Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I tell her about the house, about the columns and the two pools, about the gold and the rugs and all the white, and how it all makes me feel so strange and tacky like I’m a little girl moving into my parents’ house and pretending to be an adult. The place is going to be in my name too, except it’ll never feel like my own, since Carmine’s the one that picked it out and is writing the check.
All I need to do is show up and smile and live there. Which basically describes the rest of my life.
“I have a lot of work ahead of me,” I say and cast an arm over my eyes. “God, Cassidy, I have to decorate an entire mansion soon.”
“You love it, don’t pretend like that’s a burden.”
“Okay, so I’m looking forward to that part a little bit.”
“You’re gonna go nuts with scented candles. I just have this feeling.”
I glare at her. “Just because people think I love candles and keep giving them to me as gifts does not mean I’m going to fill the new place with them.”
“Except you’re probably going to anyway.”
“Fine, just a few rooms.”
“You know, you’ve talked a lot about the house and how you’re feeling, but you haven’t really talked about him. What’s Carmine actually like?”
I shrug a little and swirl the wine. How do I put Carmine into words? I don’t even particularly like him. “Arrogant. That sums it up.”
“That describes basically every guy you’ve ever met. Seriously, I’ve heard rumors about him. Does he live up to the hype?”
I pause and sip my drink and consider. Carmine’s got a reputation—and it’s not exactly a good one. The whispers say he’s dangerous, he’s deadly, he’s stupidly rich and handsome and a total grumpy asshole. Does he live up to that? “In some ways, yes,” I say softly, thinking of his lips on mine in the bathroom. “And in others, no.”
“Wow. Vague. You might as well tell me to fuck off. Seriously, Brice, are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be okay,” I say and bite back the tears that suddenly shove against my throat. Knowing that Cassidy cares about me only makes this harder since I’m leaving her for someone I know doesn’t care about me. Carmine wants to take me and corrupt me, but he doesn’t love me and he never will.
I feel like I swallowed a shard of glass and have to gather myself for a minute. Cassidy hugs me from the side and leans her head on my shoulder, and I stay like that trying not to bawl my eyes out. It’s embarrassing and I hate that I’m getting emotional in front of people—I never, ever do this—but if it’s going to be anyone, it should be Cassidy. She’s been my sounding board for so long now, the least I can do is cry in front of her and prove that I do have emotions after all.
“You’re not moving that far away. I can come visit you every day if you want.”
“You could probably move in. We have like ten extra bedrooms.” I laugh and dab at my eyes.
She sighs thoughtfully. “Carmine wouldn’t even notice. I can use the left pool and you can use the right one, and we’ll never have to comingle our swimming gear.”
I laugh at the idea of having one pool for me and one for her, but it’s not that crazy of an idea considering we really do have two pools, which is an absurd and needless extravagance. But I’m almost tempted to invite her for real: Carmine will probably spend all his time shuttling between Dallas and Philadelphia, and he’ll probably be too busy working to really pay that much attention to me, and maybe I really could let Cassidy live at our place without him even noticing, or at least without him caring. Carmine only wants me for my name, and we only want him for his money, and I bet he’d be just as happy to leave me to my life and my friends and reap the benefits of being married to a Rowe instead of having to actually be kind to me. Assuming Carmine knows what kindness means.
Except I know I’m lying to myself. I can still taste his mouth on mine and feel his hands on my body. No matter how many times I remind myself that I find Carmine repulsive, that he’s exactly the kind of man I hate and the idea of marrying him makes me want to vomit and cry and throw myself off a cliff, not necessarily in that order, there’s still a sick physical part of me that wants to experience his rough touch and his low, melodious voice whispering all the filthy and depraves things I’ve always wanted to experience in some deep, dark parts of my brain.