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“Wait, why spring?” I started suddenly.

“Our wedding.” He gave me a funny look. “Unless you want to marry this fall. Spring gives ample time to set our affairs in order, move you to LA, and make any other necessary arrangements.”

He spoke as if it were all decided.

My throat constricted. This high-handed maneuvering was exactly why I wanted to return to Chicago in a relationship. David was my pseudo-beard. My cover story. I had my own plans, and here he was, scripting the next chapters. I spent my life being told what to do. It was toxic and oppressive.

Forcing air into my lungs, I refused to be manipulated.

A refusal formed on my tongue, but my brain screamed to pause.

Engagements could be broken.

David could still serve his purpose—to keep my parents from arranging an equally atrocious match for me.

“Alright, David. Let’s get married...in the spring.” That gave me almost a year to write the ending I wanted.

The ending I should have had five years ago. The one that was ripped away from me.

As David slid the massive rock over my finger with the precision of a surgeon, I forced myself not to jerk from his touch.

He wasn’t the one.

No, the one my heart ached for was back in Chicago, ruling the city from his ivory tower. And in just a few hours, I was returning, armed with a plan to win him back.

David was a complication, but I was the master of plots. I would play this twist to my advantage. If that made me a monster for playing with men’s hearts, then heaven could damn me. I knew what I wanted. I was taking it.

If I had to burn the king’s city to the ground to make him see me, I would.

Flickering my finger in the light, I added a stipulation to our deal. “We’ll keep this quiet for a while.”

“I don’t see the need for that.” David held his card to the waiter.

He’s not letting me get dessert.I ground my molars. The chocolate torte here was one of the best in the city!

“My grandmother just died. I need to return to my family, to see how things are. I don’t want to spring this on them,” I insisted.

“Oh, of course.” David’s matter-of-fact tone grated. “Very thoughtful of you.”

Yes, well.... Thoughtfulness as to my parents’ feelings was the last reason.

“You didn’t...ask my dad when he was here for the funeral, did you?” I pressed, already knowing the answer.

“Annaliese, this is the Twenty-First Century. It’s not an attractive quality for men to treat marriage as an archaic bartering.”

Fair point, but a girl should also feel swept off her feet. She should be blown away by a grand gesture. Not handed a half million dollar ring across the table as though sharing a photo on a phone.

I rose. I knew what love was, and this wasn’t it.

I’m taking that back.

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