Page 126 of Unwritten Rules

“Are you an actress, by chance?”

Her face screws up like she’s just eaten something sour. “I beg your pardon?”

I quirk a brow. “Just wondering. I mean, you’re doing a stellar job of acting like a complete cunt.”

She laughs at my jibe, throwing me off-kilter with her unexpected reaction, and suddenly I’m on edge.

“Why exactly are you here, Zara? From what I can gather, you’re not welcome.”

She regards me for a long moment, almost making me squirm under her perusal until her face lights up as though she’s just had an epiphany.

“I was here to see Nate; however, you’ll do just as nicely. In fact…” Her eyes shine with nothing less than malicious intent. “You’re an even better option.”

A shiver of foreboding runs down my spine when she steps closer.

You’re just paranoid.

She reaches into the large Prada tote bag on her shoulder, pulling out a thick brown A4 envelope and waving it around with a flourish.

“I’m assuming Nate has disclosed the details of my late husband’s will, yes?”

She smiles even wider when I slowly shake my head, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, this just gets even better.” She preens.

“Okay, so Xavier didn’t leave the estate to Nate, no strings attached. No, no, no. Why do you think I was given the Gate House?”

Before I can answer, she answers for herself. “Because the Gate House is tied to the peerage. And the peerage is tied to Hawthorne House, to the estate as a whole. All except that shitty little Lake House where Nate’s mother lived.”

“Where she lived?”

“Oh, you really don’t know anything, do you?” She sighs exaggeratedly. “Ana De La Cruz was practically born to become the wife of Xavier Hawthorne. Her bloodline was impeccable. She brought riches beyond belief to the ailing estate. But their families didn’t foresee how much she hated the man who would be her husband. That definitely threw a spanner in the works…”

She trails off in thought as my mind whirls to catch up.

“Anyway, I’m not here for a history lesson, Mira—”

“It’s Mila.”

She shoos me away impatiently as I clench my fists so as not to hit the bitch. “Whatever. The point I’m making is that by gifting us…I mean that by gifting me the Gate House, Xavier made sure that I had a tie to the peerage that Nate is unworthy of. But unfortunately, the estate’s paperwork dictates that he is technically the heir, so the only loophole that Xavier and I could come up with was marriage.”

I can’t help the grimace that lands on my face. “Marriage? What the actual fuck—”

“To me, obviously, dear. The stipulation in Xavier’s will states that for Nate to retain his peerage, and by proxy the home and estate tied to said peerage, he must marry me, as I hold sole ownership of that pesky little Gate House.”

I blink stupidly as I will my slow brain to absorb this newfound knowledge.

“He must marry you? Are you shitting me? This isn’t 1852, Zara. Get fucked!”

“Ah, but sweet Mina—”

“It’s Mila, you absolute knob end. Should I spell it out using crayons?”

“It’s inconsequential, actually. Because you won’t be here much longer.”

I snort. “You think Nathaniel will give us up for a shitty estate and a peerage he has fuck all interest in retaining? You’re a Grade-A idiot. Now, get out. You’re giving me a migraine.”

Turning back to a sleeping Wetherby, I sit back in my seat by his bed, only to be disrupted once more by her nauseatingly fake sweet voice.