Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
My eyes burned, and I forced myself to look away as I headed up the stairs, straight to my old room.
I bought the dress on a whim. I’d seen it in a store and fell in love with the clean white lines of the long skirt with a scandalous slit, figuring I could wear it for a bridal shower or something. I’d hidden it away with the girlish fantasy of surprising him, wanting to see his eyes darken as they took me in.
Now, it all sank like a ship in the hollow pit of my stomach.
Grabbing it off the hook, I glanced around and realized I’d have to venture into the master closet to grab shoes and jewelry.
I clutched the dress to my chest and rolled my lips between my teeth, worried I was pushing my luck with avoiding him.
“Stop. Being. A. Little. Bitch,” I ground out. If I wanted to get through this ordeal tomorrow, then I needed to start now. By not dreading every step as if I were closing in on my death sentence.
Still, I took soft steps down the hall, finding the bedroom door cracked. The darkness from inside lured me into believing it was empty.
The darkness lied.
“Oh, shit,” I screeched. I opened the door to find Lucian sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees, his head cradled in his hands. At the sound of me entering, his head snapped up, dark eyes pinning me where I stood.
“Aspen.”
Just my name—mixed with the hallway light illuminating the desolate look in his eyes—and I wanted to fall to my knees to offer any kind of comfort he’d accept.
No.
I snapped myself out from under his gaze and moved to the closet, pretending it was nothing more than a practical stop instead of a place to hide. “Sorry. All my belongings are here, and I need to grab some things for tomorrow. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”
“No, I’m glad you’re here.”
The deep rumble of his voice reached through the closet and begged me to melt for him. That mixed with the sound of his clothes rustling as he stood, his steps closing in on the small room, had me frantically searching for what I needed.
“I was hoping we could talk.”
Fuck. What was I looking for?
My mind crumbled under the weight of imagining what he planned to say—another repeat of everything he’d already told me. I struggled to pull enough air into my tightening lungs just thinking about it, about hearing him lay out the rules all over again.
When we first made them, they seemed easy to follow. I could barely tolerate him then. Now, I loved him, and having him remind me that tomorrow—our wedding—had nothing to do with love made me want to collapse to the floor and lock myself inside this stupid closet until it hurt less.
“There’s no need to talk,” I announced.
His sigh carried from outside the room. “Aspen…”
“Seriously—it’s fine, Lucian. You’ve made yourself more than clear. I know tomorrow is about Felix. I don’t expect anything more to come from it.”
“Aspen,” he said, his voice firmer, edged with frustration. “I—”
“No,” I cut in, refusing to put myself through whatever he was about to say. Instead, I kept talking as my hand skimmed over shoes, purses, and jewelry, hoping that if I touched the right thing, I’d remember what the hell I came in here for. “It’s fine. I broke our rule about falling in love. I know, and I’m sorry. But we’ll get through tomorrow, get an annulment, and it will all be over—no arguments from me.”
“I don’t want an annulment,” he grumbled.
“I don’t understand. An annulment is easier than a divorce. Unless…” My hand froze over the sparkling heels I wore the night we brought the club to our apartment—the night I’d started falling in love. My heart squeezed painfully. “Unless you’ve changed your mind completely about tomorrow and you’re calling it all off?”
“No,” he said, exasperated. “Nothing has changed for tomorrow. I just need you to listen to—”
“Please don’t, Lucian,” I begged, squeezing my eyes shut, feeling the walls close in. “Just…please don’t.”
“Jesus Christ, Aspen. I fucking love you,” he bellowed.
My eyes sprang open, the air wheezing from my lungs like I’d been punched. “What?”
“I love you,” he said again.
My mind stalled, struggling to make sense of the words—words that fell so easily from the man who had sworn he’d never love anyone again.
“Now,” he added more quietly, “will you please just come out here?”
I abandoned my search for the shoes and jewelry I finally remembered needing and turned toward the open door, my feet tingling with every step. My head swam so violently that when I stepped into the doorway, I assumed I was hallucinating.
Just beyond the threshold, Lucian kneeled on one knee, a stack of papers held out to me.