“Iama giver. Come on. Let’s go snag you a husband.”
“I’m not going to marry him, remember?”
“Sure, sure. Let’s go ruin your engagement with the devastatingly handsome, perfectly groomed politician with the award-winning smile. I stand with your right to terrible decision-making, Iris.”
She thought Monty was being dramatic, as usual, about her would-be fiancé’s appearance.
But after she convinced him he couldn’t come in the restaurant and mustered the nerve to do so herself—touching the coral charm she still wore under her dress, just once, quick, like the breath she suddenly couldn’t take—she followed the hostess’s directions down the back path to the last table.
Where Finn Westrock was waiting for her.
And, if anything, Monty had beenundersellinghis good looks.
Merfolk were known for their beauty. And Iris was sure she’d seen the best of what male beauty had to offer.
She was incredibly, fully, monumentally wrong.
Because Finn Westrock was devastatingly handsome.
He had to be six-two, seemed fit beneath his stuffy blue suit, and had bone structure that seemed to be carved out of coral limestone—sharp, defined, not meant to yield. And his cheekbones could cut like shale ledges—high, angular, beautiful. And his eyes, well, they glowed green like algae at midnight.
She never expected to be seeing so much of her homeland in his face.
Surely, her surprise over that was to blame for how she lost her footing and literally tumbled into him.
His strong arms went around her as his scent enveloped her. He smelled dry and steady—like driftwood that’s been polished smooth by years of waves.
Interest washed through her—heady and familiar—but deeply unwelcome. She’d barely resisted the urge to turn her face into his neck and press her lips to the pulse of his heartbeat there.
Then he spoke, breaking the spell.
He had an appealing voice—smooth and clear like crisp fall waves, but with just a hint of gravel beneath it. It was the kind of voice that made you want to lean in. So, naturally, she stepped away.
No matter how handsome he was—or how good he smelled—she was determined not to be charmed by him.
He was just a man.
With a stupidly perfect face.
An easy target.
It was time to make him regret ever agreeing to the marriage contract.
4
Iris
“I’m so glad you were available to meet with me today,” Finn said as soon as they were both seated.
Iris bit back her real thoughts that ran along the ‘It’s not like I had a choice’ direction and pivoted to the complete other way.
“Of course! I was so intrigued by your offer. It’s not every day a land man wants to endure the rigorous courtship of a mermaid.”
Doubt flicked across his green eyes, making her hold back a smile.
He was a master at controlling his emotions, though, tamping them down and replacing them with something more manufactured. Even the smile he shot her seemed practiced and disingenuous.
“This union could be historic,” he said. “A royal mermaid has never married a surface-dweller before, let alone a human.” That voice that just a moment before had beenso appealing felt suddenly fake. Too clean. Too careful. Like someone had focus-grouped his vowels. “A real step forward for both our kinds. And who better than us to set the example?”
