Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Did he not?
“Marry me.” The words were out before he could stop himself. In front of him, his Pollyanna was giving him her patented blowfish look, and somehow that cemented his belief he was doing the only thing he could do to survive.
“Marry me,” he repeated. He didn’t love her, but no one had...succeeded in making him feel alive the way she did. He would, in return, make her the happiest girl in the world, so damn happy that she would never realize he didn’t love her.
“Kyr...are you serious?” Her voice was strangled.
He looked at Pollyanna. Eighteen years old, too young, too innocent, too kind for someone like him – she didn’t deserve to be with someone like him, but he could not let her go.
If she left for university, who the hell knew if the same thing wouldn’t happen again?
He could not lose her.
He could not.
“Marry me.”
“But there’s university—-”
“You can study here, after we marry.”
“There isn’t a university here,” she pointed out faintly.
“I’ll build you one,” he countered calmly.
“Kyr!” She choked back a nervous laugh.
He took hold of her hand and looked into her eyes, and yes, he was again using every damn trick in the book to seduce her into doing what he wanted.
“Marry me.”
PART III
Chapter One
One month after
“There’s still time to back out.” The words were spoken in a mocking undertone, but Stavros Manolis was half-serious. He, Kyr, and Damen had been friends since childhood, and one of the things that had bonded them – as well as set them apart from other wealthy families’ scions – was their pragmatic view of life.
Which was why he didn’t get this wedding at all, Stavros thought. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in love. He did. But what he didn’t understand was the need for haste.
Sure, Pollyanna Graham was a pretty little thing, and her name did fit her well. She was like a ball of sunshine, making everyone smile wherever she was. But was that enough reason for marriage? And after only knowing Pollyanna for barely two months?
Stavros’ skepticism did not go unnoticed. Adjusting his bowtie in front of the full-length mirror, Kyr caught sight of his best man’s reflection and knew right away what his friend was thinking. Dismissing the attendants fussing around them, he waited until he was alone before saying, “Do your job, will you, Manolis?”
“I am. I’ve got the escape car ready, in case you change your mind,” Stavros deadpanned.
Kyr rolled his eyes. “I won’t change your mind, you bastard.”
And he won’t.
He won’t.
He adjusted his bowtie, the thought that he would be acquiring a wife in less than an hour suddenly creating a strangling pressure around his neck. The past few weeks streamed in his mind, none of them making him feel any better.
He remembered the day he had proposed to her, and yes, now he could see that he had been impulsive and had let his fears gotten the better of him.
But he also knew if he had to do it all over again, he would have.
She already meant too much to him, and to lose her would destroy him.
Stavros said behind him quietly, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t marry her.” His friend met his gaze through the mirror’s reflection. “But don’t you think this is all too fast?”
The words stayed with Kyr even when he was already inside the chapel, waiting with the rest of the wedding guests for the bride. Roses scented the air, the flowers lovingly selected by the Floros from their farm, while the lilting notes of Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major streamed down from the balcony, played live by a world-famous string quartet that Kyr had flown in specially for the occasion.
There’s still time to back out.
His jaw clenched. Damn you, Stavros Manolis. Best men weren’t supposed to play devil’s advocate at times like this.
But he couldn’t shake the words out—-
Until the chapel doors opened and he saw her.
She stood between her parents, her face covered by a veil, and her body sheathed in a resplendent gown of silk and lace, its mermaid outline emphasizing her voluptuous curves. Even this far, he could sense her nervousness, which went well beyond trepidation. The stiff set of her shoulders, her too straight back, and the way she tightly gripped the arms of her parents as they started down the aisle—-
She was frightened out of her wits, Kyr realized grimly, and why the hell shouldn’t she be?
Their wedding had attracted the attention of the paparazzi, turning what should have been an intimate affair into a publicity circus. He had planned to get rid of all reporters and photographers but she had stopped him, telling Kyr that she didn’t mind their presence at all.
But her smile hadn’t reached her eyes, and she had been holding her breath while waiting for his answer. He had realized then that a part of her believed he didn’t want media coverage because he was ashamed of her.