He wants to marry me off.
He thinks I’m ugly.
He wants to marry me off.
I know he didn’t exactly describe methatway, but it means the same thing, right?
And I’m...I’m honestlybotheredthat he thinks he has to marry me off. Since when did the FBI double as a matchmaking agency? Or maybe this is his former-bad-guy days coming to the fore? I mean...I’ve read my fair share ofmafiaromances over the years, and everyone in that world thinks an arranged marriage solves everything. So maybe—
OH MY GOSH.
An email has just popped on my screen, and Icannotbelieve what I’m reading.
RE: Query - THE INFERNALIS FILES
It’s a reply from a no-reply literary agent I emailed just yesterday. And when a no-reply literary agentdoesactually reply, it can only mean one thing, and it’s why my hand is shaking so bad when I click the email open.
Dear Ms. de los Reyes,
Thank you so much for querying me with THE INFERNALIS FILES. I absolutely devoured your sample pages and am thrilled to offer you representation...
A cry escapes me before I can stop it, but the sound is cut short when Zacharie blasts into my room a moment later, the door slamming against the wall hard enough to rattle the crystal chandelier.
“What happened?”
“I...I...”
“Is someone here? Did you—”
Realizing that he completely misunderstood my reason for crying out, but unable to speak because my emotions are still all over the place, I can only point to the laptop he’s lent me, and as Zacharie crosses the room to read the email that promises to make my dream come true—
Everything that’s happened in the past four days suddenly come rushing back, all at the same time.
Kidnapped. Almost auctioned.
Shot. Almost died.
Crushed on someone. Almost crushed by that same someone.
And just like that, I’m crying like there’s no tomorrow.
Did all of those things really happened?
And when I think of how this was all because of Trina—
Why does she hate me so much?
I find myself crying even harder because Istilllove my cousin, and I think I always will. I know she’s only taken me in so she can have access to the money my parents left. But even so. She’s my flesh and blood—
“Luc Infernalis...”
It feels so weird to hear someone say a name that used to exist only in my mind.
“He’s not real.”
I look at my rescuer uncertainly. Why does it sound like he’s gritting the words out? “If you’re asking if he’s based on someone real—”
“Is he?”
