Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
In the quiet of the soundproofed room, the crack of breaking bone is as painful as the noise made by nails scratching a chalkboard. Stephen cries out, grabbing his wrist in disbelief as the other assistant only now turns to us as if in slow motion from where he’s standing at a wall filled with fabric samples.
“My hand… my hand!” Stephen whines, cradling his wrist with tears in his eyes as I scoot down to him in panic.
“Be glad it wasn’t your face!” Corvus yells at him.
“The fuck did you do?” I stare at Corvus as the other guys get up from the sofa.
Corvus’s usually pale face is now blotted red, and he sucks in a lungful of air. “You’re really letting him grope you at the suit appointment for our wedding?” he spits out, dragging me toward him by the collar while Stephen’s colleague pulls him out of the space between our feet.
“I did nothing,” I say but stare straight into his eyes in defiance. I have to spread my arms because my fists itch to punch, and I don’t want to do something I’d regret.
Damen’s walking over to the crying tailor to do some damage control, while Remo approaches us, wary like a cat about to pounce.
“Fuck you,” Corvus growls, making both words sound like stabs. “You’re lying. You know you’re fucking lying to my face!” His right hand balls into a fist, but before he can throw the punch, Remo grabs him under the arms, and pulls him away from me.
“Stop it!” he says as Corvus writhes in his grip, and even manages to get one arm out. Before I realize what he’s doing, he grabs the glass of whiskey and throws it at me. I manage to duck and the glass shatters on the wall behind me, but I’m still splashed with the alcohol.
“Like you lied to me in the morning?” I yell back at him, uncaring that we’re making a scene. Fuck that. “We both know you didn’t mean it, but you had to be a bastard about it!” I don’t in fact know he didn’t mean what he said, but I’m so agitated I want to provoke him. If I didn’t have a thing about not hitting my lovers, his nose would have been broken by now.
Corvus deflates when Aspen, who’s still on the sofa, sitting there with a manic grin, releases a chuckle.
“Fuck, Corvus. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
In the brief moment of peace that follows, I hear Stephen’s sob and Damen’s calming voice, but that’s over the moment Corvus shoves Remo away and throws himself at Aspen.
“You fucking bastard! I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this if it weren’t for you!”
I won’t be saving Aspen. He can sleep in the bed he’s made for himself. They roll over the back of the sofa, and I can’t even see their fight. It would have been hilarious if my heart wasn’t in so much pain.
“You don’t have to deal with shit!” I yell, approaching in quick strides in case Remo needs help parting them. “Call off the fucking wedding if you want to.”
Corvus whips his head back, letting go of Aspen so rapidly the fucker just drops to the floor. “Forget it,” he hisses, shoving past Remo as he stands in front of me. He’s panting, messy, and blood’s smeared under his nose from whatever happened during the fight.
I hate myself for wanting to kiss it better.
I sneer at him and squint. “I guess marital bliss it is then.”
The door flies open, the tiny bell above it chimes, and Daphne bursts inside like a blonde tornado. She’s panting, her cheeks are red, and there’s a manic look in her eyes.
“Corvus! I did it! I booked your dream venue!” she exclaims as she looks around, only now taking in the mayhem. She doesn’t ask though. Seems her issue is more pressing than her son’s bloody nose and a crying tailor with a swelling hand. “Only one small issue. The date’s in two weeks.” She beams at him with pleading eyes.
Chapter 21
Corvus
Oops. I did again, I guess. I should probably sing that in public as my punishment.
All those years of perfect self-control, and I lose it over some guy flirting with a man who I was happy to leave for dead less than a month ago. I am to marry this man though. He cuddles me to sleep, and I can’t fucking stand the thought of him in any other bed.
Which is ridiculous.
Idiotic.
Following such base emotions has only ever brought me pain.
This isn’t like me, and yet…
“Yes, we will pay for the physio, and lost pay, and of course an appropriate compensation for emotional losses. As long as you agree to settle this privately,” Damen tells Stephen as I watch Dalton’s tense features, Mother’s words ringing in my ears like a fire alarm. This is the moment to say no and call off, or at least put off, the wedding.