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Talia glances back at me, a ripple of distaste crossing her pretty face. "And what role is that?"
"You’re supposed to be my flawless bride. Look at your competition. Take Daisy, for example."
A sour look pulls out her lips. "I’d rather not."
"You should consider her a good candidate for comparison, though. She might not be to your liking, but she is exactly what I need you to be. She’s poised, elegant, and always dressed for the occasion, whatever it is. Her hair, nails, and skin are perfect. Her makeup is tasteful."
She gives a cold little laugh. "Maybe you should try to woo Daisy back, then."
Putting my sandwich down, I spread my hands on the counter and look Talia in the eye. "You’re going to have to measure up—and not just to Daisy. But by the Morgan standard, that is impossibly high. You are the soon-to-be fiancée of a young, handsome billionaire. To be frank, you look like a street urchin right now."
I don’t miss the flash of hurt that echoes in her eyes. She turns away, her hands tightening into fists. Her tone when she speaks is dripping with sarcasm.
"I’m sorry that I am so displeasing to you. It must be a terrible burden to have to remake such a bumpkin like me."
I cross my arms and try to keep my temper in check.
Talia turns her head, her gaze flitting over me as if weighing my value.
"Don’t fight me on this. It’s not a battle that you want to enter. We have unlimited resources. So, use them for once, and don’t be a drama queen," I grit out.
She curls her lip and starts to leave the room once more. I watch her figure as she heads down the hallway, soon disappearing.
I know I was just telling her what needed to be said, but a small part of me wonders if I was too harsh. It is my goal to marry her, convince everyone that she is all that I have claimed she is, and ultimately to claim the prize. Morgan Drilling and the massive fortune that will be mine at the end of this long, winding road. So, what if there are a few bumps as I carry her up the hill?
Taking a deep breath, I pick up my sandwich again.
When I find her again an hour later, she is sitting in the large sunroom, staring vacantly into space while she sits on a white couch.
I glance out at the view of the ocean, the fading light throwing long shadows over the insulated double-walled glass of the sunrooms' exposed windows that make up three quarters of the room. I clear my throat and she seems only then to notice me, sitting up a little straighter on the couch.
"What, is the glam squad here already?"
I step into the room and sweep my gaze over the scene. "The glam squad will be here within the hour, I’m told."
She looks less than enthused. "Great. What do you need me for, then?"
I make a gesture with my palm. "Stand up. Let me have a look at you."
Spreading her hands on her chair, she lifts herself off the couch and does a spin, turning herself around three hundred and sixty degrees. "Does this please you, my lord?"
The sarcasm in Talia’s tone hits me like a stone wall. My lips twist as I give her an assessing gaze, my eyes traveling up and down her petite form. She’s wearing her oversized coat, some sort of ill-fitting black skirt that hangs down well below her knees, and a pair of army boots. I purse my lips and shake my head.
"To be honest? Not really. All your clothes need to be burned."
The snotty smirk on her lips is wiped away, quickly replaced by a scowl.
"They are perfectly good clothes."
"For a commoner, maybe, but you’re not a commoner anymore. That’s what I’m trying to get through your skull. When you dress yourself, you must remember that you are representing me."
I wave to my body, plucking my lapel and straightening the cuff of my Oxford shirt.
"I take great pride in the way I dress. This suit?" I pinch the collar of my jacket between my fingers. “This is a bespoke wool suit from Italy. It’s handmade and costs at least ten thousand dollars. This shirt? It’s made of Egyptian cotton and silk, making it the nicest button-up that money can buy. The same goes for my shoes. They are custom-made to fit my feet, and I have one hundred pairs of them. Looking like you belong is almost as good as actually belonging."
Talia stands up and moves towards the window, masking her expression or perhaps just gazing outside while she mulls over my words.
"So what? What is it that you want me to do?"
