Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
A gilded hall sprawls before me, and sweeping staircases lead down to an adjoining ballroom decked out with a decadent feast and a dance floor where elegantly dressed guests glide to the soft melody of a violinist.
I'm tempted to glimpse myself in a mirror that ascends two floors. Is my messy bun too . . . messy?
I should’ve worn the heels.
Servers move about like ghosts with trays of champagne. Unfamiliar eyes snap in my direction. I’m stopped at the top of the stairs and asked my name. After a moment, I hear it echo across the room in a widely broadcast announcement.
On the ground floor, I decline the offer of a drink, too unnerved to appreciate it. I'm determined not to let the stares of leering guests get under my skin until I realize their shifting gazes are flitting from me toward another person.
Outside on the balcony is a brunette with Victor.
Give them space, Lux. Grab a bite to eat.
Attempting to trust him, I start to turn away when her face crumples as she softly palms his jaw.
Why does this appear to be a lover’s spat?
In a trance, I step toward the balcony. Two guards in velvety red suits and a coat of arms on their breast converge on me. Soundless, they block the archway that separates the balcony from the palace. Their extremely abrupt movements cause me to backpedal. I must save my tiny toes.
“Excuse me!” I silently gasp.
One guy’s stare never changes. The other’s glower falls over my skin like hot tar, the left side of his mouth twisted in a growl-smile.
Two other guards flank my sides, appearing out of thin air. One takes my arm.
“Do not touch me,” I hiss beneath my breath. I try to turn around and get half a glimpse, but the other two are still blocking the patio. Each of the guests subtly glances at me.
“Hello, young lady.” Princess Mary stops in front of me. The guards unhand me.
Alright, Luxury, time to initiate kill ‘em with kindness 2.0. “I’m so sorry about―”
The taller woman’s body becomes a weapon, same as the guards. She steps close enough so that I choke on her sweet perfume. With a sneer, Princess Mary hisses, “I hope it registered within your psyche who you saw. The woman on the balcony with my son is Madeleine Elliott, the future Duchess of Arlington. If that doesn’t penetrate, my son’s fiancée.”
“Your . . . son’s . . . fiancée?” My scant voice utters foreign words.
“Are you ignorant as well?”
The ass-kissing smile, for the sake of bonding with my man’s mother, wavers, only to crash and burn. It’s safe to say that I was the bigger person for a while.
“Honestly, I’m a bit confused.” I rub my chin. “Your son has behaved himself in a way that would imply he is very single, or rather, very much infatuated with the other woman. Damn, I do not like the sound of that, calling myself the other woman. Nevertheless, I digress. If he’s engaged, he’s done an excellent job of covering it up. Someone had to have trained him in the art of cheating, scheming.” He’s friggen dead once I get my hands on him.
“Scheming, really? I’ll take credit for that.” With the flick of Princess Mary’s wrist, the guards grip my arms again to escort me out.
As the guards remove me from the ballroom, a voice heralds the arrival of the Duke of Somerhaven to a round of applause. Whoever he is, I’m saved from further embarrassment while every eye has turned in the direction of the stairs.
“Don't touch me!” My body trembles in contained acrimony as one of the guards lets me go to open a set of doors. I wrench my arm away from the other, stepping inside a room that has thick velvet drapes and wooden furniture. Too angry to sit at the posh desk, I lean against the antique table and wait.
The kill-em-with-kindness motto made me look like a fool, but I’ll be damned if Victor Tudor isn’t dead once I get my hands around his neck.
Minutes later, Victor enters the room, each step a commandment. He slams the door. My defenses are up; my heart is torn down. The look in his eyes could kill me. Heck, it’s so powerful that I should be taking my last breath as we stand here now. But the trivial survival instincts that I have are carried away in a hurricane of jealousy.
19
Luxury
“That woman is your fiancée?” My top lip curls upward into a snarl.
“You are mistaken.” A muscle in his jaw flinches. “Maddy isn't my fiancée, Little—”
“Maddy? Maddy?” I shout. “You're getting married. I’m leaving now.”
“Lower your voice. Then we will talk.”
“If this were a year ago, maybe two, I wouldn’t even have to lower my voice. I would’ve scurried away in the dark of night, too shy to speak up for myself. You. Are. Engaged. I’m done.”