Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Why did she mime it if she was just going to say it?!
“I would’ve slid you in on my arm.” Katie pushed Jack off me. “Beat it, hairy balls. She’s young enough to be your daughter.”
Jack sputtered. “I beg your pardon.”
“I am his daughter,” I cried. “His stepdaughter.”
“No shit? But— Hold on, you’re Jack Bowden, aren’t you? That means...” Katie’s pre-programmed snobby smirk melted away as she beheld me with an expression I saw on her for the first time. “Sinclair.”
My chest panged. Not letting myself think of the connection she just made, I reclaimed Jack’s elbow, raising my chin as I faced the double doors. “Enjoy the party, Katie.”
Together, the two of us continued on, passing by two butlers into one of the grandest homes in Regalia, fitting for one of its richest families.
My heels click-clacked on the marble floors, sounding in the cavernous white, blue, and silver space. Easy to hear as the music muted, signaling the start of something. A double staircase looped around and met at the top under a six-foot-wide crystal chandelier. People gathered near and beneath it, sipping champagne and trading pointless conversation. I looked at them with sharper eyes, picking out the Royals among us.
Releasing Jack’s arm, I climbed the staircase, meeting the lone figure waiting at the top.
“You’re late,” he hissed.
“No, I’m not. I can’t be late to my own party.”
Cutting off a curse, Victor Wilson wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Just smile. Look like you’re happy to be here.”
The MC cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming. It’s my honor to present to you for the first time since their engagement, Victor Wilson and Luna Sinclair. Join me in congratulating the couple and wishing them a long and happy marriage.”
Cheers, applause, and whoops battered our ears. My fiancé and I cheesed till our faces hurt. I hoped our audience bought it, because we weren’t fooling each other.
Chapter Two
Victor and I moved through the crowd, leading the way to the ballroom. The transformation was extraordinary. His mother spared no expense hosting the engagement party for her beloved son. Actually, I couldn’t say if the pink rose centerpieces, votive candles, expensive spread, and our names spelled out in cupcakes were for Victor. It certainly wasn’t for me since Martha didn’t ask for my opinion on a thing.
For my contribution, Victor’s mother put me through three rehearsals. Though she praised my getting a “proper” education at Catholic school, for some reason that didn’t instill her with enough faith that I could remember the order of events, how to dance without stepping on Victor’s toes, or how to eat with my mouth closed.
He swept me onto the dance floor—one hand holding mine and the other placed on the small of my back. We looked into each other’s eyes as we waited for the music to start.
Victor Wilson was the opposite of me in almost every way. I was born to a single mom who cleaned houses like this to support me and my sister. He was born slurping from the silver spoons she polished. Victor’s record was spotless. He never sank a yacht, got shipped off to boarding school, or so much as collected a speeding ticket. Victor Wilson was gifted by looks and talent.
His reddish-brown hair flashed amber when it caught the light. That was nothing compared to the effect of his mercury-gray eyes, seeing straight to your pounding heart whenever he smiled at you. If that wasn’t enough, the man was an animal on the rugby field. Watching him play caused swooning in the stands—if you were into empty-headed jocks who can’t hold a conversation or even look up from their phones long enough to have one. Or if they were into you.
“Don’t step on my feet,” Victor said as the music filtered out of the speakers.
“I’m not going to step on your fucking feet. I know how to dance—unlike someone who almost broke my back in half dipping me.”
“If you weren’t so stiff.”
“If you weren’t so rough!”
His cheeks twitched trying to hold his smile. “I’m not rough.”
“You’re a roided-up jock with meat hooks for hands. You’d break the bones in my face just trying to stroke my cheek.”
“Like I would put my hands that close to your mouth. You’re liable to bite them off, man-eating shrew.”
“Oooh,” I crowed. “Liable and shrew? Did Mommy hire another tutor to help you learn the big-boy words?”
“Did Stepdaddy marry you off to keep the big boys out of your pants?”
Victor whipped me around, lifting me off my feet. We smiled wider for the privileged mob cooing at us.
“You’re one to talk. How many girls here have you slept with? And their mothers?”
Scoffing, Victor dipped me. “You shouldn’t listen to rumors, Bowden. Then again, that’s all you got since you’re not one of us. What else do you have other than whispered scraps from people who didn’t know you were in the room?”