Page 154 of Mexico Can Choke On It
There’s nothing physically stopping me from following him to New York. I could learn to be a society woman,couldn’t I? I survived being manhandled into couture by Sebastian Bellini. These fancy clothes barely even itch anymore.
And my tattoos? I mean, I love them, yeah, but I could remove a few. Play the part. For him.
Hell, I’ve got a blowout, been waxed from brow to bum, tried that weird bird snot soup, and even let a freaking dog tell me off! I could watch my language in public and learn to enjoy posh fundraisers, gallery openings, and weekend brunches.
I might have to kiss my law school dreams goodbye. Marrying into his world means trading personal ambition for legacy management, so I wouldn’t be Petra the lawyer, I’d be Mrs. Sterling. Still, I could champion legal aid clinics, homeless shelters, and help teenagers aging out of foster care. I’d convince these billionaires to write checks bigger than their egos.
Bryce’s life is drowning him in expectations. What if I was his escape hatch? His safe harbor after brutal board meetings and family manipulation. The storm he could lose himself in when the Sterling name weighed on him like an anchor.
I could be the girl he comes undone for, not just in bed but inlife.
In a single moment, the fantasy obliterates.
“I trust we’re not intruding on the festivities.”
Reginald Sterling. Bryce’s father.
He is a towering wall of power and intimidation—six feet of silver-haired authority wrapped in a custom Italian wool suit. His ice-blue stare twists my stomach into knots. Those eyes don’t just scan the room; they calculate with ruthless precision, quickly analyzing who’s an asset and who is a liability.
But it’s the woman beside him who turns my blood to ice.
Amanda Tenley is sickeningly, devastatingly perfect—a genetic lottery winner, an angel among mortals, so gorgeous she makes Fiona bland in comparison. Her honey-colored hair falls in flawless waves past her shoulders, and her soft-pink Chanel suit mirrors the soft tint of her lips.
My eyes dart to Bryce. He’s staring at them.
Ather.
“Stop the run-through,” Gavin says, already working his way to them. “Mr. Sterling, what an honor that you could find time to attend our nuptials.”
Reginald shakes my brother’s hand. “The merger of the Whitfields and the Brinkmans? Wouldn’t miss it,” he says. His vulture gaze goes to Bryce. “Son, come give your girlfriend a proper hello. She’s traveled quite a distance to see you.”
Girlfriend?I don’t breathe.
Bryce’s eyes flick to me for a millisecond with a clear message. Panic.
I watch, in horror, as he walks over, leans in, and kisses Amanda on the cheek. My heart doesn’t just crack. It fucking implodes.
Nigel approaches with his usual diplomatic grace. “Mr. Sterling, always a pleasure to have you back at Casa Cashmere.”
“Ah, Nigel. Still running the estate like a Swiss watch, I see.”
“Doing what I can, sir.”
Reginald faces the guests and addresses them like he’s delivering a press release.
“Amanda’s mother no longer needed her care, and when I mentioned the wedding, she was simplydesperateto see Bryce again. We thought it best to surprise everyone and come together.”
I stare in disbelief as her manicured hand curls around Bryce’s arm. “I missed you terribly, darling.”
Darling. Fucking darling.
Fiona floats over to Amanda, wrapping her in an embrace. “Oh my gosh, this is wonderful! Having you here makes things so much more special!” She pulls back with a conspiratorial giggle. “Honestly, Bryce has beenmiserablewithout you. Like, sulkier than usual, which I didn’t think was possible. You’re the only one who can get him out of his infamous moods.”
Wait. She’sthe only one?
That’s when I spot it. The tic. Bryce’s whole body is rigid as a statue, and that finger of his is going absolutely berserk against his thigh—tap-tap-tap-tap-tap…
You should be nervous, you two-timing bastard.
