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Her eyes go to my still very evident erection, then come back to my face. She backs up until she’s leaning against the kitchen counter, bracing her hands behind her. “I’m not the woman you think I am.”
“So you keep saying. I’m getting very tired of this particular conversation, though.”
She blows out a breath. “But it’s true. So yes, parts of our weekend together were real. The sex was amazing. We talked about some real stuff. And I’m very glad that you felt important and got excited about doing something big. But, I am not funor spontaneous or uninhibited or at all able or willing to be involved in a relationship with you.”
“Why not?” I shrug. “You obviouslyarecapable of being uninhibited and having fun. Why can’t you do that with me?”
“Because…” She gives a quick, humorless laugh. “I am actually a pretentious, uptight bitch.”
I blink at her.
I repeat those words in my head.
Pretentious. Uptight. Bitch.
I frown.What?
“What?” I finally ask when nothing else comes to mind.
She moves to cross her arms. “At least I used to be. When I lived here. I spent six years of my life, junior high through high school, being a pretty terrible person. I acted like, actually believed, that I was better than everyone else. I was judgmental, stuck up, and bitchy.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “So I’m here for a second chance. I’m back to try to show people that I’ve changed. To make amends. My goal is to lead a simple, humble life, and show them that I am capable of kindness and being genuine and that I know I’m not better than anyone else. But that means there is no way I can date a semi-famous, incredibly wealthy, powerfulprince. That is the opposite of what I’m trying for here.”
I let all of that roll around in my head for a moment. It’s nearly impossible for me to imagine this woman, who is concerned with women and families having the support they need, who was self-deprecating and funny and sweet the entire time I knew her—okay for the entire fifty-two hours I knew her—is a bitch.
But she does keep telling me that I don’t know the real her.
“So, you don’tactuallyknow me. Which means you can’tactuallybe in love with me,” she says when I don’t speak.
This headstrong, gorgeous little witch. My palm itches with the urge to spank her ass for being so obstinate. She actually thinks she can out-stubborn me? I’ve been resisting the King of Cara for twelve years. Please. I need toshowher that I can be just as…
Wait a second. That’s a great idea. “Okay,” I say. “Prove it.”
She frowns. “What?”
“Prove you’re not the woman I think you are. Make me get over you. Help me get closure on this so that I can go back home and do what my family wants me to do.”
“What does your family want you to do?”
“Get married.”
Chapter 8
Scarlett
Get married.
Of all the things I expected Cian to say, I can admit that those two words were not even in the top hundred.
I blink at him. “Your family wants you to getmarried?”
He nods. “Yes. My grandfather has it all arranged. We were just recently informed of it. Neither of us is into it. But my reason is you. If you’re not actually who I think you are, then I don’t actually have a great reason for not marrying her.”
I am appalled by the stab of jealousy I feel in my gut.
I have no right to feel jealous. But I’m not entirely surprised either.
In another world, if I was another person, I would absolutely want Cian O’Grady for my own. And I would be jealous of any woman who got to have him.
Actually, even in this world, being who I am, I want him and am jealous of anyone who gets to have him.