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Isla
I stare, sure I haven’t heard him correctly. "Eh? What are you talking about?" I shake my head as if that might clear it. "If this is some kind of joke—"
"Not a joke." He slides his hand into the pocket of his tailor-made slacks. "There’s no way I’m not going ahead with that wedding. And I do need a bride. Ergo—" He tilts his head as if his words are self-explanatory.
"I’m afraid you’re making no sense."
His lips twist. "Oh, you definitely need to be afraid, but of the repercussions from turning me down.”
I scowl. "This entire conversation is fascinating but as you can see" —I gesture to the computer in front of me— "I havemiles to go and promises to keep."
"Quoting Frost won’t change the fact that you’re going to be marrying me in" —he pulls back his coat sleeve, exposing a watch that I have no doubt cost more than the annual rent of my office, and which is nestled amidst a smattering of dark hair on his thick wrist— "exactly forty hours."
A shiver of something—excitement, apprehension, nervousness, disbelief... maybe all of the above—ripples under my skin.
"I think you’d better leave."
"I thinkyou’dbetter start making preparations to make things up to me." Bastard’s grin widens. He’s enjoying himself at my expense, no doubt about it.
Anger bubbles up, and I tamp it down. I can’t afford to lose my temper. Liam Stick-in-the-mud Kincaid may not be utilizing my services any longer, but he’s one of the most powerful men on this continent—in the world, even—and the last thing I want is to make an enemy of him. I curl my fingers into fists, draw in a breath, then another. When I finally speak, my tone is even. "What things? I don’t have anything to make up to you."
"Oh, but you do. It’s because of you my bride decided to jilt me at the altar—"
"You didn’t reach the altar," I point out.
"Semantics—"
"Are everything." I allow myself a small, tight smile. I’m not going to let this gazillionaire-McGrumpy walk all over me. I have a couple of weddings to plan right after this one. They are nowhere near as high profile as Lila’s but they’ll keep me busy for a while. All the more reason to get this stuck up wanker out of here.
"Which is why I can’t marry you."
His eyes darken further. "Sure you can."
"I can’t, I’m already married."
He lowers his gaze to my left hand before I have a chance to cover it.Shit, shit, shit.
"So, you’re not only a bad friend, but you’re also a bad liar."
I shoot up to my feet. "I’m not a bad friend. I’m a good friend. The kind who dared to tell Lila exactly what she needed to hear when no one else had the guts to tell her the truth."
"You ruined her life."
"I gave her a chance to live life on her own terms, and I’m not a liar."
He smirks. "You lied that you were married."
"I am married."
"You’re not wearing a ring."
"Plenty of married women don’t wear rings."
His smile grows broader, and it’s not a nice one. My stomach churns. Why do I get the feeling that I’ve walked into a trap?
He leans forward on the balls of his feet. "Isla Wilson, twenty-five, university dropout. Mother and brother live in Lymington. You had a happy childhood… until your father died of a heart attack when you were eighteen. A fact that made you decide to drop out of college and travel the world."
"That’s very presumptuous of you to think one was linked to the other."
