Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Okay, so far we’ve managed to sell the fact that I’m Mya’s cousin. I moved to town and you and I met one night when Mya brought me to the clubhouse. We didn’t speak other than to say hello but then one night you saw me in town—”
“Where?”
I think for a moment. “Walking out of a restaurant—”
“The Jolly Roger Tavern.”
I nod. “Perfect. Then we got talking—”
“And you couldn’t help but flirt with me.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “Hardly. It was you who made the first move.”
Finished with his boots, he turns his big body to face me. “No one will believe that.”
“But they’ll believe I couldn’t help myself but fall at your feet because of your charm?”
“Yes.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not that charming.”
He sighs. “Can we move on?”
“Fine, we got talking and a mutual attraction developed over time.”
“How?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“How did our attraction develop? Did we meet at your place? They’ve never seen you before. And you’ve only been to the clubhouse that one imaginary time.”
Right. “We’ll tell everyone we used to meet at my place because we wanted our privacy.” I pause, remembering the rumors about him having a secret affair in town. “I have a question…”
He barely contains his eye roll. “Of course you do. What about?”
“The mysterious girl you’ve been leaving the clubhouse to visit late at night. What happened to her? Why isn’t she here instead of me?”
His demeanor changes. Just slightly.
“She never existed. It’s just rumor.”
“But they say you were disappearing every night to spend time with a woman.”
“They were wrong.”
“If it wasn’t a woman, then where were you going?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Well, color me fussy but I do prefer to know a little bit about the man I am meant to marry.”
“It’s none of your concern.” He stands and gestures to the TV. “Put on whatever you want. I’m going to take a shower.”
And just like that, I’m dismissed.
Beast disappears into the bathroom connected to his room, and I wait until I hear the sound of the shower going before climbing off the bed and checking the door. I’m not going to escape. Beast has ensured my compliance by taking care of my uncle. But there’s still that deeply ingrained need to know I’m not locked in that makes me cross the room to check.
I rattle the door handle and my relief is instant when I see it isn’t locked.
I pause, wondering if Beast is testing me. If any moment he’ll appear in the doorway with a scowl on his face ready to throw me over his shoulder again. But the shower is going and I can hear the changing rhythm of the water as it rains down on his body.
I cast a glance around the room, and my gaze settles on his cut hanging over the back of the chair.
I cross the room and pick it up. The leather is well worn and scuffed in some places, the zipper tarnished by age. I bring it to my face and it smells like leather and time. And him. It’s surprisingly soft but heavy, and the interior is lined with a rich red fabric.
I study the patches on the front. The Chaos and Mayhem logo on the left breast. The President patch on the right. I run my finger over the word president and the enormity of who I am marrying hits me. This man is the king of this castle and I am going to be his queen. His old lady.
Suddenly it doesn’t seem right that he’s wasting it on me. He deserves a better queen. At least a better fake one. Even if he is a blackmailing dick. I can see his importance to the people of his club.
I think about my uncle and the care he is receiving because of this deal, and I know I have to make this work.
Deciding to do better as Beast’s fake queen, I slide the cut back over the chair but notice the heavy weight inside one of the breast pockets. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I slide my hand inside, and my fingers graze soft leather.
It’s his wallet.
I pull it out and open it, hoping to get some idea about the man I am supposed to marry.
Inside is his driver’s license, which tells me his name is Adam and he’s thirty-one years old. Eighteen months older than me. And his last name is Vale. Which means I will be Mrs. Vale.
I whisper his name.
Adam Vale.
My equilibrium tilts on its axis and I feel a little light headed. I close my eyes and wait for it to pass. I’m not used to alcohol and the shots of Wildfire are obviously fucking with me.
Shaking it off, I return my attention to the contents of his wallet.