Page 35 of Bad Little Bride

Not that a promise made by a moralless man means a damn thing, but it may have meant something to her as it does me, as stupid as that sounds.

Technically speaking, our contract is nothing but a promise, considering what Enzo said is true. He is the law, so if he wanted to end the legally binding relationship, both the agreement in ink and the marriage license stamped with the state seal, he could.

He would lose the respect of the other elder and head families—real men don’t go back on their word, it’s the only thing that means a damn in this world, but did he not do that already?

He married that girl, then divorced her when a more lucrative offer came along.

What’s to stop him from doing the same to me?

A better question, though, is who will die when he does, because my father, superseded by Bastian or not, would never let that stand.

He will come at Enzo with all he has.

Who will win, I have no idea, but when that day comes, it’s not myhusband’shand I’ll fight for.

That’s for damn sure, not when I’ve woken from a dead sleep every hour with the image of Katana slipping over my eyes, just as I did with my mother the first year following her death.

A humorless laugh leaves me and I pick up the giant fucking blunt still glaring at me from where it was left on the edge of the vanity and move to the balcony.

I light my candle, then roll the tip of the blueberry-flavored wrap through the flame before bringing it to my lips.

It’s pathetic, honestly. I was devastated when my mother died, maybe even traumatized, so that made sense.

I’m not devastated that my fake, contractual husband—who only wanted me for the power I can give him—already had a wife. How foolish would I be if I were?

No, this is just…anger. Yeah, that’s all it is.

If that’s true, then why did my desperate heart find comfort in the vows he stole from me?

Because for the first time, you had a label to your name that meant something.

I groan, shaking my head, because yeah. I’mthattragic.

Finding out I was married to Enzo did mean something to me. Not as a woman and man taking that next step, but as someone who craved…more.

Suddenly, I wasn’t just the other twin, the extra heiress that didn’t make the cut into the cardinal compass that makes up the Greyson girls, even if there are only three and there is supposed to be four.

I was—no, Iamsomeone’s wife.

Not just any someone, but Enzo Fikile, billionaire and Fikile Elite Security’s CEO. King of his very own empire.

Little did I know, I’ll never be his queen.

What was it he had said? He needs a wife who doesn’t sit back like avoiceless doll?

“Fine,” I mutter, falling back on the soft cushions beneath me to stare up at the dark sky—another day wasted away in my room.

Pulling a few short hits into my lungs, I release them into the air above, watching as the smoke disappears as if it was never there in the first place, like a bad omen.

“You want a vocal wife? That’s what you’ll get.”

Maybe he’ll let me go faster this way before I do something really fucking stupid.

Like fall in love.

Another laugh leaves me and for the first time in a long time, a real smile curves my lips.

Yeah, fucking right.

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