Page 15 of Kinks of a Billionaire
My fake smile faded by the time we reached Stuart’s parents—an aged, pompous-looking couple who seemingly couldn’t stand each other, which was so different from my own parents’ relationship. Watching them was like a vision board for my future if I didn’t fix this.
Stuart’s grip on me tightened as he pulled me closer, murmuring in my ear, “Smile, baby mama.” I turned to glance up at him and was met with a smug look. “We’re stuck together forever.”
I could see the blankness in his eyes, the unfeelingness, and goose bumps trailed down my neck. The longer I spent in his company, the clearer I could see his facade crumble. The man beneath the charismatic mask. The man who loved to wreak havoc everywhere he went, no matter with who.
He brushed a soft kiss against my lips, and it took all I had not to wipe my skin clean.
Nodding and saying hello to his parents, a congressman for the state of Delaware and his wife who looked constipated, the music switched back to a soft melody.
I glanced over my shoulder to find Royce leaving the DJ, his eyes meeting mine in a silent show of comfort.
“Ah, my son and future daughter-in-law,” Congressman Harris said in a deep voice. “Tomorrow better be perfection. The world’s watching us.”
Unease dripped down my spine.
Stuart nodded at him but didn’t comment.
“Fix your hair,” his mother scolded. “Discretion is paramount, Stuart.”
Congressman Harris turned his attention toward me, studying me critically. “Your parents got you a dress, right?”
“Yes,” I gritted, my hands curling into fists and my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands. It was another of Mr. and Mrs. Harris’s attributes. They were snobs. My parents weren’t anywhere near as loaded, and I refused to ask them to fork over the funds to cover this elaborate sham of a wedding. A fact that these assholes never failed to remind me of. “And they would have paid for the wedding if we’d kept it small like I wanted,” I reminded him, although I wasn’t sure why I bothered.
I’d made up my mind—Stuart and I would have a heart-to-heart tonight. There was no way in hell I was going through with this wedding.
Chapter 6
Royce
One gentlemanly act changed the course of my life.
Ten years ago, I turned Willow down because she was too young for me. Had too much of the world to still see. I’d known she’d had a crush on me for years back then, but she was my little sister’s best friend. I’d known her during her high school years, when she wore braces and giggled along with Aurora when they saw a boy kissing a girl.
Karma was the ultimate bitch though.
Willow might have fallen for me first, but after that awkward moment ten years ago, she moved on, perfectly content with being friends.
I, on the other hand, had fallen in love with her. Actually, that seemed a pitiful way to describe what I felt. Not only did I fall for her, I continued to trip, trample, and nosedive.
“Fuck this gentleman shit,” I muttered under my breath, bringing my beer to my lips as I watched Willow with her fiancé and his parents. She was too good for all of them, and I knew her well enough to know she couldn’t stand them.
“What was that?”
“Fuck, Rora. Trying to give me a heart attack?” I grumbled as my sister appeared out of thin air. She’d become stealthy—the benefits of marrying a mobster, I supposed. Her husband, Alexei, knew how to hide in the shadows just like my brother Kingston, and it was freaky as fuck.
“You don’t like Stuart,” she stated, tilting her chin at the couple.
“What’s there not to like? He’s a dream come true.”Fucking not.
Aurora laughed, although there was no amusement in it.
"I don’t like him either,” my sister hissed as I watched Willow’s interaction with Stuart’s parents. The congressman’s gaze devoured Willow’s body, and it made me sick. “Ever since Willow started dating him, she hasn’t been the same.”
“Has she said anything to you?” I questioned, my eyes still locked on the woman in question’s sleek auburn hair and slender neck.
“She hasn’t, but trust me, something’s up.”
Tonight, I’d learn what, and I’d get my best friend—my woman—back.
