Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Are you saying I need to smile when you’re around?”
“That wouldn’t hurt.”
“How’s this?” I give him an absolutely atrocious grimace. “This look good?”
“Beautiful. Like you’re actively dying of dysentery.”
I laugh, unable to help myself. “That’s horrible.”
“You’re the one making the face.” He sits back, smiling to himself, as the car pulls up outside of a hotel.
“I thought we were getting married,” I say squinting at the massive resort building. “Where’s the church?”
“This is the church,” he says, climbing out. I hurry to keep up. “This is the church of money. What else is this place but a flow of capital and investment? People come, they gamble, they go home. What a beautiful world. The universe is just random enough to make this enjoyable.”
“Are you getting philosophical or something?”
“No, not at all. This way, there’s a chapel upstairs.”
I follow him down a side hallway, past a security station, and up a set of stairs. We turn right and there’s a smartly dressed young woman standing outside of a pair of wooden doors. “Mr. Costa? They’re ready for you.”
“Wait,” I say as the weight of what we’re about to do settles on my chest. “Hold on a second. I don’t get some time to myself first?”
“No, we have to get back to LA. Babysitting duty, remember?” He sweeps me forward as the young woman pulls the doors open and we step into a lavish chapel space with vaulted ceilings, plush geometric-patterned rugs, champagne-gold pews, white walls, more gold detailing, and an absurd number of flowers.
The place is empty except for a priest wearing an Elvis outfit and the smartly dressed young woman.
“Elvis?” I hiss at Conlan. “Seriously?”
“I thought you’d like it.” He gives me an innocent smile. “Since this wedding isn’t real and we’re in Vegas.”
“Ladies and gentleman,” the Elvis impersonator says, really hamming it up with hand motions and a hip thrust. I think I might cry. “We are gathered here today—”
“Skip to the kiss,” Conlan says.
“No,” I cut in. “The vows.”
“Then we sign the papers and we’re out of here.” Conlan squints at me then makes a get on with it gesture.
Elvis clears his throat. He drops the fake voice. “All right, we’ll do the abbreviated ceremony. Do you, Conlan Costa, take Isabel Flax to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, through sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?”
“I do,” he says, and it feels as though the earth opens and threatens to swallow me whole.
Elvis turns in my direction. His eyes are light brown and strangely kind.
Can I really go through with this? Can I marry Conlan Costa, my boss, the bane of my existence, the most frustrating man I’ve ever met?
But he already said the words, and he didn’t even hesitate. It’s like he wanted to say them, like he wants to be my husband.
None of this is real. None of this is real. I have to keep telling myself that, or else I’ll faint.
“Do you, Isabel Flax—”
“I do,” I blurt out before he can finish.
He smiles at my embarrassment. “All right then. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You can do the kiss if you want.”
Conlan moves forward, putting one hand on the small of my back, the other brushing into my hair. My heart’s going crazy as I put my hands on his chest.
“Con, hold on,” I say, freaking out. “Pause a second. We don’t need to—”
But there’s no arguing away his mouth against mine.
His lips are softer than I expected. Warm and gentle as he kisses me. But something wakes inside of my core, something hot and overwhelming, and when his mouth opens and his tongue invades mine like he wants to dominate me, I don’t try to push him away. I don’t stop him.
I whimper into his mouth. I groan like I’m actually enjoying this, but how could I like it? There’s no way in hell I’ve ever want to be kissed by this man.
Only it’s by far the best kiss of my life.
The sort of kiss I thought was made up. The sort of kiss that exists in movies and in books.
The kiss sends shivers down my spine, tingles into my gut, and his taste deep into my mouth—mint, whiskey, something spicy and good.
Then it’s abruptly over and he’s pulling away.
I’m left standing there, feeling like I might pass out.
“Paperwork,” Conlan barks at the smartly dressed young woman.
Why does he seem pissed?
I start thinking I did something wrong.
Did I go too far? Was it the whimper? I couldn’t help myself—I didn’t want to make any noise, it was totally involuntary.
I don’t want to like kissing Conlan Costa. My boss and my husband.
I don’t want to like it at all.
He’s short and borderline rude as we fill out the paperwork. The smartly dressed young woman doesn’t seem to mind though, and when we’re done, she promises to get everything filed.