Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“We have a dress,” the lady offers. “It may fit.”
“Get her the dress,” Kenzo orders.
“I don’t need the dress,” I reply, and the lady looks at both of us, confused.
Girl, me too.
“Get the dress,” Kenzo says again.
Before I can argue, he steps in front of me, effectively shutting me up. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black ring box. My heart starts racing. He snaps it open, and I look down at it.
It’s…beautiful.
But how?
“I did a job for a jeweler here, and he owed me. Told me he would give me his best.” He holds out the ring box to me, and I take it with shaky hands.
This ring is a large, oval-shaped black diamond surrounded by blue and pink sapphires. I’ve never seen anything like it.
It’s breathtaking.
Gorgeous.
Unique.
“Here you go, dear. You can change just back here.” I look over my shoulder to where the lady is holding a white dress. I’m frozen in place, my hands still cradling the ring box. He takes it from me and slides it back into his pocket. I want that ring.
“It’s yours,” he tells me, as if he can hear my thoughts.
The lady must realize I’m stuck, and she gently reaches for my elbow to guide me to the room. I do everything as if on autopilot.
“Do you need any help?” she asks, as I can’t seem to form words. She shuts the door behind us and starts to unzip the white dress. It’s lacy and cute. Not something I would pick, but I guess it works.
I undo my pants, and as I step out of them, the lady offers me the dress. “If you just step in and pull it up, I can zip for you.” I do as she says, pulling the dress up to my waist. Before I pull it up any higher, I slide my shirt off and discard it. “Maybe the bra, too, just because it’s black.” I look down at my bra and bite my lip. Shit, it is. Unclipping it, I remove it and then slide the dress up the rest of the way. She doesn’t wait for me to speak before the dress is zipped up. “Look at that. It was made for you. Perfect.” She claps her hands, opens the door, and walks out.
How do I do this?
How do I marry this man?
One foot in front of the other, that’s how.
Ten
Kenzo
This is probably the stupidest thing I have ever done.
If I told my brothers right now what was happening, they would hang up and wouldn’t believe me.
Marriage.
Ha! Now that’s funny, isn’t it?
“She looks beautiful,” the minister says.
I got a ring.
A fucking ring.
What the fuck is happening?
I turn, thinking it would be smart if I left. But I never claimed to be smart. And when I see her walking toward me with those devil eyes, I know I’m in trouble.
What kind of trouble? Well, I’ve yet to find that out.
Inhaling deeply, she doesn’t take her eyes off me as she meets me at the end of the aisle. The minister starts talking, but I don’t hear the words.
The ring slides on effortlessly, somehow being the perfect size.
We say “I do” when instructed. I hear the click of a camera as he tells me to kiss her. She freezes, but I don’t. One thing I liked about tonight was the sweet taste of her lips. Her eyes, those fucking devilish eyes, flick from mine to my lips. She knows and doesn’t tell me to stop as I place a hand on her side, our bodies flush as I lean in.
“Kenzo,” she says, and it’s the first real thing she’s said since we started. “What are we doing?” I want to laugh because it seems neither of us really knows. Maybe that’s the fun in it.
I touch my lips to hers ever so gently, which is totally unlike me. We both seem to freeze at the contact. My hands dig into her sides, and her hand lifts to my shoulder. My lips start moving, and she grants me access, my tongue sliding in just as hers meets mine.
A kiss.
A simple kiss that will lead to many fucked-up nights to come.
She is nothing I want.
Yet my body tells me otherwise.
She has nothing to offer me.
Yet my hands won’t seem to leave her sides.
She kisses me back, and I pull her even closer. Her white dress against my black suit is fitting.
White and black—completely opposite.
It is a complete contradiction, just like this marriage.
Luckily for her, my suit has no blood on it today. Otherwise, her dress would be smeared with it.
Someone coughs, and she pulls back, but my hands stay locked at her waist. Her dark chocolate eyes—one with that intriguing black smudge in the iris—lock with mine.
“Your photos will be ready at the front soon,” the lady tells us as she leaves the chapel.