Page 3 of Don't You Dare Marry Me

Pressing her foot to the gas pedal, Nicola plied it and prayed that it would be just enough to catch. She pushed and clenched her jaw as she waited. Finally, it caught. The engine roared to life and she breathed a sigh of relief. She wouldn’t have to wait for a tow truck to come and rescue her—something else that she couldn’t afford.

Checking her purse with a single glance, Nicola pulled away from the curb. She hoped this was the last time that she would see that house. She wanted it to be the last time she saw Warren, but she knew that wasn’t going to be possible.

The car horn blasted her ears.

Nicola slammed on her brakes and came to a halt. She turned to look up and found a black SUV right next to her. Her heart hammered, and cold washed through her. She bit her lip, not sure what to do or what to say. She hadn’t even looked, had she?

They stayed in silence, and she waited for someone else to take her down a few notches. But instead of that, the car slowly pulled away from hers and started down the road. Nicola groaned and pressed her forehead to the steering wheel again.

“What the hell am I doing?”

She took another minute before she made sure to check her blind spot this time and finally drove away from the house. She really needed to get her shit together. ASAP.

two

Warren snorted. “You little b?—”

“Aunt Abagail!” Estelle was always good at protecting that kid, wasn’t she? It grated on Abagail’s nerves. It drove her nuts. If her brother were still alive…who the hell was she kidding? The same shit would be happening day in and day out.

“Bitch?” Abagail said, making sure that Warren’s insult was completed. She wasn’t going to let him get away with calling anyone that, let alone a woman, and not to mention, the woman he was engaged to. She still remembered when he came to ask her for that damn family engagement ring and how awkward it had been. She wouldn’t be surprised if that relationship didn’t last.

Well, maybe it would. It’d depend on how desperate for money Nicola was.

And from what she saw—Nicola was desperate.

“Is that what you were going to call her?” Abagail asked, pushing her agenda that she wasn’t going to let Warren get away with being a dickhead.

“I-I-I…” Warren stuttered.

“That’s no way to talk to your fiancée.” She crossed her arms and gave him a hard stare. If Estelle wasn’t going to parentthe boy, then she would. Then again, as an adult, she wasn’t sure how much hope he had left. He’d grown up drenched in entitlement and sympathy, and he knew without a doubt that he could get away with every single damn thing that he wanted to. All he had to do was bat the long lashes of his baby blue eyes in the direction of anyone who was pissed at him.

Well, that shit had never worked on her and it wouldn’t today.

Abagail waited, the tension in the room thickening. But she was used to being in tense situations like this one. She was used to being the outsider looking in and trying to figure out what drama was happening under the surface.

“She’s not my fiancée, Aunt Abagail.”

Well, that was brand new information. Abagail flicked her gaze over to Nicola, who was looking down at her shoes. If she wasn’t engaged to Warren anymore, then why was she here? What was she still looking for from him?

Money, probably.

“She’s not?” Abagail continued to look at Nicola, eyeing her over. The way the fabric of her clothes cut across her body, the redness in her cheeks that definitely wasn’t from blush. She was embarrassed by this whole situation, wasn’t she? Just what had Abagail stumbled into? “Then why is she here?”

“She’s supposed to give me Nana’s ring back.” Warren’s upper lip pulled into a sneer.

Abagail knew she shouldn’t have ever given him the ring to begin with. But who else was supposed to have it? She hadn’t planned on getting married, and Warren was the only grandchild and the only one currently in any kind of formal relationship. Well, not now, she supposed. It grated on Abagail’s nerves. She really shouldn’t have handed it over to him so cavalierly.

Nicola straightened her shoulders, that diminished look sliding from her face as if she was literally picking herself up off the floor and preparing for the next round of a fist fight. “I am supposed to give it back. We had an agreement, and once Warren holds up his end of the bargain, he’ll have the ring back in his skinny little fingers.”

Why was that so amusing to her? Abagail could see the look of horror on Warren’s face even though she wasn’t actually looking at him. He was always such an entitled snob, and she could see him grasping for what he thought was his even if it wasn’t.

“When that happens, I’ll gladly give the ring back.” The slight sneer in Nicola’s voice may have just made Abagail’s day.

She was about to respond when a young woman walked into the house, someone she recognized, although she had to think back and tickle her memory for an answer as to exactly who she was. Abagail pressed her lips together hard, searching her memory for the answer. The woman walked closer to them, brushing her hair behind her ear and Abagail caught sight of the small scar just above her left eyebrow.

Chaya.

Abagail should have known, but it’d been at least ten or fifteen years since she’d seen her. She shouldn’t be surprised that Warren would ditch Nicola for the old fling who had never gone away. She’d been surprised he’d shown any interest in Nicola to begin with, considering they were from wildly different sides of the track.

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