Page 37 of Claiming Genevieve

“I’m fine having you as my big brother.” I grin at him. “You scared Chris off.”

“I’ll do more than scare him,” he growls as he helps me up the steps. “You say the word,sestra. I’ll peel the skin from his face if he threatens you.”

I know. “It’s fine,” I assure him. “I’m fine. Just breakup drama, that’s all.”

Alek looks at me for a long moment, and I’m not sure if he entirely believes me. But he nods, finally, as we step into the house. “Still,” he says gruffly, “you tell me if you need anything.”

“I will,” I promise, hating that it’s a little bit of a lie. But I tell myself that it’s not much of one. Chris’s threats are empty, I’m sure of it. Just hot air, an angry man who’s pissed that someone else has gotten what he thinks he wants.

Nothing that warrants sending Alek after him, that’s for sure. I shudder, thinking of what Alek would do—I don’t think the comment about peeling faces was a euphemism. I think he’d actually do it.

Soon enough, I tell myself as I retreat to my room and sink down onto the bed, I’ll be married to Rowan. All of this will be behind me.

And I can start thinking about how I’m going to move on with my life.

14

GENEVIEVE

Two days before our wedding, I get a text from Rowan asking me out on a date.

I have to look at it twice, just to make sure I’ve read it right. Our wedding is on Saturday, and I haven’t seen him since the engagement party. There hasn’t been any reason to, as far as I’ve been concerned—but I also just haven’t had time. I’ve been in a frenzy of wedding planning, picking flowers and cake flavors and menus and colors and linens, cramming six to eight months of normal wedding planning into two weeks. But I can’t pretend that I haven’t been thinking about him all that time.

I also can’t pretend that my heart didn’t flip a little in my chest when I saw his name pop up on my screen.

Genevieve:Why??? We’re getting married on Saturday. Can’t this wait?

Rowan:Aw, lass. I thought you’d be pleased that I can’t wait to see you.

Genevieve:This is a business arrangement. Should I be excited for a business meeting?

Rowan:It’s not a meeting. It’s a date.

Genevieve:Not according to the terms of our agreement. It’s a meeting with food and wine.

Rowan:If only all meetings were like that.

I roll my eyes,letting out a sharp breath. I’m not insensible to what he’s doing—trying to charm me, to soften me up. If I’m not careful, it will work. And that’s one thing I can’t allow.

Genevieve:This is pointless, Rowan. We signed the contract. We’re getting married. Why pretend this is something it isn’t?”

Rowan:I’m trying to be a gentleman, lass.

I’mon the verge of texting him back and telling him that’s not necessary, and that I’m too busy to entertain any ideas of a date, when Chris’s name pops up on my screen.

Chris:Have you thought about our conversation at all?

Chris:I’m telling you, you’re going to regret treating me this way.

I swallow hard,anger flaring in my chest. “If there’s one thing I don’t regret, it’s breaking up with you,” I mutter under my breath, before quickly texting Rowan back that yes, I’ll meet him for a date. Out of sheer pettiness, I give him the name of my favorite French bistro—the one Chris took me to right before the showcase.

This time, I’m getting whatever the hell I want off the menu.

I take more care than I probably should in getting ready for the date. It shouldn’t matter what I look like or what Rowan thinks of my appearance—the contract is signed, the wedding is all but planned, and we’re getting married. But I’ve always been just a touch vain, and a part of me wants to see that heat in his eyes when he sees me again. I haven’t forgotten the kiss in his office, or how it felt to have a man want me like that, when no one ever has before. Not to that degree. Not in a way that almost felt like desperation.

I put on a sky-blue silk dress that’s one of my favorites, with a bustier top and a floaty skirt that comes to just above my knees, doing my best to ignore the fact that my cast is so visible. I leave my hair down, in thick, glossy dark waves, and add a bit of light makeup and a red lip, with simple gold jewelry. When I’m finished getting ready, I glance at the time, and see that I have a few minutes left to spare. I step out of my bedroom and head down the hall, planning to go find Dahlia before Rowan arrives.

Instead, just as I step into view of the entryway, I see him there, already waiting. I get a moment to look at him before he sees me—he’s wearing a pair of black chinos and a dark green button-down with the sleeves rolled up, the color contrasting perfectly with his copper hair, which he’s tamed and swept back away from his face. My gaze lingers for just a moment on the muscled line of one forearm, his hand shoved in his pocket, before he turns and catches sight of me.

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