I yank my seat belt on. “Yes, sir.”
EIGHTEEN
ISAAK
I’m strugglingto keep my temper under wraps. I was a bad boy.
I listened in on their conversation outside the mansion. There was nothing the piss-ant could’ve said to make the situation inside any better, but I wanted to hear him try.
Instead of falling on his knees, weeping and begging her forgiveness—not that that ought to have worked, either—he tried some bullshit that took bullshit to a whole new level.
I manage to be quiet for about two whole minutes until the driver hops on the 75 north toward our hotel. “So, did that bullshit he tried back there actually work? You still going to marry that prick?”
Her head whips toward me, mouth open. “That’s none of your business.”
“None of my business,” I huff. “When that fling of his might be chopping up gophers and dropping them in your bed? I don’t know if you heard her or not, but she threatened to kill you on the way out.”
“I think that was more of a threat to kill him.”
“There was an ambiguous threat of murder. Let’s agree on that.”
Kira sighs. “Becca didn’t mean it. She was just mad. Drew has a way of making girls go crazy when he breaks up with them. In tenth grade, Bethany Ann Tomlinson threatened to burn down his house.”
“That’s angry.”
“She had the gas and everything. She stood on his lawn howling at him for a good thirty minutes and managed to burn a quarter acre patch of grass before she was through.”
“Damn.”
“I’m telling you, women have spent nights in jail over this man.”
I snort. “Boy, you mean. I didn’t see a man back there.”
She sighs. “Well, I might have to agree with you on that.”
“Oh yeah?” I perk up. “Finally seeing the light of day?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll still marry him,” she sighs as we exit the highway.
“Why the hell would you do a fool thing like that? It’s clear you don’t love him. And he sure as hell doesn’t love you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You asked the man, and he couldn’t say the three simple words any fiancé ought to be able to tell his woman, with no thought at all.”
“It’s more complicated than that.” She holds her hands to her forehead.
“Nothing should be complicated about love.”
“I’m starting to think marriage has nothing to do with love.” She sighs bitterly. “It’s time I accepted it.”
I stare at the woman, streetlamps occasionally illuminating her beautiful, young face as we get closer to the hotel. “What are youtalkingabout? That makes no fuckin’ sense. What else could it be about?”
“For Drew, I think it’s about power and position,” she says thoughtfully, eyes focused somewhere out the window. “His dad befriended my dad so he’d always have a good friend who could be a wealthy donor for his political aspirations and connect him to other wealthy donors. Drew will follow in his father’s footsteps and be the next generation in a political dynasty. Relationships in this town are only built for what you can use somebody for.”
“And you? What do you get out of marrying that prick.”
She finally looks my way. “Oh, come on, you already know. It’s the oldest motivator of all. Money. If I marry Drew, I get my inheritance. I can open up my own practice.” Her eyes drift back to the skyline. “And I’ll finally be free from my mother. I just have to walk the path a little longer. Then I’ll get everything I wanted.”