Page 23

I stood there for what felt like an eternity.

It was over.

Whatever Matias and I had, it was officially done, and my heart withered inside.

Some part of me knew it would never work out, not when everything happened with Chelsea, but I had hoped.

I had hoped that she would get better, and that things would be different.

But that’s the problem with hope…it was empty.

Nothing but an illusion of something that never existed in the first place.

Just your mind playing tricks on you, making you think that there was something better on the other side.

I closed my eyes as tears rolled softly down my cheeks.

My heart slowed, finally coming down from the rush of my encounter with Matias as the sorrow piled into it, weighing it down like bricks of grief.

I inhaled slowly through my nose and held my breath.

There wasn’t much I could do now. Matias made his choice, and mine was made for me. It was done.

With a sigh, I breathed out the weight I felt in my chest, opening my eyes.

I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on the clock.

It was almost time for dinner, and I still had to get ready.

The last thing I needed was a pissed off Marissa on top of all the other crap.

I would need to grieve my loss later. Right now, I had bigger problems—I had to focus on playing the part of the doting fiancé, and that role didn’t line up with being heartbroken over a recent break-up.

Shake it off, Mara.

Resolving myself, I got ready for dinner.

The shower was easy enough to figure out.

I only melted my skin off two or three times.

No big deal. And then I faced the closet and its multitude of skirts, pants, shirts, shoes, dresses, and every accessory money could buy.

I wasn’t going to lie, it was a little intimidating.

In Telvia I had lots of clothes, but this was ridiculous.

Made worse by the fact that I had just spent most of the spring and summer living in tactical gear, cargos, and t-shirts.

Having this many options suddenly felt overwhelming.

And don’t even get me started on the undergarments.

I was afraid to even come close to the skank trap Edith set up for me.

I just wanted a regular bra and underwear.

I wasn’t interested in lace, ribbons, and G-strings.

To my relief, I found a small collection of regular intimates.

The kind that are actually comfortable and every girl secretly prefers wearing when she’s not fishing for a dude. Granny panties for the win!

I wasn’t sure what dinner consisted of at Castle Calvernon, but I suspected it wasn’t anything too different from Telvia—except for the food situation, of course.

When I was little, I attended a Council function wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

And my parents flipped a lid on me. The lecture that day comprised of always being dressed to impress and better to be overdressed than underdressed . It was a mistake I never made again.

Opting to keep my butt from being chewed out for being too casual, I opted for a black pencil skirt that rested at my knees and a white, scoop neck top that fit my upper body nicely.

A pair of black leather flats completed the simple outfit.

Not too fancy, but just nice enough. I ran the brush through my hair, feeling the silky strands flow through my fingers until all the knots disappeared, and left my hair down.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I didn’t have it tied up tightly in a regimented bun.

I’d been living in the barracks for so long, I’d forgotten what it was like to wear normal clothing and have my hair loose and flowing, resting along my back.

There was something freeing about it. Something that felt good to be out of the regimented army life I’d been growing accustomed to.

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound startled me. A quick glance at the clock showed me it was dinner time, which meant this was probably the staff member that was supposed to show me the way to the dining room.

I took in a deep breath, feeling the twinge of my lungs being overextended, and held it, counting to four before slowly letting out my breath.

My stomach grumbled, but not from hunger, from angst. I had a monumental job to do.

I had to put on a show like I’d never done before in my life.

And, as far as I was concerned, I wasn’t a good actress.

How the hell was I going to convince these people that I was going to marry their son when I had every intention of hightailing it out of here the moment my brother was safe? That was a tall order.

But I had done this before, right? I lived my whole life in Telvia pretending I was the beloved daughter of the presidential family. Not the bastard child I really was—the great disappointment that hid her marks of shame under expensive trappings and pretty smiles.

I could do this. I could convince them.

But what about Wes?

My heart seized at the thought. He was going to be the hardest one to persuade. He had a knack for unraveling me and leaving me sputtering like an idiot. The thought of deceiving him, of convincing him of something that wasn’t real…it didn’t feel good. It felt downright wrong .

