Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“I’m not getting married, especially for money.”
“Odette, we need the money,” she reminded me. “You especially. Over the last year, you’ve tried to manage with just the money you were making off your music. How is that working out? How much do you have left?”
I looked away. “It’s not my fault, and you are not helping, Miss I-need-a-personal-driver. I’m perfectly fine selling off—”
“You’d rather sell off everything your father gave you than get married and get the money he wants you to have? We have bills and debts we need to pay.” When she put it like that, it sounded bad.
“You make it sound so easy! Like I’m just supposed to pick some random guy and get married to them for a year. Who would I even marry?”
“I found someone,” she whispered sheepishly.
What? “You found someone?” I repeated in disbelief. “What did you do? Go to a grocery store of eligible bachelors or something?”
“No, of course not. But if a place like that existed, it would be helpful.”
I shook my head and ate. “I’m not taking you seriously. You. Dad. Nope. I refuse to be made crazy today.”
“Odette, hear me out.”
“No need. I get it now. You knew about the second will, and you had some trust-fund brat waiting in the wings. That’s why you weren’t angry. Got it. Not happening,” I told her comfortably, already reaching for the remote control.
“Winter is coming early this year. Grab your—”
She grabbed the remote, turning it right back off. “He’s not a trust-fund brat, per se.”
“Don’t care, not interested,” I replied, taking the control back and flipping to the movies. “Do you want to watch The Notebook or If Beale Street Could Talk?”
“Fine, if you don’t want to be the princess of Ersovia, I can’t force you.” She huffed.
“The what of where?” I stared at her, my mouth agape, and of course, she was only pretending to be uninterested as she ate.
But the smug grin on her face couldn’t help but break out as she whipped back to me. A smile broke out widely across her face. “Anyone can get a trust-fund brat. Your mother, however, got you a prince.” She grinned, shaking with excitement.
“I’m leaning more toward If Beale Street Could Talk,” I replied, turning back to the television.
“Odette, didn’t you hear me? A prince! He’s Prince Galahad Fitzhugh Cornelius Edgar of Ersovia!”
“Good for him. I don’t care,” I said, pressing play.
“You would be a princess! Not just some wife of a trust fund or rich kid—”
“A prince is actually worse. Why the hell would I want to be a princess?” Did she not see or read all the historical reasons why that seemed like hell? Even if I didn’t have bills and debts to pay, that didn’t seem worth it.
She groaned and held out her hands to me as if she wanted to strangle me. “If not for your face, I would wonder if you were my daughter!”
“Shh...the movie is starting.” I held my finger to my lips.
Instead of getting the hint, she held her phone to my face. There was a picture of a very handsome man with curly bronze hair, a square jaw, broad shoulders, and blue eyes. I could tell he was tall, too. He looked like the type of man who collected pieces of the hearts he broke as souvenirs.
“I can’t see the movie, Mom.”
“I’ve already signed an agreement with them.”
“You did what?” I yelled. “Without talking to me? It’s about me!”
“I knew you would say no!”
“Of course, I would say no!”
“We need the money!”
“So? It’s my life. If you have contacted them about me once, you can do it again to tell them I said no to the agreement.”
“No.”
My head shot to her. “What do you mean, no? You can’t say no.”
“As your mother, I can. I am going to put my heart and soul into this for your own good! So that if it fails, you will have to bury me!” she snapped, rising to her feet.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re a little late putting down your foot, Mom. My answer is no, and it’s not changing.”
“Not if the ‘Queen of Stubborn,’ the ‘Miss Universe of Stubborn,’ has anything to say about it!” she called back as she headed upstairs.
Great, I thought when she disappeared from sight. My mother never missed a chance to have the last word.
A prince? Really? Where did she get these ideas from? Me, a princess? As if.
And where the hell is Ersovia?
“No, don’t even think about it. That’s what she wants,” I muttered to myself. I wasn’t going to think about it. I wasn’t even going to remember his face.
Though...he was cute.
Chapter 4
“Do you feel better?” she asked, kissing my shoulder.
“Yes,” I whispered, leaning back onto the pillows as her fingers brushed my chest.
“I am not just talking about physically,” she replied.