“Good,” the man replies.
Like a magnetic pull, I find myself looking back over at Colin. The more I stare at him, the more it feels as if my brain is broken. I forgot what I’m supposed to say or how to even say it. I still can’t believe he’s standing here on the front steps of my house about to get married…to someone else.
That’s when I suddenly recall that not only has it been seven years since I saw Colin, but the last time I saw him was not on good terms. We fought and said some hurtful things to each other. I told him to leave. He said he never wanted to see me again.
And now I search his features for signs that that still rings true, but for now, he seems to be smiling, as happy and surprised to see me as I am to see him.
“Well,” Pierce says, clapping his hands together, “how about a tour?”
“Yes, of course,” I say, breaking myself out of the spell that Colin’s blue eyes have put me under. Clutching my sister’s brown leather planner against my chest, I turn away from the guests and focus on the task at hand. Regardless ofwhothe wedding couple is, I still need to win this bet and get my house back to being just my house.
I tuck a messy curl of hair behind my ear and fix my wrinkled shirt as I lead the two of them away from the front steps.
“I will take you on your tour of the property and then show you to your room. A full staff will be on hand for you at all times over the next six days. And they’ve prepared a lunch for you today on the veranda behind the house. So once we finish our tour, I will leave you to it. Of course, I will be around, available for whatever you might need.”
With that, I guide the two of them around the property, showing them the gazebo, where the ceremony will be held; the hall of the manor, where most of our parties are held; and the gardens, where we will hold their reception.
I feel Colin’s presence behind me like a shadow the entire time. The memories come flooding back, but I shove them away, devoted to doing my job and winning this wager.
After the tour, I lead them to the table at the back, where our staff has already prepared their lunch. But as I move to step away from them, I feel a warm hand on my arm, sparking goose bumps across my skin. “You should have lunch with us,” Colin says, looking me in the eye. Heat flushes to my cheeks. Then I glance at his fiancé.
“Of course! You’re an old friend of Colin’s,” the man announces, pulling back the extra chair for me. “I absolutely have to hear what you two were like in college.”
Instantly, Colin and I stare at each other with wide-eyed, surprised expressions on our faces.
And I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing I am.
If he only knew…
Chapter Four
Colin
Fifteen years ago
Oxford
“I don’t suppose it’s acceptable to be seen with your mother on the first day of university.”
“It’s fine, Mum,” I reply, walking down the residence hall toward my room at the end. She’s not the only parent dropping off their child and getting them settled in their quarters. There are plenty of other parents escorting students around the campus.
She is, however, the only one in head-to-toe Armani, looking very out of place as her designer heels click against the dusty, weathered wood floors.
Clinging to my side with her handbag clutched tightly under her arm, she stays close as we pass a communal room with large threadbare sofas and a dinette set with mismatched chairs. A waft of bleach, cheap aftershave, and freshly brewed coffee drifts from the room and permeates the hall.
A moment later, a raucous group of teenage boys spills out and nearly barrels into my mother, laughing as their trainers squeak against the old floors.
Her eyes widen with surprise as one of them narrowly misses her.
“Shit, sorry!” he calls before running after his mates down the hall.
When she turns toward me with alarm, I’m afraid she’s about to call this whole thing off. After months of pushing me to stay in a flat near campus and hire a private tutor, as well as a personal driver, she finally relented and promised to give me what I want—arealuni experience.
My entire life, I’ve lived in comfort and luxury—complete with private school, chauffeurs, constant surveillance, and total containment—and it’s been incredibly dull. I’m ready tolive, and for me, that means getting to be an authentic, normal eighteen-year-old, although I’m afraid I have no saintly idea what that entails. I just know that I want to be unsupervised and uninhibited.
And one mob of rowdy boys has my mother shaking in her stilettos, threatening to ruin this for me. Little does she know, I ache to be one of them, in all of their wild and disorderly glory.
My poor mother is petrified for me, but I think I understand her fear. She’s raised me in captivity and is now releasing me into the wild.
