Celia Huckabee: Is he being a douche about it?
Elle Kissinger: No, he’s actually been pretty nice the whole time so far.
Elle Kissinger: He brought me breakfast in bed. I think he even tucked me in last night, but that part’s pretty hazy.
Celia Huckabee: Wow, that was kinda sweet actually. Maybe he’s not a total dick after all.
Celia Huckabee: So what now? You guys gonna date or something?
Elle Kissinger: Yeah right. He’s my BOSS.
Celia Huckabee: But you said you were gonna quit after you get your half of the $$.
Elle Kissinger: I am not going to date him. One night of good sex doesn’t erase 6 months of being a complete asshole.
At the actual engagement party, I’m suddenly really glad I’m not wealthy.
Standing with Colin and the hundred or so people in the mansion’s ballroom, I’m staring at Isla, and it’s so obvious that she doesn’t want to marry this guy, but has no say in the matter. What I’ve gleaned from conversation with Colin and the Reyes daughters over the course of the weekend is that this is one-hundred-percent an arranged marriage. Malachi Sterling is the Duke of Corwick, a small island nation nestled between Ireland and the United Kingdom, just south of the Isle of Man. Despite his official title as a duke, he’s actually a prince. His parents, who are also at the front of the ballroom and dressed in blinding finery, are the King and Queen of Corwick. Malachi has an older brother, the crowned Prince of Corwick, who’s already married and has two sons, so he’s far enough down in line for the throne that, barring some kind of tragedy, he’ll never be king. Nevertheless, Isla is signing up to be literalroyalty, but she isnothappy about it. This arranged marriage is a strategic move that will equally benefit the small island nation and UMG through some kind of media monopoly.
It seems shady as hell and possibly illegal, but then again, I don’t know anything about Corwick or international monopoly laws. I only know I’m really glad I’m not Isla, and I still wish I could rescue her.
Colin is standing just behind me, and I incline my face sideways so I can speak discreetly in his ear.“She looks ready to spit nails.”
“Yeah, she does,” he whispers in agreement. “I love the Reyeses, but I think it was pretty shitty of Ernesto to do this to her. It wasn’t like this with Graciela. She actually liked Auggie from the start.”
“Can they at least get divorced later after the monopoly goes through?”
At the front of the ballroom, Malachi holds up an official-looking document and begins to read from it. “SeñorReyes, it is with utmost respect and reverence for the traditions and expectations of your great family that I, Malachi Sterling, Duke of Corwick, humbly ask for the privilege of having the hand of your daughter, Isla Sofía Reyes, in holy matrimony, on the agreed-upon date, until death do we part.”
Isla visibly blanches at the worddeath, but she continues to stiffly hold her chin high.
“I’m thinking probably not,” Colin murmurs, turning his face more toward me. His bottom lip brushes my earlobe, and my fuzzy memory of the night before causes me to ache in all of the places he had his hands, while chills scatter all over my arms. He immediately notices and braces his palms around my arms to rub them rapidly as if trying to warm me up. “Are you cold?”
I say nothing, but my gaze betrays me in a glance that catches on his clear blue eyes. “No.”
He slows the rub of his hands, and now we’re locked in this stare, and I really shouldn’t encourage this. We already established earlier this morning that last night was a drunken mistake. We’ve got one more night here, and we’re not going to do that again. I’m going to keep my head and not get drunk, and we’re not doing it again.
I amnotgoing to lean closer to his lips right now.
I amdefinitelygoing to turn my head back forward.
I mean, I’m going totry.
I’m trying.
I’m failing.
His lips are right there, and he smellsso freaking good, and all those parts of me are aching again, and…
Colin brings his hand to my cheek just as I tilt my chin toward him, and our lips meet in a soft, delicious collision.
Fuck.
I’m in trouble.
After the official engagement party and wedding date announcement, Malachi left with his parents, and Isla barricaded herself in her bedroom. The guests have all gone home, the staff cleaned everything up, and the Reyeses have gathered in the large dining room of the main house for light tapas. At least, theirotherthree adult children, plus Auggie, have gathered in the dining room. Mr. and Mrs. Reyes are in the middle of a heated discussion in one of the drawing rooms, speaking in very loud Spanish to each other.
Colin and I are seated next to each other across from Joaquin, Graciela, Auggie, and Liliana while we all nibble on stuffed mussels, sliced chorizo with bread, and something spicy and delicious calledpatatas bravas.Everyone else besides me is drinking. Colin and I are still supposed to be acouplein this situation, so I’m snuggled up against his chest while his arm is draped over my shoulder, fingers stroking my neck, while he absently scrolls through digital forms on an iPad Mini. And I’m not even drinking, but I can already tell this is going to be a problem.