Knock, knock.

I looked at the door. “Coming.” I couldn’t deal with all of this right now.

Right now, I just had to focus on being nice and polite.

I could do that. Just smile and nod. When I had time later, I could figure out the rest of it.

For now, it was just smile and nod. With another deep breath, I walked to the door and opened it.

Tall, lean legs clothed in black slacks stood before me, with hands nestled into the pockets in a relaxed pose.

As my eyes rose, they were greeted by a tight-fitting black shirt with sleeves that hugged the curves of his biceps in the most delicious way.

And eyes…those hazel eyes that ensnared me every time—gorgeous amber, flecks of green, and liquid gold.

Wes’s blond hair was combed back into a low ponytail, making him look older, smoldering, and dangerous.

Everything about him was clean, smooth, and crisp.

Mature and tasty. And I realized suddenly that I was at a loss for words.

My heart fluttered, thumping to an irregular beat that had me feeling unsteady on my feet.

It took me a second to realize I was standing there, staring, with my jaw hanging wide open.

Because Wes…well, he looked good. Like, really good, and the total lethal attraction I felt was pooling deep inside of me.

Oh holy mother…

“What took you so long?”

“Huh?”

Wes shifted his weight as he pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms. “Did you get lost finding the door or something?”

It wasn’t a real question, and it dripped with sarcasm.

Typical Wes. Always ready with a verbal quip made to make you feel like an idiot.

I had to get a grip. One second I’m grieving over the loss of a guy that was never really my boyfriend to begin with, and the next I’m slobbering over a sexy beast at my door. Get your shit together, Mara!

Wes cocked an eyebrow at me, but his expression remained blank. “Mara?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I’m just a little overwhelmed, you know? New house,” I tugged on my shirt, “new wardrobe, lava shower…you know, all that stuff.”

His eyes flickered a moment, but his brow dropped as he stepped back away from the door. “Yeah, I can see that.” An awkward second ticked by before he cleared his throat. “I was told to come get you for dinner. Ready?”

“I’m ready.” I looked away from him, trying my best to regain some of my composure as I stepped out into the hallway. I was so not ready.

Wes held out his arm in front of him, motioning me in an after you gesture before placing his hands back in his pockets.

With a deep breath, I took the steps before me, unease replacing the attraction in my stomach.

He fell along beside me, walking quietly, which only magnified the awkward experience.

As we walked down the hall, a thought resurfaced.

How much did Wes know? Did he know why I was living with them now?

Did he know he was supposed to marry me?

And if he knew, how long had he known? What did he think about it?

Was he totally pissed off? Or…or was he fine with it?

Or… happy ? Conflicting emotions fluttered through me, and I shuddered at what the possible answers could be.

“Cold?”

My thoughts interrupted, I looked at him and almost gasped when I caught his smile.

I seldom saw Wes smile. He was always pissed off about something, or scowling.

But when he smiled, it softened him, made him look devilish and handsome.

He was always so strong, like a rock that could never be shattered.

But when Wes smiled, it brought out his humanity, and that was my favorite part.

“A smile looks good on you,” I ventured.

His eyes widened for a second before his brows furrowed in confusion. “What? I always smile.”

I scoffed. “Oh yeah, sure you do. You’re like, the worst at smiling.”

He stopped, facing me as he pulled his hands out of his pockets. “I smile,” he asserted defensively.

“Not often,” I teased, stating the obvious, taking only another step or two before turning to face him.

He grew serious, his gaze drifting to the floor. “Well, maybe there’s not much to smile about.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was he talking about me? About having to marry me? I opened my mouth, the words hanging on the tip of my tongue before he spoke.

“Come on, we’re going to be late for dinner.” He started walking past me as my mouth hung open, the questions stuck in my throat.

I had to know. I needed to know what I was dealing with, and how hard it was going to be. “Wes?”