Page 14 of One Wealthy Wedding

“You offering?” I ask, just to annoy her.

“No,” she says, at the same time as her coworker says, “Yes.”

“I would rather bathe in acid than marry him,” Cat hisses at her friend, who just laughs and goes to greet a customer at the other end of the bar.

“I’m standing right here,” I say.

“Much to my dismay,” Cat responds.

Blair turns to us. “If you’re going to shed blood, do it downstairs, please.”

“Theo was just leaving,” Cat says.

“Oh no, I’m not going anywhere.” I raise my brows in challenge.

“Fine. Come on.” Cat jerks her head at me, and then wends her way out from behind the bar. I follow her down a dark hallway and then down a set of uncomfortably sticky stairs.

“Pleasant,” I say. “Is this where you dismember the bodies?”

“Want to find out?” she tosses over her shoulder.

I smother a laugh and follow her to the ancient wooden bar on the back wall of the space. The mirror is cracked, the bottles are dusty, and Cat is so fucking out of place it makes my head hurt.

Now that I can study her, I can admit that the markers of wealth aren’t there anymore. Her nails aren’t done. Her haircut isn’t expensive. I’ve spent time with enough women in her social circle to know what wealth looks like. It’s careful makeup and beauty treatments, a delicate gold bracelet, diamond studs. Not a faded top and no jewelry. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

“Why are you here?” She crosses her arms over her chest, a movement that pushes her breasts up over the neckline of her criminally thin tank top.

“Buy a man a drink before you interrogate him?”

She silently slides me a bottle of cheap whiskey and a glass.

I pour, sip, and watch her. She’s more patient than I expected. Irritation simmers in her gaze, but her lips press flat like she’d rather die than beg me for an answer.

“I caught the end of your conversation with Blair. Why do you need to get married?”

“Because it sounds like fun,” she says flatly.

“Does it?” I can’t keep the skepticism out of my voice.

“No. Of course not. I need it for my inheritance.”

“There’s a marriage requirement?” That’s surprising. Although maybe not if you’re Gregory Peterson. He never thought I was good enough. Surely, he’d want to make sure someone of quality married his daughter.

“Yep. One year of marriage, and everything the light touches will be mine.” Her tongue taps her lip.

“Everything?”

“Everything.” She nods. “The shares of Peterson International, all my family’s properties, the townhouse I live in. If I stay married for a year, I get all of it at the end.”

“So Blair wasn’t kidding when she asked me.”

“Oh, she most definitely was.”

I nearly smile at the finality of the statement. “Who’s the lucky guy, then?”

She rolls her lips between her teeth before she lets out a heavy sigh. “No one. I’m giving it all up. Unless I can find a husband in the next six days. I’m not holding out hope.”

My amusement dies. Giving it all up sounds like Cat. She doesn’t follow through on things. One minute, she’s your friend, and the next, she’s back at her father’s side and pretending you don’t exist. She’s been given everything, and she takes it all for granted. In her position, I’d be out on the street asking strangers to marry me.

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