Page 55 of Handsome Devil
“Yeah, we’re your ride or die, bitch.” Dylan winked.
I reached to hold Cal’s fingertips. “Thank you,” I mouthed. “But it’s not just that. Ever since Tate transferred me to the HR department, I’ve been under the weather. Even today, when I worked from home, I had to fire four people via Zoom. It was dreadful. Some of them have families to feed. One of them was a single mum.” I pressed my lips together. “The single mum…I couldn’t do it. I hired her myself to help me out with Mum.Running errands, doing her nails… It’s not even her profession, though. She’s a bloody IT technician.”
“You’re doing the best you can under the circumstances,” Cal assured me.
“And you’ll find a way to navigate through all this.” Dylan plucked my heels from her feet and screwed them onto mine. “You always do.”
A few minutes later, Cal left my room to go check on Serafina, her daughter.
Then, five minutes after, Dylan got a text from Rhyland to come to the lower floor of the penthouse.
Apparently, their daughter, Gravity, accidentally knocked over a two-million-dollar statue in the living room.
“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.” Dylan kissed my forehead, shaking her head on her way out.
For the first time today, I was all alone.
I glanced at the time on my phone. Quarter past four. We weren’t going to make it to our appointment.
I didn’t even want to marry the blasted man, but the sheer disrespect of it had me reeling. I stared at myself in the mirror, all made up for a clinical, sham wedding.
I tore the expensive gown from my body, the satisfying sound of fine fabric ripping filling my ears.
I threw my closet open and chose the most outrageous pieces of clothing I owned. A pair of tiny Daisy Dukes I had purchased on a holiday in the Bahamas a few years ago and a tacky Disney World sweatshirt that matched my college friends from our graduation trip.
I polished off the rest of the champagne and cried myself to sleep.
“Wake up.”
I knew that voice. It starred in my fantasies and haunted me in my nightmares. Husky. Menacing. Wry as an old bone.
I kept my eyes shut for the sole purpose of provoking him.
“What are you wearing?” he growled, his voice dripping disdain.
I let my eyes flutter open. Tate sat on the edge of my bed, wearing a full-blown tux, his hair freshly cut. He was so handsome he made my heart liquify.
“What’s the time?” I asked groggily.
He pulled his phone out, scowling at it. “Nine thirty-two.”
“At night?”
His flat gaze told me the question was stupid and beneath him.
“Oh.” I sat up straight, immediately perking. “That means the wedding is canceled. Or at the very least delayed! We didn’t make it. I—”
“The wedding’s happening,” he countered. “Thanks to your prayers and well-wishes, my plane had a landing gear issue, and we were stranded in London for a few hours. But I managed to sweet-talk the city clerk into opening the hall for us. Get up. We’re late.”
“What?” I rubbed my fists over my eyes, ruining my eye makeup. “Tate, we can’t get married today. I’m not—”
“You have five minutes.”
“That’s not enough time for me to get ready.” I gestured to my outfit, ruined makeup, and hair, which I had not wrapped in a protective bonnet prior to falling asleep spontaneously.
“I see.” He stroked his chin.
I nodded, exhaling in relief. “We’ll have to resch—”
