“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.”
“Is there a theme?”
“Just bring your handsome self,” Louisa chirps.
Charlotte rolls her eyes.
“Can’t wait.” I wink at Louisa, who appears ready to faint. “See you Saturday.”
I leave them where they’re standing, whistling loudly. That wasn’t so bad. Better than I thought it would be.
Maybe this fake marriage racket won’t be so bad after all.
Chapter Eight
Charlotte
Perry Constantine islike a drug.
A dangerous one. The kind that sneaks up on you.
He’s fun and easygoing and easy to talk to. Charming and charismatic and incredibly handsome. He’s intoxicating, luring you in and breaking down your defenses until the next thing you know, you’re on a high and you don’t feel like you’re ever coming down.
At one point, I was having fun at the photography session. I could envision Perry and I together even. It wouldn’t be so bad, I kept telling myself as we bickered. He’d smile, trying to soften me and it actually worked.
Well enough that I almost admitted my affair with Seamus to him. Not that it’s much to admit, but it was enough to leave me destroyed and cause my parents to never trust me alone.
Those months in Paris ruined everything, and it was all my fault for being so trusting. I don’t like talking about it. I never talk about it.
Until Perry.
Coming that close to sharing my biggest secret rattled me. I don’t know him. I can’t trust him. How could I share something so damaging to my reputation, with Perry of all people?
Because you like him. You do.
I shove that shitty voice to the back of my mind, telling it to shut up.
I don’t like him. I don’t like anyone. Just me and my cat and Jasper. That’s all that matters to me. Nothing else.
Not Perry. Not my parents. Not even my brothers. They don’t care about me, why should I care about them?
Why should I care about anyone?
Once I return home, I take a long, hot shower, scrubbing the makeup off my face, washing the curls and hair product out of my hair. I put on my comfiest sweats and pace the bedroom, feeling antsy. Too worked up, too stressed over my unfamiliar and unwanted emotions.
Maybe I should get drunk.
After drinking two whiskey sours and doing a shot of the finest tequila Jasper could find in the house, I march into my father’s home office without knocking. He glances up, seemingly startled by my entry but I don’t let it stop me. I stride right up to his massive desk, bracing my hands on the edge of it as I stare him down.
“I want out of this.”
He frowns. “Out of what?”
My father is not a stupid man. More like he’s the smartest man I’ve ever known and that’s saying a lot, because every Lancaster man I’ve ever encountered is fiercely intelligent.
Almost to the point of it being a flaw. They think they’re above everyone, and in most cases, they are.
They’re also stubborn. Magnetic. Charming. Cunning.