Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
I knew precisely who was messaging me and why. I had time to get in a cab and make it to dinner. If I left now, I wouldn’t even be late. And still, I paced back the other direction.
A muscle fluttered in my jaw as I heard my phone go off one more time. I froze, forcing my body to stop its incessant movement. Then the phone started ringing. I grumbled and wrenched it off of the counter.
“What?” I snapped.
“Happy anniversary to you, too, darling,” Camden said silkily on the other line.
A facade. He didn’t care about our anniversary.
“Why do you keep messaging me?” I asked him irritably.
“There’s time for me to pick you up in the limo.”
“I already said that I’d take a cab.”
He said nothing, didn’t even sigh, gave not the slightest bit of notice that he was frustrated with my attitude.
Today was the one-year anniversary of our arranged marriage. I couldn’t act like it was anything else even if he could.
“I don’t see the need,” he finally said.
“I will meet you at the restaurant.”
“You will be there, correct?” His voice was low and guttural as if it irked him that he even had to ask.
“I just said that I would.”
Though I had thought of every available excuse to get out of it, including sneaking onto Lark’s private jet and heading down to the Caribbean a few days early. But I knew none of them would pass muster. Camden would just meet me at the resort and be furious with me. And I knew what would happen from there. What always happened when his temper flared.
Heat ran up my throat, and I touched my fingers to it.
“I’ll be there,” I said a little breathlessly.
“Good. Don’t be late,” he growled before hanging up.
“Fucker,” I snapped back at him.
I wouldn’t be late, but fuck, did I want to. No, I didn’t want to go at all. I knew what this whole fucking pretense was about. Why he’d scheduled this dinner and forced me to stay behind while my friends darted off to sun and sand and frozen drinks with little umbrellas.
One year ago, I’d agreed to be his wife.
This year, he wanted everything else I’d signed away.
Time for me to live up to my end of the bargain.
I released a breath and forced my face back to neutral. This wasn’t who I was. I showed no fear. I was Katherine Van Pelt. Sexy, fierce, and formidable. Not even the likes of Camden Percy could make me waver.
It was just dinner.
A stupid fucking dinner.
It didn’t mean that I had to give in to his demands. I never gave in. Well… not anymore. There had been a moment—barely even a moment, if I was honest—when I thought that this marriage could work. I’d gone to the Maldives for our honeymoon, thinking it would be the worst month of my life. We’d come back, changed.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about the past. A few months where we hadn’t wanted to kill each other didn’t mean that this was going to work as a marriage. Not how I’d thought in those days. No, this had been arranged. We had the contract and prenup to prove it. No point in thinking about what could have been. Not with the present circumstances.
Which meant that I was going to this dinner as a formality. A courtesy really.
Camden Percy didn’t care about me. Not more than anything else he’d purchased with his billion-dollar fortune. I wouldn’t forget it again.
I stuffed my phone into my black patent leather Hermès bag, double-checked my ruby-red lipstick, and headed for the door. With my armor in place, I left my apartment, ready to handle myself in this shitshow. Just like everything always was with Camden.
Traffic was a nightmare. Thank god I wasn’t stuck in Camden’s limo. Though I didn’t much prefer the taxi either. My foot tapped impatiently on the floor of the cab as I texted with Lark.
Miss you already!
Below that message was a picture of Lark, English, and Whitley in bikinis, doing shots poolside. Bitches.
Stop having fun without me!
Enjoy your anniversary dinner. We’ll see you soon.
Soon. But not soon enough. Not only did I have to endure this dinner, but I’d also already agreed to do Christmas Eve dinner with Camden’s family. I couldn’t think of something that I liked less, but Camden had insisted. So, I was going.
Finally, the cab pulled up in front of the building. Prime was located on the thirty-fifth floor with impeccable views of Manhattan and the most expensive steak in the city. Camden had taken me here on our first “date.” The rich interior and three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine hadn’t convinced me that this wasn’t a business deal any more than it would today. I was just a new sort of client for him. A new challenge.