“She’s from great stock,” she informed me, with her bitter tone and filler-filled face, reminding me, yet again, of the terms of my marriage. She made Evangeline sound like a fucking piece of meat.
Is this what Evangeline wants? To be sold to the highest bidder like a fine painting at an art auction?
I know I certainly never wanted this life.
I feel more nauseous every minute the hand on the clock gets closer to the ceremony.
To be the perfect fiancé, I’ve been faithful to Evangeline since they announced our engagement, and I’ve thrown myself into work while my bride-to-be planned the “wedding of the year”.
A whole year and no pussy.
This wedding won’t break my dry spell either.
I shudder at the thought of consummating our marriage. Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. Long dark hair and killer legs, with deep hazel eyes that are so dark, they are like a black hole, sucking your soul. Except her beauty is all superficial. Skin deep. That girl is fucking miserable to the core.
Black heart, black soul, and not an ounce of compassion or love for anyone other than herself.
She’ll probably tell me I’m shit in bed and to hurry up. She’s a bossy bitch, with more emphasis on the bitch part.
My mind wanders down a dark path as I think about my future with her… imagining what our life together will look like.
There’ll be no date nights, laughter-filled vacations, or even hand-in-hand walks along the beach.
She looks at me like I spoiled her whole day by simply breathing the same air she does, and I can’t see that changing when we’re married.
She radiates “fuck off and leave me alone” vibes. Even more so than my mother does, and she is the most emotionally detached person I know.
My heart plunges a little deeper into my chest when the enormity of today sinks in.
My life is heading in the same direction as my parents’. Two people who tolerate each other, only having sex to breed heirs. Two people who otherwise have separate lives, separate bedrooms, vacations, and even meals.
They hate each other.
A mirror image of their lives is not something I want.
I can’t do this.
“Yes, you can,” Lincoln reassures me.
Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.I push my shoulders back, pulling fresh air into my lungs.
Facing me, he brushes the fabric across my shoulders, then grabs my upper arms in a firm grip. “You’ve been telling us this is what you want for the last year, and it’s all going to be okay.” A deep V forms between his brows, now doubting my words. “I’m sure you’ll be fine once you’re at the altar saying your vows.” Lincoln tries to bolster me, but it doesn’t work.
I might vomit or have a heart attack. Either option would be good to save me from this horror.
Lincoln stands back, using his pointer finger to motion up and down my outfit. “One thing’s for sure. We can have a good laugh at the wedding photos afterward. Your suit is fucking hideous.”
Jacob stands shoulder to shoulder with Lincoln, chuckling as they both eye me. “We should hang you up on a wall in your parents’ castle. You’ll look right at home beside the tapestries in the foyer.”
“Oh, fuck off.” I roll my eyes and shove my hands into my pant pockets.
Lincoln punches my shoulder. “It’s just as well you’re a handsome fucker.”
“You look like a human Ken doll. Model material.” Jacob throws me a wink.
I let out a heavy sigh. “You two are really fucking enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“You don’t have to go through with this, Owen.” Jacob’s face drops, his deep frown letting me know how concerned he is for me, too. “I told you to cut all ties and find someone who loves you and who you love back. You should have put a stop to this months ago.”
