The Reluctant Bride (Arranged Marriage #1)(26)

“Plenty of people,” Mother says indignantly. “All of your father’s business associates and friends. Our family. I’ll submit the photos and announcement to a few of those society pages as well. I’m sure they’ll share it.”

“If our wedding ends up in one of those New York Bride magazines or whatever they’re called, I’m going to be pissed,” I threaten, not that she cares.

Mother laughs, proving my point. “Darling, you’re so sensitive. This is how it works. We have to spread the word. Thank God these photos turned out so well. Witnessing the two of you together trying to interact while at the shoot, well…I was worried.”

Her words send a streak of fear through me. We’re supposed to look a part, and I’ve been fighting it pretty much every step of the way, when I should be trying my best to get out of here and away from my father’s control.

What if Perry convinces his family that he doesn’t want to be with me after all and breaks the contract? Will I be to blame?

If we fall apart, will this all be on my head?

While I gnaw my lower lip raw with worry, Mother keeps clicking through the endless photos until she’s finally in the clutched-hands segment of the session. I study each of them, trying for indifference, but memories swarm me of the way his fingers felt on mine. How loosely he held my hand, how gentle his touch was.

Nothing like what I was used to from the males in my family.

Specifically, my father.

How easily those long fingers curled around mine, as if we’d held hands forever.

Ridiculous.

But also…comforting.

I can’t stop looking at that showy diamond on my finger. The moment I came home from Central Park, I dropped the ring into the jewelry box I keep in my closet and forgot all about it. It’s meaningless.

A prop.

Just like my life.

Mother clicks into the gallery of photos and selects one, the image huge on her screen. “This is the one I want to use for the announcement. What do you think?”

I’m about to tell her I don’t care but I get caught up in the way Perry’s watching me. The expression on his face, his lips curved into a half smile. His attention is all for me and no one else, and that’s something I’m not used to.

Maybe that was my problem yesterday. I’m not comfortable with all of that puppy-dog energy Perry exudes focused on me. Even if it’s fake, the warmth in his eyes in that photo makes my skin grow warm.

He doesn’t think I’m a prop.

Perry Constantine looks at me as if I might be someone special.





Chapter Nine




Perry


Slowly but surely the family trickled into Bishop’s Landing, here for the weekend to celebrate my and my blushing bride’s engagement party. Constantines are everywhere, many of them staying at our family home in Bishop’s Landing. Mother called me home Thursday night, saying I shouldn’t stay in the city one more minute. I needed to be home with family, preparing for my impending engagement party, and do my part in contributing to the upcoming wedding day.

What a fucking joke.

I have no clue what she’s referring to in regards to the wedding. Isn’t that just women’s stuff?

Not that I would ever say that out loud. All the women in my family would come for me, teeth bared.

Mother did make an appointment for my brothers and me at our father’s favorite suit shop in Bishop’s Landing to get fitted for our tuxedos for the ceremony. The morning before my engagement party, my brothers and I rode together over to the shop, both Keaton and Winston grumbling the entire time.

Bunch of grouches. Winston was pissed he wasn’t in the office. Keaton was pissed in general.

Me? I’m the one who should be the most pissed of all, being forced to marry an uptight little supposed nonvirgin who recoils every time I touch her. Our marriage ought to be a lot of fun.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

“Why didn’t she schedule this appointment on a Saturday?” Winston says once we’ve all climbed out of his car. He wouldn’t let me drive.

Figures.

“She wants us home,” I say.

“It’s the last place I want to be,” Keaton adds, glowering at us.

“I canceled meetings,” Winston goes on as we head toward the shop. “Important ones.”

“Blame Mom, not me,” I remind him. “And I’m not the one who wanted to get married. You guys forced it on me.”

“We didn’t force you to do shit,” Winston snaps.

I keep my mouth shut, not in the mood to fight over this. The moment the owner, Benny, sees us enter his store, he calls out to us, a giant smile on his face.

“Three Constantines in my store, what an honor!” he says, his focus entirely on Winston. “How are you, son?”

Winston grits his teeth, most likely hating how Benny just called him son. No other man was able to do that besides our father. “We’re wondering why we have to be fitted for new suits when all three of us already own tuxedos.”

“I don’t,” Keaton pipes up, earning a stare from the both of us. He shrugs his broad shoulders. “What, I don’t. I never wear ’em.”

“Not even to a school dance?” That’s how I got my first tux.