Page 20 of Bad Little Bride

“No need.” He hardly looks toward Ann-Marie, instead facing a woman with long brown hair and a nervous smile she keeps pointed at the ground. He holds a hand out in my direction, so I take my cue, stepping forward but not closer to him.

The minute my feet move, her smile snaps up to mine.

“Oh…oh, it’s Miss Revenaw!” She rushes forward, tensing when Enzo slides to the right, to keep her from gettingtooclose to me. Her cheeks pinken, going giddy at his fake little act of protection, and squeezes a small binder against her chest. She sighs happily. “Miss Revenaw, forgive me. I had no idea you were the lucky lady. It’s a huge honor!”

Warmth slips into the cold crevasses of my chest, and I find myself returning her smile. “Thank you, um…”

“Call me Clair.” The woman is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I have taken Mr. Fikile’s orders and brought with me the bestFortune Flavehas to offer.”

My brows lift. “You’re from the magazine.”

She nods again. “We reached out to Mr. Fikile last year sometime asking about a bachelor’s piece. He, of course, was far too busy, so when he returned our call to let us know he couldn’t because he wasn’t a bachelor, we begged for a chance to share the first photo of him and his new belle. That person being you is…beyond words.” She beams.

Literally beams, and a small flicker of pride blooms in my belly, and I am so curious to know which performance of mine she’s familiar with.

I dare a glance at Enzo, who regards me with a strange glint of…something.

“I have to ask.” Her excitement is contagious, and I nod encouragingly. “Do you think you’ll ever return to the Olympics?”

Just like that, the illusion that managed to invade my mind these last fifteen minutes clears, reality once again crisp and fucking clearer.

It’s humiliating from every standpoint. So much so, in fact, I can’t form the words to respond. Can’t meet the burning gaze of Enzo at my side.

I swallow the embarrassment and pretend I don’t give a shit people look at me and want so badly for me to be my twin, that that’s all they see. I can’t fault them for it, it’s only natural. What’s a prima ballerina have on a gold medalist anyway?

Not much.

I’m proud of my sister; I’m just not her.

Forcing myself to face the other woman witnessing this disaster, who may or may not be fucking the man who stole my wedding out from under me—the only thing that would havebeen mine to control in this contractual, sham of a marriage that I’m apparently supposed to pretend is real—I square my shoulders.

“So. Diamonds.”

Ann-Marie smirks, a nasty little gleam in her cat-shaped eyes, and elegantly sweeps a hand out. “Right this way,Boston.”

The moment my name leaves her lips, Clair tenses in my peripheral, but I don’t look her way. I follow Ann-Marie because at this point, I’d let her lead me off a cliff if it meant avoiding the mortification threatening to swallow me whole.

What’s sad is it’s not for me. It’s for him, as I know what he’s sure to figure out.

This is only the first of many introductions that will go this exact same way.

Soon, he will realize “buying” me was no win on the auction block.

He didn’t acquire the one-of-a-kind crowned jewel.

He got the knockoff.

I wonder how many more meetings like this before he checks the return policy on an underground marriage contract?

Spoiler alert: death is the only escape.

Chapter

Six

Boston

I’d rather stareat a pile of horseshit for hours than glance in Enzo’s direction. Still, it’s taking some serious willpower to avoid it, considering he has spent the last fifty-three minutes waiting for me to do exactly that.

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