The Reluctant Bride (Arranged Marriage #1)(22)

“You’re not the boss of me.”

I chuckle. “You sound like you’re five.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh trust me.” My gaze falls down the length of her body, lingering on her gaping neckline. Those tits I kept talking about the last time we were together aren’t on blatant display, but I see just enough of a curve to be intrigued. “I know.”

She literally stomps her foot, now acting like she’s five. “You’re disgusting.”

“Keep talking, princess. I know you’re just trying to avoid answering the question.” I tug her into me, my hand sliding to her lower back. Soft curves press into my side, obliterating all thought for a minute. She feels good. Fits perfectly. “Fine. Don’t tell me his name. I don’t care about him. I want to know about your list instead, and then I’ll tell you mine.”

“I don’t care about your list,” she retorts.

“I think you might.” I’m getting actual pleasure out of this, giving her shit. “Tell me. What were their names? All of those men you’ve fucked?”

“Such language.” Charlotte gently rests her hands on my chest, her pose deceiving. She might appear to be staring up at me with longing, but she’s really trying to shove me away.

I refuse to budge. And she doesn’t drop her hands either. Of course, Susan is documenting this very moment. She’ll end up with thousands of photos by the end of the session. “You like it.”

“No, I don’t. This conversation is—tacky.”

“I call it getting to know each other.” I smile.

“I call it you being too nosy.” Charlotte shoves with all of her might and I take a simple step back, my hand springing away from her back. Susan makes a disappointed sound. I glance up to catch Louisa watching us with fear in her gaze.

She can tell something’s up. Mother’s intuition in full effect.

“Okay, I can tell you guys are winding down,” Susan says as she approaches us. “Let’s take a few close-up photos of the ring and then call it a day.”

“Ah, the ring doesn’t quite fit—” Charlotte starts but I speak over her.

“Sounds like a plan.” My smile is cordial and Susan beams at me in return. “How do you want us to pose?”

“Why don’t you rest your hand on the bridge rail and your blushing bride-to-be can rest her hand on top of yours,” Susan suggests.

I do as Susan says, waiting for Charlotte to play her part. She’s reluctant to stand close to me, even when I offer her that same smile that worked so beautifully on the photographer only moments before.

My future wife isn’t falling for it.

“I don’t bite,” I tell her with a chuckle. “Only when you ask.”

Susan flat-out laughs. Louisa titters.

Charlotte glares.

That’s the push she needed, because next thing I know she’s standing beside me, her hand settling on top of mine, her fingers still icy cold.

“Grab her hand, but don’t grip it too tightly. Yes, just like that,” Susan says as I lightly clasp Charlotte’s fingers. “Charlotte, slip your index finger out of his hold. Bend your middle finger just so…”

“I’ll show him my middle finger,” Charlotte mutters, so low only I can hear her.

I nearly smile at that remark.

“Yes, yes. Just like that. Incredibly romantic. Really shows off the ring, yet also connects the two of you.” Susan brings the camera up and starts snapping. “Don’t move. Oh wait, yes. Oh my God, Perry, keep stroking her fingers. So sweet! Okay, a few more…and…we’re done.”

Charlotte jerks her hand out of mine, rubbing her fingers absently as she glares at me. “We’re through?” She glances over at Susan.

“Yes, I’ll send over a digital file first thing in the morning. You can look over the portfolio and let me know which ones you want,” Susan explains.

“Can you forward them to me?” I ask Charlotte.

“My mother will be the one getting them.” She waves a hand at Louisa.

“I would love to send them to you. Would your mother care for me to forward them to her as well?” Louisa seems hopeful. For some reason I can tell she wants to befriend my mother.

Caroline Constantine really has no friends. She has acquaintances who know better than to ever cross her. Enemies—plenty of those. Family members who tolerate her. I think she might even take the occasional lover who we never hear a peep from, thank Christ.

“If you send them to me, I’ll make sure she sees them.”

“Wonderful.” Louisa beams, turning her attention to her daughter. “Are you ready to go?”

“Please,” Charlotte says almost desperately.

I stifle the chuckle behind my fist. “See you this weekend, future wife.”

She turns to glare at me. “What’s this weekend?”

“Our engagement party.” When I see the shock wash over her face, I do let the chuckle free. “You forgot.”

“Charlotte,” Louisa chides. “I’ve been planning all week.”

She turns to her mother, her shoulders tense. “You haven’t asked for my help.”

“I don’t really need it, dear. Do you know how many parties I’ve planned in my lifetime?” Louisa’s gaze meets mine. “Saturday night. I’ll send you all the pertinent information.”