Page 35 of The Monster I Loved

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but my father doesn’t take business advice from me,” Brit said.

I expected as much but knew two things. One, Brit loved to rebel, and two, her father would die if she was connected to me (a murderer) in any public way.

I chuckled. “Call the old man and tell him we’re running away to get married.”

Brits’ eyes twinkled. A smile appeared. She retrieved the phone, snapped a photo of us together, and sent a message to her father. Then, she set the phone down. Moments later, it rang.

“I’m ignoring it,” she said, without me asking. “I’m allowing him to rile himself up. Let’s catch up.”

Brit did most of the talking, filling me in on the ten years of life she’d lived while I’d been trapped behind bars.

“I got engaged four times.”

My eyes widened; most people didn’t get more than one. “Four?”

“Yep, men are attracted to rich women. Shocker?” Brit said before taking a sip of bottled water.

I nodded. “Oh, all of them were after your money?”

“That’s what Dad said, and their taking his check in exchange to get out of my life seemed to bring some truth to his claims.”

A sly smile filled my face; it’s as I predicted, her old man hadn’t changed. He’d still do anything to make sure Brit was married to a man of his choosing.

As we ate and caught up, her phone rang constantly.

“Shouldn’t you answer him now?” I asked as she picked at her Greek salad.

“Hell no. Let him stress a bit more.”

Even as a grown woman, she still enjoyed sticking it to her old man just for fun. It was something I’d loved about her when we were growing up.

“So, why are you marrying that lawyer anyway?” she asked with a mixture of confusion and disgust on her face.

“My father thinks I have an image problem,” I replied. “He handpicked her.”

She nodded. “We all have to do what we must to stay in our father’s wills.” She had a faraway look in her eyes for a moment.

“Says the woman who’s been pushing her dad’s buttons since we met,” I teased after finishing a mouthful of food.

After a forty-five-minute meal, Brit accepted the call and pressed the speakerphone button. She dangled the carrot of a murdering son-in-law and, not so subtly, suggested how that was likely to taint his prestigious reputation.

“Fine, Dad, I won’t marry him if you don’t want me to, but you need to withdraw your offer to fund the Starlight building repairs.”

The pause seemed to stretch on forever.

“That’s all you want? And you won’t marry that bastard?” Mr. Jonas asked.

“Yes, Dad, that’s all I want.”

He knew better than to ask why. “Screw it. I can put my money elsewhere and not deal with this headache. Brit, bring your ass home. Now.”

I’d pay anything to be a fly on the wall when Mr. Jonas told Summer he was withdrawing support.

Summer

Fucking pieces of shit.That didn’t take long.

I seethed as I hurled a few bags of Halloween candy into my shopping cart alongside items that proved I was taking my new health kick seriously: salads, lean chicken, and fruit.