Page 32 of Princess of Pride
I’ve never done anything like this before. I also don’t want Raphael to get into trouble or his father, and I will keep my word and pay them from my trust fund.
I know this is only a temporary escape from my new role as Lachlan’s wife. If only he’d been gay and harmless—a little weird and aloof. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Instead, he is a sexy seducer and pretender. My body wants him, even though Ihate him with every fiber of my being—mostly because he makes me desire him. Liar! I’m married to a scheming liar!
Wind lashes my bare arms and legs. My skirt flutters at my sides as I cling to Raphael’s waist. I don’t even know where we’re going, but any place is better than where I was. I’ll figure out the rest when we reach our destination. For now, no matter how small a triumph, I take pride in the fact that I left my arrogant husband on our wedding day. I doubt he thought I had it in me, probably picked me because he thought I was the weaker sister. Little does he know how far I’ll go to defy something or someone I loathe. He will now.
8
I PREFER A CHALLENGE
Raphael pulls into a Greenwich Porsche dealer and parks in the back.
Drills and tools sound from a large warehouse revealing a service station. A few workers glance our way, looking confused, but no one’s gaze lingers on us.
Raphael turns off the bike.
“What are we doing here?” I ask in a panic.
If word gets out that a runaway bride on a motorcycle pulled into a Porsche dealer, I’ll be found immediately. My wedding made the local and state news along with a few other cities in New England. Any blue blood will know who I am.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I work here.”
“You do?”
“I service the cars.” He hitches a thumb in the direction of the warehouse.
“I can’t hide here.” My heart batters my ribs again as my panic level soars.
“I’ll get you a ride to wherever you want to go, butI can’t miss work.” He puts out his hand to help me off the bike in the same way he’d helped me get on it at the estate.
“Of course you can’t.” I extract myself and the gown from the bike and let the material fall around my legs. It’s wrinkled in several places. “Thank you.” I hand Raphael his helmet after he climbs off the bike then finger-comb my messy long strands.
He watches me, concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m better now,” I answer honestly. “I’ll figure out the rest.”
“Do you have your phone?”
Elation rushes me when I remember it’s in my hidden pocket. “I do!”
I take it out, tempted to hug it, my lifeline right now. It has my mobile wallet, which is connected to my bank account and trust fund. Without it at my disposal, I would be helpless.
“I owe you money,” I say. “Can I Venmo or Zelle it to you?” Those are also connected to my bank account.
He blinks with surprise. “You don’t have to pay me, Emery.”
“I insist. Please. It’s the least I can do for any trouble this might cause you.”
“Just keep your husband off my back. That man has seriously dark vibes.”
I nod, but I’m oddly not frightened by my egomaniac husband. Just severely annoyed and disgusted by his scheming. I also plan to transfer money to Raphael regardless of his wishes.
“There’s a private bathroom in the garage if you want to use it.” He gestures inside the service station where two men stand watching us. “You can call for an Uber. No one will bother you—unless you need me to get you a ride.”
“No. Thank you. You’ve helped enough.” My stomachchurns with acidic guilt. “I’m sorry for involving you in this. I wasn’t thinking. I just needed to get away.”
His frown holds pity. “I figured. Take care, okay?” He touches my arm and walks off.
“Thank you.” How many times can I thank him?
