Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
I quickly change into a sweater and jeans before I head downstairs to my father’s office where both my parents and my brother Cillian are waiting for me. My mom closes the office doors behind me when I enter.
“You’ve picked someone,” I say when I enter, wanting to get it over with.
My dad stands from his desk and comes around the front to lean on it. My brother is in his normal suit stretched out on the sofa, but I can tell he’s pissed. More so than normal.
“Prince Felipe of Andora,” my mom blurts out before my dad can say it.
“No!” I hiss, and my heart has this funny flutter. It’s not the same as it was when I saw Felipe in pictures before. Now there is an ache to it.
“He’s not worthy of her,” my brother grumbles.
“You’ve been in love with him since you were a little girl,” my mom tries to reason. She doesn’t like when any of us are upset.
“Yes, I was a silly girl.” I fight back tears, not wanting to act like a child. I’ve spent the last two years trying to prove to them I’m an adult now.
“You should know better than to believe what you read in the tabloids, Amelia,” my dad says gently.
“Where there's smoke there’s fire.” My brother is quick to come to my defense. He always has been.
“Have your mother and I ever steered you two wrong?” Dad pushes off the desk, making his way over to Mom.
He can never go long without touching her if they’re in the same room. He’s always seeking her out. Their love is something I’ve dreamed of having, and it’s why at one time I’d been so open to the idea of an arranged marriage.
“No,” I admit, but Cillian only glowers from his seat. I think he’s met Felipe because he hates the idea of me marrying him too.
“Then this is settled,” my dad says, and I nod before I turn and walk from the office as calmly as I can. I need to leave before I say or do something I can’t take back.
It’s bullshit. My soon-to-be husband is out there doing god knows what with whoever he wants. He’ll likely have mistresses before the ink on our wedding decree is dry. It’s so hard to fathom that my parents think this will be a good match for me.
When I enter my room, I walk over to the dress I picked out for the upcoming event. My whole life I’ve always done what was expected of me and never broken one rule. I’ve been the perfect daughter. At times people even called me “The Ice Princess” for it.
I run my fingers down the soft material. I think it’s time to have a little fun of my own for once. It’s my turn to break a few rules.
Chapter Two
Felipe
“So it’s done?” I stand from the chair in my father’s office as he nods.
“Her father and I made the agreement, and your mother has given her blessing.” He goes back to writing on a paper in front of him and then he hands it to me. “This is what they offered as her dowry.”
“I don’t want it,” I say without even glancing at the paper.
“It’s a substantial amount for their limited resources.” He continues to hold up the paper, and I wave it away.
“Tell them I’ve declined. If she’s to be my wife, I’m responsible for her well-being, and that includes her finances. If they insist, place it in a trust for her or her younger sister. I’m sure they’ll need it when it’s her time.”
“That’s noble of you,” my father says as he places the paper on his desk.
“Careful, Father, or someone might hear you.” I walk over to the mirror nearby and straighten my suit jacket.
“Why must you let everyone believe the worst in you?” He sighs like he’s so tired of my shit.
“Because it makes it easier to sort out the ones who are only around me for the opportunity my wealth affords them.”
He doesn’t disagree as I turn to face him. “Then explain something to me.”
I wait without saying a word because I know the question he’s going to ask. He’s already asked it a dozen times.
“Why her?” He waves his hand to a stack of envelopes at the corner of his desk. “You’ve had offers from two dozen fathers practically begging you to take their daughters off their hands.”
“I have my reasons” is all I say while I fiddle with my cufflink.
“Are you staying for lunch?” my mother asks, stepping into my father’s office. She doesn't look at him, and he doesn’t acknowledge her.
“No, I can’t stay. Give my best to Glenda.”
“Your sister’s been asking for you all week.”
My mother is trying to guilt me into staying for lunch, but the last thing I want to do is sit in that giant dining room with my parents in complete silence while they take turns asking me questions they don’t want the answers to.