Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
She looked up, smile in place, and the first thing she saw was Nik and his fiancée staring back at her from across the room.
Daria blinked several times. The vision didn’t waver, didn’t change, but her heartbeat did, racing, skipping—-
Up, down, up, down—-
It was really Nik. It was really Miranda. And, Daria thought dazedly, she was really screwed.
She halted midway, unwilling to come any closer. If she did, she had a feeling she would probably expire out of sheer distress.
Despite her state of misery and shock, she couldn’t help observing painfully how the two of them looked good together. The couple had immediately come to their feet the moment she entered. Nik looked dashingly handsome in his black suit, his dark eyes cold and his expression aloof. Beside him, Miranda, in her white lace dress and matching shoes, was still perfectly small, perfectly blond, and perfectly feminine.
Daria wanted to hate her, but she tried not to because only bitches hated other women for being perfect. She might be a flirt, but she at least drew the line at being a bitch.
“Ms. Everest, thank you for coming,” Miranda said in a perfectly pleasant voice.
She could listen to that voice forever, Daria thought. Everything about Miranda was just so perfect. It almost gave her a perverse and obsessive kind of pleasure, counting the number of ways she came up short when compared to the other woman.
As Miranda spoke, she closed the distance between them, Nik following shortly behind. Daria tried hard not to stare at Nik the whole time.
Miranda offered her hand, and Daria forced herself to take it. She also made an effort not to crush the other woman’s doll-like fingers. God, those fingers were so thin and tiny. Surely it was impossible those fingers had muscles and real flesh like hers?
When Miranda stepped back, Daria saw her side brush against Nik, and the rollercoaster that carried her heart took a nosedive at the sight.
Her gaze flew up to the ceiling. Don’t cry. You shouldn’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry.
But when she looked back at the couple, Daria was startled to notice that a good half-foot separated them. Her gaze flickered towards Miranda’s, and that was when she saw the faint apology in the other woman’s blue eyes. I’m sorry that hurt you. We didn’t mean to.
How perfectly, graciously forgiving of Miranda. Daria wanted to kill herself on the spot after it.
“I know you’re surprised to see us.” Miranda’s voice was filled with remorse. “I’m sorry about the little bit of subterfuge I had to use to get you to come here.”
Daria was determined to be as gracious as the other woman was. So she said, “Are you, really?” Her mouth snapped shut. Shit. So much for gracious.
But Miranda didn’t seem bothered by her childish comeback. She only said with quiet dignity, “I know how it looks like, and I’m sorry.”
And with that, Daria thought miserably, Miranda had proved who the bitch between the two of them was.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about that time in Teleios, and one day, I just realized I couldn’t live with myself anymore until I made everything right with you.”
Miranda squared her dainty shoulders and looked at Daria. “Firstly, I’d like to apologize to you, for everything that I said which had hurt you.”
Daria knew she should officially accept the apology, but she just couldn’t. The three of them knew if anyone was supposed to say sorry, it should be her. But she just couldn’t make herself do that either.
When it was clear Daria wouldn’t speak, Miranda hesitated a moment before continuing, “I know things like this sometimes can’t be controlled.”
Things like this? A perfect understatement, Daria thought, to describe what she had with Nik...and lost.
“I just hope that one day, you can find with another man what I have with Nik.”
So, so perfect. How crazy, how stupid, how hopeless was it that Daria could find it in her to admire Nik’s fiancée while her heart spiraled down into another crash?
Miranda belonged to Nik, and Nik belonged to Miranda, and the other woman had been able to get the message across without being bitchy.
Again, Miranda politely waited for her to speak. Again, Daria ungraciously refused.
Finally, Miranda said, “I also thought – and I’m offering this as an olive branch of sorts – perhaps you would like to be one of the stylists for our wedding?”
Daria’s jaw dropped.
A polite, questioning smile formed on Miranda’s lips.
This time, she had to speak. “Excuse me?”
“I’d like to ask if you could join the design team for my wedding.” Miranda raised a hand when Daria opened her mouth to say ‘hell no, over my dead body.’
“Please hear me out first. I’ve talked about this with Nik, and he understands my decision. He supports it.”
Daria saw Miranda send a loving look to Nik, and she thought again, Hell no, over my dead body. Nothing in this world would make her look Nik’s way, too, and risk seeing him return that look with one of his own.