Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
There wasn’t a question, so I didn’t say anything and waited for my father to get to his point. Thankfully, he was always a very busy man, which made him a very blunt man. Very little time for unnecessary details.
“Although the family is dead broke, they have something we do not have, a British title. It doesn’t matter how many generations Manwarring Enterprises continues on. We will always be viewed as grubby Paddies. But those stuck-up bastards will be forced to eat their condescension when we have a title in the family. Understand?”
“No, sir.”
That was not the response I was expected to give. He just raised an eyebrow at me, so I clarified. “I understand that you want to add legitimacy to our family name, a longer history. I understand the Zeigler family is looking to change their financial status. I just don’t understand what that has to do with me.”
He spread his arms as he approached me, before cupping my upper arms. “You, my dear, will be the one making this happen by marrying The Honorable Romney Horus Zeigler, a baron living in London.”
“Oh.” That was the only thing I could think to say.
He actually kissed me on the forehead. “I’m very proud of you, daughter.”
Countless cello concerts, school awards, and accolades, and I finally heard the words I’d longed to hear my entire life… and it was for nothing I’d actually accomplished beyond being a daughter of marriage age.
I’d known my father would be looking to marry me off soon, especially with all the recent near-miss scandals with my brother and sister.
I just assumed it would be to someone I had at least met before, even in passing. I had assumed my father would give me the benefit of allowing a potential suitor to court me before informing me that I was to be married. I was in some medieval times nightmare.
“The Zeigler family will be coming to dinner tomorrow night. You will meet your future husband, and you will not embarrass this family. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered automatically, still not quite processing the information he was throwing at me.
“I have already asked my secretary to make a copy of the research I have done on the family so you can familiarize yourself with Romney’s tastes, habits, likes, and dislikes. I need you to show him that you will be an appropriate wife.”
“What if…” I clamped my lips shut. I knew better than to argue.
“What if what?” My father had already returned to his seat and was pressing the space bar to fire up his computer.
The discussion over my future, my chance at happiness, my thoughts on the matter as a whole, was apparently over.
“What if I don’t like him? What if he doesn’t like me? What if we don’t get along? What if he wants to move me to England?” Everything spilled out of my lips before I could stop it.
I had heard of word vomit before, but I had never experienced it.
Anxiety covered my entire body. It was like ants were crawling over my skin. My face was on fire.
“Whether or not you like him is completely irrelevant. You will do what you are told. If he doesn’t like you, then you had better figure out a way to fix that and make him like you. And if he wants to move you to England, then you are moving to England. I suggest you pack an umbrella. I hear it rains a lot.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to barter me off as if I meant nothing more to you than a painting or piece of property.”
I didn’t know if I had tapped into some kind of weird inner strength or if I was having a mental breakdown.
Probably both.
I’d spent a sleepless night crying into my pillow over Reid.
Everything had happened so quickly last night. The triumph of the concert. Reid’s passionate response.
Then our devastating fight.
All night long, I’d gone over every detail of my reaction, imagined all sorts of different outcomes, and yet it all came down to the same end.
The end for us.
The end before there was even a beginning.
No matter how exciting and dangerous and thrilling I may have found Reid, I could not think of a single scenario where I would have thrown away who I was at my very core, to fuck a man I barely knew on an old, dirty couch.
Especially considering it would have been my first time.
I’d long ago given up the girlish notion of some ultra-romantic, special first night with candles and flowers and words of love, but I at least deserved a clean bed, and not some wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am as if I were being paid by the hour.
Being a Manwarring had one terribly arrogant benefit… I knew my worth.
And I knew the power of bitter regret.