Page 60 of Spooked

And that was another problem. The only way I could possibly convince my father to back off would be to get a ring on my finger. His mindset was conservative, his views uber-traditional and horribly misogynistic. A woman was the property of her father until she got married, and then she became the property of her husband. Just shacking up with a guy wouldn’t cut it. And he’d do anything to get his way. Think I was exaggerating? He wasn’t the only man who thought like that, and when his friend’s daughter had refused the suitor chosen for her, she’d found herself on a private jet bound for India. I hadn’t seen her for another five years, and by then she was married, mother to three young girls (much to her family’s disappointment), and pregnant for a fourth time in the hope that she’d provide a boy. Another six months passed before I saw her again. Then she’d been in the morgue, dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. It was the only time I’d thrown up during an autopsy.

So, I needed a husband, or I needed to run.

And if by some miracle, Mr. Vale managed to free himself from Carissa’s shackles, he’d have to be a sadomasochist if he wanted to get married again. I was fairly sure he wasn’t into that particular kink.

Hell, why did he have to go and kiss me? Things had been going so well until he lost his damn mind.

“That won’t work, twinny.”

“Well, don’t sweat it for now. One of Pedro’s boarders is going back to Albania in two weeks, and he said I could have the room.”

“Where are you staying at the moment? In the apartment?”

“I found a hostel in Fundão. It’s horribly basic, but it’s clean and super cheap, and I only have to sleep there.”

“How will you get to the project?”

“Polina and her boyfriend are staying nearby. They’ll give me a ride. Plus I found my engagement ring in a bush. Pedro knows a guy with a metal detector, and we looked for, like, three hours and you wouldn’t believe how much trash people throw away. But that asshole told me it was a diamond!”

“Which asshole? Pedro?”

“No, Alfie. Pedro isn’t an asshole. The stone was a cubic freaking zirconia. I got sixty euros for it, which is better than nothing, but if I ever see Alfie again, I’m gonna kick him in the nuts.”

“You’ll have to get in line. I can’t believe he did that to you.”

We’d been friends for two years in Boston, and he’d acted so caring. Started out by giving Meera free caramel syrup in her coffee, then been a true gentleman on dates. He hadn’t even kissed her for two months (she’d texted me right after it happened, swoon, swoon, swoon). And now he’d moved to Lisbon with some random girl he met in a bar?

“I swear I’ll never get serious with a man again,” she said.

“You just said you planned to marry an eco-warrior.”

“Okay, I’m not gonna get serious with a man for at least six months. Maybe I’ll have a rebound fling with a Portuguese stud.”

“Why don’t you focus on the swales for now?”

“Aw, don’t be a killjoy. Go lose your V-card to your hot boss. Wait, does he know—”

“Yes.”

“Wow. How did that come up in conversation?”

“Please, just stop.”

Because I knew Mr. Vale would. I’d said no, and he respected no. He wouldn’t catch me off guard and do a Lance Clifton. Although I wouldn’t mind—

No!

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Meera promised. “Hang in there.”

“Love you, twinny.”

“Love you too.”

CHAPTER24

BRAX

Brax read over the latest email from his lawyer. Carissa had agreed to a provision for his mother—and let’s face it, she owed that much—but now they were haggling over the amount. Carissa had come up from one million to one point five, and Brax had come down from five to four point five. They’d end up settling for three, he knew it, but they still had to play this stupid legal dance first. Otherwise the divorce attorneys wouldn’t be able to afford their golf club memberships, and that would never do.

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