Page 22 of The Heiress

Don’t get me wrong. This guy is not husband – let alone boyfriend – material, but if I were bored and this was my choice, I might humor him for a night because he’s hot. Hot in that suave, total douchebag way. The kind of guy who would drive you crazy for more than one date and send you running for the hills, but you convince yourself that one night with him wouldn’t be too bad. I mean, that’s what I would think if I wasn’t always thinking about Lorde and wishing she was sitting across from me instead of this ass.

Daddy officially has dementia if he thinks I’m going to marry this guy. He’s such a sleaze in his coded words and mannerisms that I don’t doubt he’s seeing another girl right now. He would probably see quite a few during our fake-ass marriage. Meanwhile, I would be an eternally pregnant, doting wife. Yay.

It’s okay, though. He understands the position I’m in. He also understands what those photos of Lorde and me were about. Do you know what he says? “I’m not so old-fashioned, Daisy. I’d be shocked if my wife was a virgin in this day and age. Let bygones be bygones, right? I know your family is super traditional, though. So if your father ever asks, I’ll protect your honor and tell him that without a doubt you were a virgin on our wedding night.”

This guy’s a winner, folks.

Right in the middle of dessert, Cristiano’s phone rings

“Sorry, I have to take this.” He winks at me. “Could be a few minutes.”

Take all the time you need.

Except.

Except.

When I take out my phone to check for messages in his absence, he bends down and kisses me – right on the lips!

I’m too shocked to shirk him off. Here I am, minding my own business in a restaurant, and the guy the whole world thinks I’m engaged to kisses me in front of God and all his laughing angels.

I sit here, mouth agape, as he wanders off full of himself. Cristiano disappears around the corner, and I hope I don’t see him again for the rest of the night.

In fact? This seems like a great time to leave. I’m gonna pack my bag and stiff the douche with the check. (Like he wasn’t going to pay all of it anyway.) I’ll tell Daddy that, hey, I tried, but I don’t like this guy and he’s completely disrespectful to me. Do you think he’ll believe me? Or care? It’s all I’ve got to go on right now.

That and the fact some woman is sitting down in Cristiano’s place across from me.

Lorde!

Am I seeing things? Have I lost my damned mind? Is my need for this woman so great that I am manifesting her in front of me during one of the most torturous dates of my life? Haha. Who am I kidding? This is Lorde Sheen we’re talking about. She is the one person in the world who would crash one of my dates to rub something in.

“Lorde…” I put my phone down. Before I can say anything else, she raises her hand to silence me.

“Hi. I only stopped by to ask you one thing.” She’s too serious. Lorde is never supposed to be this serious. “Is it true?”

“You mean the engagement?”

“No, Daisy, I mean that hideous dress you wore on the Fourth of July.” So she’s checking for me in the magazines? “Of course I mean the engagement. What the hell else could I mean?”

“If you ask anyone but me, yes, I am engaged to the stuffiest assface in Italy.”

“I’m asking you.”

“No,” I mutter. “It’s not like that at all.”

“That’s what I thought.” For that tone in her voice, she sure isn’t as animated to match it. “I told myself it was ludicrous for you to suddenly be engaged to some schmuck like that. He looked handpicked by your family. You know what? It was easy to convince myself that you weren’t involved with that guy. Then I saw that display of affection between you two.”

“He kissed me without permission.” Something dawns on me. “What are you even doing here? Happen to be in the area?”

“Actually, yes.” Lorde points to a far corner I can barely see. “I was already sitting there when you two walked in. Happy coincidence, huh?”

I wish I could agree. Having Lorde sweep in and change my fate is exactly what I need, but I have a feeling that’s not what’s happening here. “So, you were watching me on my date…”

“Sure. Let’s go with that. I was going to leave well enough alone. In fact, I kept telling myself that I should leave, but I didn’t want you to see me. So I was waiting for you to leave. Then that fucker kissed you and left you high and dry.”

“Ah…”

“Tell me the truth.” She lowers her voice. “Were you screwing with me? Or did we have something special?”

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