Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
“Excuse me,” I piped up, beginning to make my way down the stairs and onto the street. I didn’t even have full control of my feet. They’d just left the premises of their own accord. As if they knew something my brain couldn’t fully comprehend. That marrying this man was going to be a terrible mistake, punishable by great heartbreak.
Before I knew what was happening, I was charging down the street, zipping past storefronts and commercial buildings and shoppers, my breathing labored, my forehead dewed with sweat.
Why did I want to stay in New York? I had virtually no friends here, no job, and a shoebox of a flat, and my most prized possession was a thermal laminator.
I was about to round a corner when someone jerked my wrist from behind. They tugged me into an alleyway before pressing my back against the sizzling brick wall.
I was crowded by a huge, male body. I sucked in a breath. It was classic Duffy Markham to get robbed on the day I’d decided to ditch my sham wedding.
“Out of all the crap I thought I’d have to deal with in this lifetime, a runaway bride wasn’t one of them.” Riggs’s beautiful face materialized an inch from mine. As close as he was the night we’d almost kissed.
“Christ, Riggs.” I pushed at his chest, snarling. “You scared the hell out of me!”
“You ran away on our wedding day.” He stared at me with what almost looked like raw pain. “A wedding day which, by the way, you blackmailed me for.”
“I wasn’t running,” I lied haughtily. “I just . . . needed air.”
“There was a sufficient amount of air on the courthouse’s stairs.” He turned to point at the direction of the courthouse. “Same level of air as anywhere else in this city. What’s going on?”
“I f-f-freaked out,” I said, stuttering out the truth.
He blinked at me, looking confused. “Care to give me some more information that wasn’t evident from you taking the fuck off?”
Whoa. He was pissed. I’d never seen Riggs this livid. Annoyed? Yes. Disinterested? Plenty of times. Even when he had his headaches, he was mostly irritated. But never, ever angry.
“It just dawned on me that this is my wedding day. I imagined it very differently growing up. And . . .” I gulped down a sob. “Well, there hasn’t been one day in my life when I haven’t thought about my wedding day. So it feels really sad that nothing about it is going to be as I planned.”
His frown collapsed.
“You wanted this,” he said quietly, after a pregnant silence.
“I know.” Tears filled my eyes. The first tear escaped before I could wipe it. It ran down my cheek. Riggs brushed it away with his thumb. “The pragmatic part of me—the one who wants to marry rich—thought it was a good idea. Still thinks so. But I guess . . . well, I guess there’s another part to me. One that loves Pride and Prejudice just the way it is.”
I wasn’t making much sense, was I? And yet, it seemed as though my future husband knew exactly what I was getting at.
With a sigh, he pressed his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. I did the same and found that I soon lost my hold on gravity with him so near. It felt like I was drifting on clouds.
“You’ll still have that dream.” His thumb brushed across my cheek, back and forth, in a soothing, repetitive motion. “Just not with me.”
“I know.” My voice cracked.
“And if there is a God, not with Cocksucker either.”
I snorted out a laugh, burying my face in his shoulder. Not because I was devastated—even though I was—but because I didn’t trust myself not to kiss him when he was so close. That was a whole new problem I wasn’t eager to unpack.
It was just that sometimes, when my eyes were closed and my heart was open . . . Riggs Bates felt like he was truly mine.
He stroked my hair, sweeping his hot lips across my temple. “There, Poppins. Everything’ll be fine. Take my word for it. I don’t throw promises around very often.”
I loathed that he called me Poppins. Was that all I was to him? An odd, eccentric character?
We stayed like this for a few minutes, wrapped in one another, breathing each other in, before Riggs’s front pocket danced with an incoming call. He pulled his phone out.
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to be late to your own wedding, lovebirds,” Christian’s voice announced on speaker. “And not fashionably so, if I may add.”
“We’re coming,” Riggs said shortly.
“Do you even have a bride anymore?” Arsène asked.
“Just barely,” Riggs gritted out, giving me a look. “You did a good job of almost scaring her away.”
“Not good enough, if the wedding’s still on,” Arsène said easily, not a hint of sorrow in his voice.