“When will you meet your new fiancée?”
I stroke her hair. “I have paperwork to carry out first, then the ceremony.”
Tears gather in her eyes. She covers her face.
I remove her hands. “Tell me what’s wrong, princess.”
“I don’t know. Maybe the weed.” She closes her eyes, then opens them and kisses my nose. “It’s too bad you’re marrying someone else so soon. I was hoping I could have you longer.”
Yep, that’s the weed. She hit the vape a lot.
“Princess…”
Her eyes droop, dilated. “I thought you’d turn out like someone else I know. Which scares me.”
She zones out, staring into space.
I grip her chin, stroke her cheek. “Who?”
She freezes, and my chest hammers. I draw her to me, brush my lips over her temple, and feel her melt into my arms.
“My ex,” she mumbles, drifting to sleep. Seconds later, she snores.
What went on with her ex? If he harmed her, I’ll hunt him down like an animal. No one touches what’s mine and gets away with it.
My phone dings.
Harrison: Thank you for your donation. What you requested has been completed.
Me: You’re welcome.
I tuck my phone in my pocket and exhale into the quiet room. Stroking Lilac’s forearm, I brush my mouth against her forehead.
Lilac will be mine sooner than expected.
Lilac
“Ihave something to tell you two.” Winter swallows thickly, blinking rapidly and tucking a blonde lock of hair behind her ear. Her elegant long-sleeve dress hugs her curves as she blows on her steaming coffee.
The café smells of burnt caramel and cinnamon. The espresso machine hums in the background, low and steady. I stare at the painting of a latte on the honey-yellow wall, but my thoughts are elsewhere.
I force a smile, my pulse hammering.
“What is it?” Lyrical asks, narrowing her eyes.
Winter’s shoulders tense. “My father joined the American Billionaire Club, and now I’m in an arranged marriage with Keanu.”
A sharp pang of jealousy twists in my chest. She’s been my best friend since freshman year. I should be happy for her, but… it hurts. Not because of her, but because I feel like I’m missing something I can’t have. I’ll never marry Irvin, and if I had a choice, I still wouldn’t.
I think back to last night, high and reckless, spilling my heart to Irvin. How I almost spilled my guts to him about Emerson, bearing my soul. And the sex… He knows my body, and how I want him to force me to fuck. I can’t help but to give in to him. The thought… makes desire bloom in my stomach. I shouldn’t let my guard down—he’s dangerous, unpredictable, but he makes me feel safe. Makes me want to trust him. I shouldn’t want him. But I do.
I clench the warm mug in my hands hard.
He’s marrying someone else in thirteen days, and yet… I want him. I know the day will come, and I dread every second of it. It’s irrational. Stupid. He’s a walking red flag, and still, I feel like I need him.
I sip my hot cocoa, trying to ease the stabbing pain in my chest, and force a smile.
“How do you feel about that?”
