Page 20 of Vows We Never Made
Mom heaves a sigh. “Nothing, dear. It’s just, maybe you should pick clothes that suit you a little better.”
Clothes that don’t make me look fat,she means.
My jaw drops, but before I can lay into her and tell her she has no right to attack my wardrobe or my body, the intercom buzzes again.
Seriously, what now?
“Can I come in? It’s Ethan,” a gruff male voice snarls over the speaker.
Holy shit!
Mom’s face immediately brightens. I’m praying she won’t remember him, but Margot’s presence alone is a reminder.
Also, Mom worships power, beauty, and wealth, and Ethan has the evil trifecta.
Lucky me.
I lunge for the intercom, but Mom beats me to the wall, buzzing him up.
Margot sends me a wide-eyed stare I know how to interpret:oh fuck.
Yep.
Oh, fuck.
And he’s about to walk right through my front door.
Mom sprints back to the kitchen and I think she grabs one of those kale monstrosities from the fridge.
I’m not sure because I’m running for the laundry, which has a couple pairs of my panties in full view. I barely manage to chuck it into the bedroom before Lucifer marches through the front door.
Tall. Coppery dark hair. Midnight blue eyes.
You never forget those eyes.
Cheekbones that are probably visible from outer space and a jaw so sharp it could engrave curse words on titanium.
Everything about him is hard, from the wall of granite posing as a chest to the mile-wide shoulders holding up a face set like an angry god.
His gaze settles on me, dark and so intense, my breath stalls.
Breathe, Hattie.
Can we not make this worse?
In my defense, he’s wearing a full suit that looks painted on, open at the throat, just enough to show off a hint of tanned skin. It’s the kind of healthy glow that’s rare here in Maine, the type you only get from jetting off regularly to warm, sunny places.
This man is atrociously handsome. And so far out of my league it feels like a cosmic prank.
Oh, and he’s scowling. Like always.
“I assume you didn’t know anything about this insane arrangement,” he says before I can utter a single word. “It’s damn ridiculous, and if you had anything to do with setting it up—”
My hands clench into fists.
My eyes are lasers.
I have a biting urge to throw the heaviest book I own at his stupidly attractive arrogant face. No matter how well dressed he is, he’s still a fire-breathing asshole.
