Page 133 of Mine to Ruin

My brain tells me he’s playing with me, and with the last shreds of control I stride back into my office. I run a hand through my hair when Kendrick steps inside.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

“Whatever it takes.” I haven’t come this far only for a hurdle to set me back.

When he leaves, thoughts of her sear through my skin and reach my bones.

Today is my day of tormenting her.

I storm to my brother’s suite and slide in the card. Her hand shoots to her heart, and I swallow. She is freshly showered, drops of water gliding down her neck, her head and body wrapped in white towels. An angel. An angel of destruction.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, crossing her hands in defiance.

My eyes catch the sparkle of my ring on her finger, and it strikes my chest. I rub the unpleasant feeling.

“Why are you still wearing it, so eager to marry me?”

Her eyes blaze with hurt and accusation. She strides to me and digs a finger in my chest.

“You can tell everyone the reason we won’t, but I don’t see you doing that either. Why don’t you do us both a favor and marry Melanie?”

“She’s not as fun to torment as you.”

I play with the knot holding the towel. My fingers itch when she swats it away.

“Fuck you.”

She tries to push me off, while I stay rooted on the spot. Our eyes lock, the air heavy with the anger emanating from our bodies.

I arch a brow, pushing for nonchalance even though my insides are burning up. “Are you offering?”

She glares at me, and she juts her chin out.

“So is she back?” she asks, her eyes glassy while her body is carved into a stoic position.

“No, but there are willing women everywhere.”

She strides to the fridge and tosses the bottle of cold tea at my head, and I catch it midair.

“Welcome to Hell, fiancée. In two weeks, we’re getting married.”

Chapter 48

Ellia

On Saturday, I meet with Tara, and I must play my happy fiancée role pretty well if she isn’t to suspect a thing. We share a box of donuts.

“Hey, we have to look for a wedding dress.”

“Tomorrow, when Aubrey comes,” I say, forcing a smile on my lips.

That afternoon, I march through the penthouse and yell at Kian. “Are you crazy? I can’t plan a wedding and find a dress in two weeks?”

“Go there.” He throws me a business card and credit card and says, “It’s all been taken care of, just pick a damn dress.”

“What about a black one?” I sass, putting a hand on my hip.

He rubs his temples, sounding exhausted. “I don’t care if you go naked. Show up and do your part.”

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