Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Chapel Falls knew me as the girl who spent her days upcycling Daddy’s money into luxury bags, frequenting fancy restaurants, and hunting down every decent novel in the Bible Belt.
It was a well-known fact that I possessed no worthy aspirations. But the gossip hadn’t gotten it all right.
I had one secret desire.
A clandestine wish that, unfortunately, demanded a man to fulfill.
More than anything, I wanted to be a mother.
It seemed so simple. So attainable. And yet, there were important steps required for such a goal, none of which I’d ever come close to achieving in stuffy Chapel Falls.
“You’re very candid.”
He didn’t say it like it was a good thing.
“You’re very curious.” I let him dip me, even when it brought us closer. “What do you like?” I asked after a beat, because it was the polite thing to do.
“Few things.” He spun us in swift circles, right past a slack-jawed Savannah. “Money. Power. War.”
“War?” I choked out.
“War,” he confirmed. “It’s a lucrative business. A steady one, too. There’s always a war going on in the world or countries gearing up for it. It’s extraordinary.”
“For the politicians, maybe. Not for the people suffering. The children soiling their beds from fear. The casualties, the families, the pain-stricken—”
“Are you always this taxing, or did you save this beauty-pageant speech especially for me?”
After being rendered speechless by his assholery, I answered, “All for you. Hope that makes you feel special.”
He snapped his gum.
So gentlemanly.
Not.
“Meet me in the rose garden in ten minutes.”
Everyone knew what happened in the rose garden.
I pursed my lips.
Was he not here for the last five minutes?
“I just told you I’m engaged to be married.”
“You aren’t married just yet.” He dipped me again while correcting the sequence of the sentence. Show off. “This is your last hurrah before you tie the knot. Your moment of weakness before it’s too late to try something new.”
“But…I don’t like you.”
“You don’t need to like me to let me make you feel good.”
Rearing my head back, I glared at him, my pupils running wild in their sockets. “What are you offering, exactly?”
“A reprieve from this mind-numbing event.”
Another spin.
More whiplash.
Or maybe it was from this conversation.
He kept his voice low and even. “Full discretion guaranteed. Ten minutes. I’ll bring the shortbread and champagne. All you need to bring is yourself. Actually…” He paused, giving me a onceover. “I wouldn’t mind if you left your personality at the table.”
With that, he broke off from me mid-dance, setting me down on the floor.
My mind reeled as I watched his back while he sauntered away. I didn’t understand what had just happened.
Had he offered me a hookup?
He seemed appalled by our conversation. But maybe that was just his default setting. Glacial, reserved, and offhanded.
Part of me reasoned I should take what he’d offered. Not go all the way, of course. I was saving my virginity. But a few fumbles in the dark wouldn’t hurt.
Not like Madison sat at home, working on our couple’s scrapbook.
I knew for a fact he went out all over D.C., enjoying brief affairs with models and socialites. My friend Hayleigh lived across the hall from him and told me about the women coming in and out of his condo.
I mean, we weren’t even together-together. We spoke on the phone once a month to “get to know each other,” per our parents’ request, but that was it.
A man like Romeo Costa was a once-in-a-lifetime event.
I should take advantage of it.
Of him.
And maybe he could teach me a few tricks. Something to impress Madison with.
Besides…shortbread.
As soon as Daddy turned to speak with Mr. Goldberg, I dashed toward the restroom. I white-knuckled the edge of the gold-specked limestone sink, blinking into the mirror.
It’s just a few kisses.
You’ve done this before with plenty of boys.
He was so new, so mature, so sophisticated, I didn’t even care that he was downright mean. Let’s get real here—Mr. Darcy wasn’t exactly swoon-worthy until the last twenty percent of the book.
“Nothing bad will happen,” I assured my reflection. “Nothing.”
Behind me, a toilet flushed.
Emilie escaped a booth, frowning as she settled beside me to wash her hands.
“Did you smoke the same thing that waiter gave your sister?” The back of her soapy hand rose to my forehead. “You’re talking to yourself.”
I dodged her touch. “Hey, Em, did you meet Romeo Costa?”
She shook her head, pouting. “He and von Bismarck are the main attractions. Always surrounded by herds of people. I couldn’t even get a picture of the guy. I saw you dancing with him. So lucky. I’d kill for the opportunity.”
A breathless, reckless laugh escaped me.
I shook my head.
“Where are you going?” she called after me.
To do something wild.
That this could be a mistake didn’t once occur to me as I waited, perched on the stone bench behind the rose bushes.
Summer’s warm breath clung to the crisp night, humid residue weighing down roses in full bloom.