The Reluctant Bride (Arranged Marriage #1)(38)

I think of the kisses we shared at the engagement party. The jolt of electricity I felt when our lips first connected. The little breathy sounds she made. The taste of her mouth. Her tongue.

Yeah.

Maybe.

She acts like she hates me, but I don’t think she does. Not anymore. At first she’d stiffen up every time I so much as looked at her, but now I get why.

Her father is an asshole. He abuses her for Christ’s sake. Of course, she’s going to freak every time a strange dude—me—tries to touch her.

But at our engagement party, she melted under my touch every time I put my hands on her, and she responded to my kisses too. Charlotte wasn’t faking it.

I think she liked it. I think she likes me.

For some weird reason, I want to earn her trust. That girl has been living under her father’s controlling ways for far too long, and she deserves better.

She deserves to be free.

“I want to stay in the city, so I’m closer to work,” I finally answer, turning to face my mother. The sadness that is now clinging to her is palpable, and I wonder if she’s putting it on. A big show for me to feel bad and give in.

I’m not giving in. Not on this point.

Winston and I jumped on a call yesterday with Reginald Lancaster himself. We told him in no uncertain terms that we wanted Charlotte out of the house. He agreed. Didn’t even hesitate. Like he didn’t care where his daughter ended up, as long as she wasn’t his problem anymore.

What a prick.

He even offered up one of their empty penthouses on the Upper East Side, which Winston agreed to without consulting with me first.

Not that I minded. Sounds like this giant penthouse is going to be a lot better than where I’ve been staying when I’m in the city. Charlotte and I will need all the space we can get.

“I just hate the thought of never seeing you here anymore. You’ll become too busy to come out and visit.” Mother stands a little taller, lifting her chin. “We’ll need to start looking for a house here for you two.”

“Right now? We’ve got a lot going on with the wedding plans, you know.” I open the top drawer of my dresser and spot a small baggie of weed I must’ve left behind God knows when.

I immediately shut it. Don’t need her seeing that.

“Oh, my darling, it thrills me so to hear you talk about your wedding.” I lift my head to find her gazing at me with tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re getting married.”

This is ridiculous. The only reason I’m getting married is because she’s basically forcing me to. And now she’s feeling sentimental?

“Yeah, me either,” I mutter as I pull open the next drawer to find a bunch of socks stuffed inside. How many socks does a man need? Apparently a lot.

I shove the drawer shut and go to my walk-in closet.

“Perry!” Mother snaps, making me pause at the closet entrance. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Well, yeah.” I turn to face her. “I can’t think about any of it. I can’t think about anything else but moving out of here. Then I need to go to work—and show up late. Win isn’t going to be happy with me.”

She waves her hand, dismissing my worry. “He’ll understand.”

About as well as she does, which is not very well at all.

“Right. Sure, he will. After dealing with his bad mood all damn day thanks to his obvious disgust with me for being late, I’ll be putting out fires everywhere since I’m pretty decent at schmoozing people on the phone and convincing them it’s never as bad as they think it is. Then I have to go home. To my new home—my new apartment, something I didn’t even get to pick out, so who knows if I’ll even like it. And then I get to spend the rest of my evening with my fiancée. Who still treats me like the enemy.” I blow out a harsh breath at the end of my mini-speech, frustrated with my mother. Work. My family.

My fiancée.

“I don’t want you to move out. Can’t you give it some reconsideration?” Her tone is pleading.

“No, the decision has already been made. I can’t live with you forever. I’m a grown-ass man who’s about to get married.”

She takes a step toward me, going into soothing-mother mode. “It’s a lot, I know, Per Bear.”

Holy shit, she hasn’t called me that in years. I can’t believe she’s pulling out the big guns with the affectionate nickname from my childhood.

“Let’s get through the wedding first, and then you and Charlotte can meet with my real estate agent. Meanwhile, I’ll have her gather up some properties that are newly listed, and I’ll look them over for you. If I find the perfect home before the ceremony, I might just make an offer. You know I won’t be able to resist.”

My mother doesn’t listen to a damn word I say. “No. I don’t want you choosing my house, or buying one without me seeing it first. I don’t even want to live in Bishop’s Landing. Like I just told you, I’d rather be in the city.”

“But—”

The explosion comes out of nowhere.

“Stop trying to control every single move I make!”

Well, the explosion came out of me.

I’m done with this.

Done with my mother controlling me.

Done with living under her thumb.