Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
She bends down to retrieve her luggage, and the man helps her, pulling it off the belt and setting it next to her. It’s white luggage with a big image of the Eiffel tower on the side of it. It has to be her.
I approach her and am annoyed when the guy hugs Mia. I hear the pretty boy in the suit and loafers wish her luck and then give her his number. I touch the scar that runs from just under my right eye straight down for three inches before it splits like branches of a river on a fucking map.
I pick up the second piece of luggage off the belt.
“Excuse me, that’s my…” Her voice trails off as she looks at me. I offer her the flowers and then brace myself for the rejection.
Is she going to deny that she’s Mia? Call the whole thing off?
She takes the flowers, and her smile is beautiful, but she’s a beautiful woman. Her pity smile couldn’t be ugly, not on her face.
Her eyes go to my cheek briefly and then immediately back to my eyes. I can’t read her thoughts; she is keeping them very guarded behind her light blue eyes and big smile. “Nice to meet you, Mason,” she says, and her voice is smooth as honey. Soft and low and filled with melody.
Speechless, I stare at her. Is this really the woman that signed up for an arranged marriage? She’s beautiful and appears to be sweet. Are the men blind where she comes from? Why would she need an arranged marriage? I would imagine men would be falling all over themselves to get to her.
I know I should offer my hand to her, but I stop myself, feeling for sure that she doesn’t want to be mauled by me at first sight. She’s still smiling, and I appreciate the fact she’s still being polite when it’s clear my scar has startled her. I nod toward the belt. “Do you have any more luggage?”
Chapter 3
Mia
I can’t stop staring at Mason. He’s a tall, powerful looking man. Joy, his mom, said he was just over six feet, with a slight scar on his face, but she’d minimized both characteristics. Mason has to be at least six foot five, and while his scar isn’t slight, it makes him look quite formidable. He’s handsome, and just looking at him almost takes my breath away.
Why hadn’t Joy mentioned how piercing his green eyes are? And wow, his hands are ginormous!
“Everything has been arranged. We’ll say the vows in a room just over there. I have a prenuptial agreement stating that we take from the marriage only what we brought into it in the event of a divorce. The marriage has to be consummated and last long enough for the land purchase to go through.”
I stopped listening after he mentioned the prenuptial agreement, but by the time I decided it was a reasonable request since we don’t know each other yet, he was finished saying the rest of whatever he was saying.
He’s gruff and says it all matter-of-factly. He’s pointing to a room off to the side instead of looking at me. He’s nervous… or he doesn’t want to do this. Are they forcing him to marry me? As soon as the thought pops into my head, I can’t get it out. I can’t marry someone that is being forced to do it. Does he not want to marry me?
I follow him, wheeling my first suitcase along behind me. I’m surprised the wedding is happening so soon, but Joy did mention that Mason was in a time crunch for some reason. The room I follow him into has two people inside. It surprises me so much I nearly trip over my own feet.
“What’s wrong?” Mason asks me, gripping on to my waist to steady me.
“Isn’t your family coming?” I ask. I know he has five brothers, and I have to be honest, seeing Joy right now may help me a little bit. I need to see a friendly face. I had hoped my soon-to-be husband would offer me some kind of kindness or friendliness, but he looks as if he doesn’t even want to look at me.
“My brothers are tying knots of their own, so they couldn’t be here,” he tells me by way of explanation of why none of his family is here. He hands me the contract with a pen and then leaves to go speak to the other two men in the room.
I skim the contract and sign it as I hear Mason asking where the second witness is. I can see that he’s stressed out. I want to help, but I don’t know a single soul in Montana. Then I remember Serge.
“I can call my friend Serge. I met him on the airplane, and he might still be close,” I offer to the three men standing across the room. Anxious now, I set the flowers on the nearest table and wrap my arms around myself.