Prologue Letty
AGE SIXTEEN—
My hand tightens around the ridiculously expensive floral bouquet sprinkled with white roses, mauve peonies, and yellow carnations that I clutch too tightly in my right hand, curling my fingers around the bubblegum pink ribbon as I stare across the dais where my mother and her newest fling currently tie the knot. My dress matches the mauve flowers, and it’s flattering, at least, not that I ever got to voice my opinion on the design or the color. This wedding is as close to a farce as you can get.
Why? Because it’s not going to last. Somewhere deep, I think my mother knows it too. I don’t give a shit that she decided to fall in love for the, oh, what is it now? Thefifthtime since my father’s death? There’s no bitterness. I’m only pissed because ofwhoshe chose, specifically whose son I had become linked to by marriage.
Gage Blade.
The cocky senior at Summit Hill High is also the reason I currently live a life of continual misery. The son of Mifflin Blade, the CEO of Blendcore Enterprises. One of the wealthiest men in the city. He owns everyone and everything. Just ask him. His sons are worse, especially the oldest, Gage. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson.
Gage fit every stereotype of a typical spoiled playboy son who partied too much and changed women as often as his shirt, with one exception. Gage rode a Harley, wore a leather jacket, and covered his body in a canvas of seductive dark ink. A rebel and a natural leader, people flocked to him, and it’s more than his gorgeous body, but that certainly doesn’t hurt his rep any. If youlook up charisma in the dictionary, I’m confident his picture will be there. Everyone loved him. . . butme.
Gage ruined my life.
I have every reason to feel the way I do. The cocky asshole and his brothers made the last six months of my life hell. Judging by Gage’s expression, he not only knows but enjoys the havoc his presence causes me. He hasn’t stopped staring at me since we walked down the aisle together. Just my luck, my mother insisted on it.
Gage took advantage of my vulnerability and knew I couldn’t refuse or pull away as he slipped my hand around his bicep and held it the entire time. It felt like I was being marched to my execution. The twitch of humor on his lips didn’t help. His warm fingers squeezed once before releasing me, just to add insult to injury.
Now, we’re standing here in our silly wedding attire, watching our parents say vows neither of them intends to keep. I can see the stupid amber sparkle in his dark brown eyes and the way he assesses me, lazily dragging his gaze over my body like he has any right to openly ogle me in front of our parents, much less the entire group of witnesses gathered for the wedding.
I’m so distracted that I don’t realize the vows are finished until my mother and Mifflin lock lips. It’s official now. My mother married the enemy.
My mom met Mifflin six months ago, just one week before the most traumatizing and embarrassing moment of my life so far, thanks to Gage. My mother, Cynthia Jacobs, runs a lucrative home decorating business. When Mifflin hired her company to redecorate his offices, my mother showed up with the plans. The whirlwind romance brought us to today, where I have to endure Gage Blade’s unrelenting stare.
I hug my mom and whisper congratulations, watching as she links hands with Mifflin. She seems happy. Maybe this is the one.
Ignoring Gage, I find my seat at our table. Placards with floral embossing denote our names and assigned seats. Nothing is left to chance. My mother has choreographed the whole night, and it’ll go according to her plans. That’s how it always is.
Gage sits beside me, pulling out his phone. He looks bored. We eat in silence even as the conversation around the room rises in noise level. It’s awkward, but hell, so has every instance I’ve seen Gage since the night things went to shit.
“Planning to ignore me all night?” Gage’s brow arches in a devastatingly handsome display of mock concern, and I grit my teeth.
I don’t answer him.
The dance floor opens after a five-course catered dinner, and the newlyweds share their first dance. I try to smile and act the way I’ve been primed to do, but it isn’t easy.
My mother holds out her hand and approaches me as the song ends. “Letty.”
I rise from my seat and join her, trying not to scowl as Mifflin calls Gage. I know where this is going. They want us to play nice and put on a show. After all, the paparazzi are here to ensure the city sees the splendor.
I want to throw something and scream. I won’t. It’s not worth the fuss or the headache that will follow.
The two of us are gently pushed together as the new song begins, my mother gesturing for the guests to join in. I can’t refuse her in front of everyone. Neither can Gage.
His hand grips my waist and squeezes, drawing us closer as his fingertips glide over my skin, and he presses his palm against my lower spine. His free hand closes around mine as we sway to the soft music.
I’m suddenly too aware of him. The heat he’s giving off is nearly suffocating. Gage’s body, so close to mine, is wreaking havoc on my crumbling composure. With only his firm touch, I’m already unraveling like a woven doll he’s intent on reducing to a pile of worthless string.
I try to ignore him as long as possible, avoiding direct eye contact, but that proves unsuccessful when he finally speaks.
“Try not to ruin that pretty face with such a sour expression.”
“Well, I’m with you, so it’s unavoidable,” I retort.
His lips twitch in the corners as if he’s fighting a smile. The bastard is gleeful.
“You think this is funny,” I hiss. “It’s not.”
