Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
The jar sat dead center on the kitchen island, catching the morning light like some morbid shrine. Nearby, one of her partially completed bug boards leaned against the wall, a dead, leggy spider pinned at a slightly crooked angle.
She should probably clean up.
Or at least move the jaw spreader from the bathroom sink.
“I’m sorry, but who are you?”
“Arden Laurent. Lower demon. Connoisseur of love. Planner of soul-binding contracts.” At her blank look, Arden shot her a wicked smirk. “I’m your wedding planner, love.”
“Oh! Okay. I mean, since you talked to my mother, I’m assuming you know this match is, uh …”
“As romantic as political red tape can be,” he supplied. “No worries. The love interests don’t have to like each other at first. That’s what banter is for.”
As he said that, Arden pulled a heart-shaped notebook out of his pocket. Then he pulled the heart-printed pen out of the spiral binding, popped it, and got ready to write.
“So, you’re a summer.”
“A summer what?”
“Season. Your coloring. Your fiancé seems more like an autumn to me. But, let’s face it, it’s your beauty we want to accentuate on your wedding day. Do you have any preferences on gown styles? Because with a body like that, you could wear last week’s headlines and still be the talk of the town.”
“I don’t really know much about dress styles,” Iris admitted. “I’m new to the surface,” she added.
“Dress shopping is … scheduled,” he said as his pen raced across the page.
“Out of curiosity, how loyal are you to my mother?” Iris asked, hating the idea of Arden putting a ton of work into her wedding, only to find it canceled.
“I am bound to the royal family to plan all their weddings for the next fifty years. But if you’re asking if I’m going to tell the good queen that her darling daughter isn’t a starry-eyed virgin in her white gown, your secret is safe with me. I like the love story. But I’m here for the money.”
“Do you still get paid if the wedding gets, you know, canceled?”
To that, Arden’s lips curved up, and a dark glee spread across his stormy eyes. “Oh, I have witnessed quite a few engagement collapses in my time: runaway brides, grooms sleeping with the maid of honor, a rogue troll coming to object and steal the bride away. You name it, I’ve seen it. And have gotten paid.”
“Oh, good.”
“Trying to get out of your arranged marriage, are you?”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask why? Because I have lived through five centuries, two hundred and seventy-five wars, eighty-six vampire scandals, and still that man’s jawline is the most dangerous thing I have ever seen.”
“Because he’s … a mayoral mannequin. He’s full of scripted sincerity and PR-approved charm. I don’t think there is a single genuine thing about him.”
“Ah, yes. He does come off as Mr. Electable. Because he, as crazy as this may sound, wants to be elected.”
“Hey, whose side are you on?” Iris grumbled.
“Yours, love, always yours. I support a woman’s rights and her wrongs. I will let you decide which category this falls into.”
“I don’t belong on land,” Iris said, her barely contained emotions drifting to the surface.
These were the real ones.
Not the over-the-top dramatic ones she pretended to have in front of or around Finn.
She’d hurt her own throat from pretend-sobbing over that thing he’d said about collecting shiny things.
To her horror, he hadn’t been turned off by the display, either. He’d been waiting with a cup of tea and what seemed like a real apology. She tried to tell herself he was so good at spin that it was impossible to tell if he was being real or not.
“Oh, you pretty thing,” Arden said, producing a pocket square that featured—of course—a heart pattern. “Heavy is that coral crown,” he said, patting the tears on her cheeks. “Well, just because there won’t be a wedding doesn’t mean we can’t have fun planning the most fantastic one imaginable.”
“Fun how?”
“Well, we can go visit venues, for one. I was thinking, given who you are, something near an ocean would be ideal.”
“We could visit the beach?” she asked, spirits rising.
“Of course we can. You know you can, right? You’re not a prisoner here.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to get there.”
“That’s what GPS is for.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“You don’t have a phone.” Arden repeated it as if she’d declared she didn’t have bones or lungs.
“No. I wouldn’t know how to use one if I did.”
“What is this fiancé of yours doing to help integrate you into the surface, exactly?”
Iris squashed the sudden, unwelcome urge to defend Finn. Because what the heck was that about?
“He gave me the card to access the saltwater pool in the basement.”
At Arden’s blank look, she shrugged. “Monty volunteered to show me the city. So I guess Finn thought that was enough.” She couldn’t really blame Finn for the fact that she had turned down the pelican and his desire to ‘hobnob with the rich and scandalous’—whatever that meant.