Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
No answer.
I could punch this door down. Break it. Scare her even more. I could remind her that I held the key to her mother’s destiny.
I could.
But as a man accustomed to moving in the darkness, I had good instincts, and my instincts told me to stop pushing.
I turned around and stomped away.
The clock said three forty-five.
I wrung my fingers together, unfurled them, then dragged my sweaty palms along the pearl-white satin of my gown. My stomach churned with a mixture of anxiety, panic, and trepidation.
Tate was late. Very late.
Our appointment at city hall was an hour away, and he still wasn’t here.
I knew my boss like the back of my hand, and though he was an arsehole of massive proportions, he was incredibly punctual.
“We can clear up all this second-guessing if you pick up the phone and call him,” Cal pointed out gently, standing above me.
She dragged a soft bristle brush along my scalp before repeating the movement with a hair wax stick across my dark, straightened hair. I’d had no time to book hair and makeup, so Cal watched a tutorial on how to give me an updo before coming here, because my hands were shaking too badly. She was doing a fine job at it too.
Despite resembling my fair mother quite a bit, I’d inherited my father’s hair. Growing up, I often wished my hair was thinner, straighter, more manageable. Now, it felt like a gift. A way of seeing my precious, terribly missed dad who passed away too young.
“I’m not calling him.” I crossed my arms and scowled at the mirror in front of me. “It’s in my interest that he doesn’t show up.”
“I doubt he got cold feet, girlie,” Dylan said behind us, breaking in a pair of white glitter pumps for me by walking across the room. “He seems like a man on a mission.”
The heels were sent by Tate yesterday, along with the dress, a bouquet, and some jewelry.
I was surprised the delivery guy had made it to the door. Even though I told Tate I would not tolerate any security, I had spotted Row and Rhyland patrolling the building hourly.
I’d be touched if I didn’t know he was mainly preoccupied with my uterus, which he needed for producing an heir.
“I mean, he has snipers on rooftops around your building.” Dylan withdrew the curtain an inch, peering through the window.
“He what?” I stood up, advancing toward the window. Cal stumbled back at the sudden movement.
I leaned against the thick glass, my mouth falling open. Since the penthouse was considerably higher than other buildings, I could clearly see black-uniformed men in position on a few rooftops with their rifles directed at the reception of our place.
“Christ!”
I grabbed my phone and texted him. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of asking when he was coming. Instead, I snapped a picture of the snipers and sent it to him.
Gia: I said no security.
His response came a few seconds later.
Tate: You said no bodyguards. This is the NYPD.
Gia: ???
Tate: Mayor owes me a favor.
I took a deep breath and bit my tongue, waiting for him to explain his delay. He didn’t, of course. How could I expect decency from a man who had poison running through his veins?
As soon as I plopped back into my seat, Cal resumed tugging, teasing, and brushing my hair. I closed my eyes, fingering my junonia shell bracelet.
I wasn’t sure if I was angrier at him for forcing me into this wedding or because he was dreadfully late for it.
“Care to explain why you have so much security?” Dylan cleared her throat.
“Yeah. Row and Rhy have been checking on your building every hour.” Cal furrowed her brow.
“Tate had a run-in with the Irish Mafia. He received a hot tip that I might be targeted.”
Dylan and Cal exchanged horrified looks.
“I’m sorry, what?” Dylan paled. “That’s insane.”
“So is Tate,” I said.
“What did he do?” Cal shrieked.
I shook my head. “He wouldn’t tell me.”
Cal looked ready to throw up.
“It’s fine,” I tried to reassure her. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Tate has dealt with plenty of disgruntled people in his career.”
Cal dropped her hands to my shoulders, massaging them. “Chin up. We’re here. We’ll let no harm come to you.”
“Tate wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you either.” Dylan inserted a glass of champagne between my fingers. “That man can talk about how much he hates you all day, but he’d go to war for you.”
I didn’t disagree with her. He was obsessed with me. But it didn’t mean he loved or even cared for me.
“I haven’t slept in two days,” I hiccupped, taking a sip of my champagne.
“Why?” Dylan settled at my feet, circling her arms around my thighs and perching her chin on my knees. “I thought you came to terms with the marriage?”
We’d been having daily conversations about doomsday, a.k.a. my wedding day.