmm, sure. That’s okay. Happens to the best of us. Enjoy your evening.” With that, I beelined back to my table.
Luckily, Daddy sailed through dinner in a great mood, talking business with his friends. Barbara must not have acted on her threat to narc, because shortly after the fourth entrée, he granted me permission to dance.
And dance I did. First, with David from church. Then, James from high school. And finally, Harold from one street over. They spun me, dipped me inches from the marble floor, and even let me lead in a few waltzes. All in all, I almost restored my confidence that the evening was a success. Until Harold bowed his head when our song ended and I started for my seat. Because when I turned, Romeo Costa was there again. Like a summoned demon. About two inches from my face.
Sweet Mother Mary, why must sin always be so tempting?
“Mr. Costa.” I placed my hand over my bare collarbone. “Sorry, I’m rather dizzy and exhausted. I don’t think I can da—”
“I’ll take the lead.” He swept me up, my feet hovering over the floor, and began waltzing with me without my participation.
Hello, red flag the size of Texas.
“Kindly put me down,” I requested through pursed lips.
His hold on my waist tightened, the contour of his muscles engulfing me. “Kindly drop the lady façade. I’ve seen Olivia Wilde performances more convincing.”
Ouch. I distinctly remembered wanting to bleach my eyeballs after watching The Lazarus Effect.
“Thanks.” I loosened my muscles, forcing him to hold all my weight or render me limp on the marble. “Being a respectable member of society is honestly exhausting.”
“You came to my table for the shortbread, didn’t you?”
Perhaps any other girl would deny it through her teeth. As it happened, I liked the idea of him knowing he wasn’t the main attraction for me.
“Yes.”
“They were spectacular.”
I peeked at his table over his shoulder. “There’s still some there.”
“Very perceptive, Miss Townsend.” He twirled me with the frightening expertise of a competitive ballroom dancer. I wasn’t sure whether I was nauseous because he moved too fast or because I was in his arms. “I don’t suppose you’d also be interested in champagne to go with it? Oliver and I just attained a bottle of Cristal Brut Millénium Cuvée.”
That thing was thirteen thousand dollars a pop. Of course, I was down. I tried to match his lackluster tone. “Actually, I think a glass would be a perfect companion to the shortbread.”
His face remained impassive and still. Lord, what did it take to muster a smile out of the man?
I was faintly aware of people staring at us. It occurred to me that Mr. Costa hadn’t danced with anyone other than me. It made me uneasy. Savannah and Emilie had mentioned he wasn’t here for a match, but they’d also told me brown cows made chocolate milk when we were in preschool. They were clearly an unreliable source of information.
I cleared my throat. “There is something you should know.” He peered at me through his English winter-grays, his expression telling me there couldn’t possibly be something I knew that he didn’t. “I’m engaged to be married, so if you’re looking to get to know me—”
“Knowing you is the least of my intentions.” As he spoke, I noticed, for the first time, the tiny ball of gum crushed between his incisors. Spearmint, by the scent of it.
“Thank God.” I relaxed into the waltz. “I don’t like turning people down. It’s a pet peeve, you know?”
I didn’t love the idea of marrying Madison Licht, but I didn’t hate it, either. I’d known him all my life. As the only child of Daddy’s college roommate, he showed up during holidays and the occasional dinner party. Everything about him was adequate. Adequately attractive. Adequately rich. Adequately mannered. He did, however, tolerate my brand of quirkiness. Plus, his eight extra years gave him the shine of a worldly, experienced man. We’d gone on two dates, where he made it clear he’d let me live my life as I pleased. A rarity among arranged couples in Chapel Falls.