Page 10 of Mr. Risky

I picked the phone up.

Hi baby

So excited to marry you today!

Oh my god. Pippa.

My stomach sunk like a stone. She was going to be devastated when the wedding was called off. All those weeks of planning. And no one knew more than me how obsessed she was with Granger.

I’d never seen her like that over a man.

I felt guilty, but there was also a dark thread of triumph running through me that was shameful.

Ever since Pippa had decided we were friends in 2nd grade, she’d always been the winner. At everything. Smarter, funnier, more outgoing, better at dancing, at singing, at everything.

And boys always liked her better.

Sometimes in my more insecure moments, I wondered if she just kept me around for the musical accompaniment. My ability to play the flute and piano blended in well with her beautiful contralto voice.

But even though she was rich, stunning, accomplished, had everything, and I was poor, orphaned, and a nobody in the world, he was still choosing me.

Then the phone rang, and Granger snaked a muscular arm across me to grab it.

“Hello, baby,” he said, his voice rough and low with sleep, and he settled back against the pillows.

Oh no.

What did you do last night? I could hear her ask.

“Nothing, baby, just came back and played games on my phone.”

You weren’t with anyone?

“Of course not. No one.”

I’ll see you over here at Hollingsworth House in an hour or so. Did you remember to pick up your tux?

“Sure did.”

My empty stomach twisted with sick nausea and disbelief.

“You’re still going through with the wedding? But we just spent the entire night together!”

Granger rolled off the bed. God, he was so beautiful, those long, tanned lines of his body, the way his muscles rippled as he stretched.

I wanted to sink my hands into his blonde hair, bite that firm juicy naked ass.

“And? What did you think that meant?”

My jaw dropped, his cruelty almost incomprehensible to me.

“So. . . so. . . you’re just a cheater then,” I said stupidly.

“You think I’m unaware you’re in love with me?” Granger asked coolly, starting the shower. “I wanted you and I took you. Now I’m getting married to my fiancée.”

He wasn’t choosing me at all. He was choosing her all along. Had always intended to choose her.

“I’m not in love with you! I think you’re, a—an asshole,” I cried, but the tears were already gathering in the corners of my eyes.