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)
I square my shoulders, whispering to them, “Mary muzzled me before. She won’t—”
Vomit climbs up my throat. Friggen great. I’ve finally grown a backbone but end up scurrying away, heading for the nearest bathroom to throw up for the third time today.
48
Victor
Luxury stayed through the fucking chaos of our relationship. Ideally, our torrid encounter should’ve been a learning curve for the chit, lessons to carry into her next relationship with the next bloke.
For months, I’ve put Luxury Whitson through hell.
I left her at a disadvantage.
I partook in every morsel of my fucking cake.
Sure, I worshipped her body while molding and ruining her, but my lovely Little One unlocked the part of me I swore would remain vacant till the end of time. She unleashed dormant emotions that I harbored of Emeli and my precious Jude.
She helped me release the guilt. I wasn’t there like I should’ve been. But I gave my word to Luxury that I’d reconcile any tears that I caused her.
Therefore, I saw the bloody silver lining in Mum’s conniving tactics. My calculating mother had planned a party, and I’d use said event to my advantage. Tell everyone, the princess included, of my affections for Lux. I kept my eye on the entrance. I’d told Burt to forewarn me the precise second Luxury entered the ballroom if I didn’t see her first. I had an announcement of my own to confer upon my bloody duchy the second my eyes landed on hers. Then that wanka, Lake Russell, was at her side, most certainly flirting. But did I care? No.
Now, I’ve rounded, retracing my steps back to Princess Mary as she mentions my father. Although still in a binding marriage, they’ve not acknowledged each other in ages.
I take another glance over my shoulder and tell myself not to breathe easy yet, although Grandmother Sarah has approached Luxury and Lake.
I sidestep couples, tap shoulders, and firmly shove others, gritting out, “Mum, Mother!” Give me your fucking attention, woman.
I stop dead in my tracks the second Princess Mary reveals her true motive. She beckons me like a fucking mangy mutt, heralding. “Vicky, come, come, son. Come formally introduce your duchy to their future duchess!”
Madeline emerges from the throng, edging toward Mary from the opposite direction. When did this cunt arrive?
I look toward Luxury and Lake, only to see a glimpse of her running through the double doors. With a greasy smile, Lake lifts his shoulder.
You will regret that.
As my horrible mother apologizes for spilling the beans, I reach Madeline’s side, and she whispers, “Will you choke your loving wife, now?”
Mother has looped an arm around Madeline, still marveling at the sound of her own voice. She’s held out her other arm in an attempt to get me to come to her.
“Not at all. I’m the sort of bloke who targets when you least expect it,” I grit out.
“That sounds ominous. Look, I just got here too. Your mother single-handedly orchestrated this stunt,” Madeline mutters quickly as Mum draws to a close. “I’m just along for the ride.”
“Save it.”
“Alright, who would like to witness my son and his fiancée kiss?” The arm that looped lovingly around Madeline’s shoulder skims down to her hand. Princess Mary sweeps around until she’s between the two of us to take my hand like a fucking rugrat. I remove her touch from my person. My quiet voice rises until my tumultuous words vibrate against the walls and ceiling. “It’s a little too late for affection, Mum.”
“Lower your—”
“You have all been sorely misled. Madeline Elliot and I are not engaged. We will never, ever marry. Furthermore, had this artifice not occurred in my very own duchy, I would not be standing before you at this very moment. I would, in fact, have already run after the woman I love.”
A collective hitch discharges across the room.
I let oxygen pour into my lungs. Bloody fuck, I’m in love.
Grabbing a tuft of my hair, I soldier through. “People of Arlington, I am a man in love. And quite frankly, a wanker for not telling the one I love before declaring it to a crowd of cunts.”
Another hitch, this one louder.
“Not all of you have incurred my wrath.” I place my hands into my pockets. “Only the prejudiced among you that have judged my woman, Luxury Whitson, or those who allow such travesties and hearsays from others. If yes, then you are a smutty cunt. Nonetheless, I’ve only loved and held esteem for a select few people in my life. As you all know, two are deceased.”
The subtle mention of Emeli and Jude scores a speck of sympathy, softening a few sneers, although I do not care. “Grandmother, I love you.”
Sarah places both hands to her lips, smooches, and tosses her arms in delight.
“Obviously, I love my other grandmummy, the Queen. My brother, Graham, who has a knack for skedaddling at the faintest sign of confrontation. He’s not here tonight. Burt the Butler. Where are you, old chap?”