Page 3 of The General's Bride

Paris lifted a brow. “I seriously doubt that, but it’s nice of you to say so.”

“Be safe.” Carol gave her a hug before going to join the rowdy group on the other side of the bar.

Paris sighed, throwing a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and grabbing her purse.

The subway ride home for once was peaceful. It was after rush hours, and she was able to get a seat for the duration of the ride. It was a cool summer night, and the three blocks Paris walked from the subway station to her upper Manhattan apartment was pleasant. Once inside, she happily kicked off her high heels.

Her tiny efficiency was only four hundred and fifty square feet, but in this neighborhood, it cost the earth. Still, it had a great view of the city, and it was her very own corner of the world. It was the first place she’d had all to herself. Nearly every inch of space was covered with furniture and knickknacks, making the place seem smaller, but she loved it.

Paris grabbed a bag of cheese curls and flipped on the television before flopping down on her daybed. The documentary about the discovery of new planets was in its final minutes. She cursed herself for forgetting to record it. Lately, she’d been fascinated with all things space and she didn’t have the faintest clue why. It made sense to her that mankind wasn’t the only intelligent lifeforms out there. It was an arrogant assumption that Earth was the only planet in the entire universe with functioning societies.

When she was younger, she dreamed of being an astronaut and exploring the deep recesses of space but without theencouragement of a loving family, she’d given up on that idea and had gone the practical route. Space travel hadn’t crossed her mind again until she’s stumbled on this program.

Once her show was over, she trudged to the bathroom to begin her nightly ritual of brushing her teeth and showering.

Totally boring.

When had her life become so lame? “Paris,” she spoke to her reflection in the mirror. “What you need in your life is a little excitement.” She studied her image. Large, slightly tilted dark brown eyes stared back at her in a medium brown face. Paris tucked a strand of her shoulder length black hair behind her ear. She’d recently gotten a silk press to change things up, but she preferred her natural curls.

Her lips were large and bow shaped, and nose tip-tilted and slightly wide. She hit the gym three times a week to maintain her hourglass figure. If there was one thing, she could change about herself it would be her height.

Five-foot-four wasn’t tiny, but the short jokes she received most of her life were something she could do without. Overall, Paris supposed she was an attractive woman, but in her opinion not so much as to receive all the attention she did at the bar tonight.

What was it with men? Did some kind of sensor go off in their heads when they knew a woman wasn’t interested? Why did they assume a woman couldn’t get by without them in their lives? It wasn’t that she disliked men. That wasn’t the case at all, but she’d yet to find one who excited her enough to take a chance on.

The ones she had dated fell into four categories: mama’s boys, conceited jerks, or men who only wanted to get in her pants. And her least favorite kind —the men who wanted know what you were bringing to the table, when they couldn’t afford a table. They were the type of men who expected a woman to be perfect in every way. Beautiful, accomplished, financiallyindependent and intelligent. Meanwhile, they had three baby mamas, bad credit and questionable hygiene.

What the hell?

Paris had her fair share of that last type of guy.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in love. At one point in her life, she’d desperately craved it. But time and time again, she’d faced one let down after another. She’d been cheated on, lied to and disappointed in general. Dating for her was just one let down after another for her.

Where were all the nice guys that claimed to be out there? She saw other happy couples out there, but it just wasn’t happening for her. So here she was. Single and resigned to a fate of possibly dying alone. Besides, it wasn’t so bad. At least if she remained alone, she wouldn’t get hurt again.

Could the problem lay with her? Perhaps she was too picky, but was it so wrong to have standards? “You’re going to be an old lady by yourself,” she said to her reflection. It was just as well. She’d been alone most of her life. Why should the rest of it be any different?

Twenty years ago, at the age of two, her life was irrevocably changed when her mother and sister went missing. Some would think she wouldn’t have such clear memories from such an early age, but she did.

Paris recalled the night her mother had taken her sister London to the doctor. She’d wanted to go, crying when she didn’t get her way. Paris had been left with the babysitter. When they never returned, she was shattered. She’d stayed with the babysitter for some months, for how long she couldn’t remember exactly, until she was placed in a home for orphans. That part of her life went by in a blur. Some of the people in the foster homes she’d lived in were nice, some not so much, but they all had one thing in common: eventually she was separated from them.

Because of that, she’d built a protective shell around her heart. Not a day went by when she didn’t think about her mother and sister. When she was old enough to research their disappearance, Paris had learned the authorities had found her mother’s car turned over at the side of the road, but no bodies. Police suspected foul play. In her heart, she didn’t want to believe they were dead, but all evidence pointed to that theory.

It wrenched at her gut to think about them and how different her life would have been if they hadn’t disappeared. Would she be so closed off to others, mistrustful and cynical? She’d give anything to be the carefree person a woman her age should be. After all, she had a decent job as an underwriter for a large insurance company, her own place and enough money in her savings account to treat herself with luxuries every now and then.

But that hole in her heart from the disappearance of her mom and sister remained. There were times, Paris wished she’d gone missing with them. At least then they’d be together.

Turning away from the mirror, she undressed and stepped into the shower.

Yep, she definitely needed some excitement in her life.

Chapter

Two

The DNA tracker beeped louder with each step he took. He was getting close. This device normally used for hunting back home had come in handy. He wished however, that his ship could have pinpointed his target’s location to a smaller radius so that he could have tracked her down by now.

Nonetheless, Princess London would be captured by day’s end, and he could call this mission successful.

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