Page 90 of Ruined Vows
She nods solemnly. “True. Efficient. He’s a man with unlimited resources. Good. I like where your head is.”
The waiter brings over a dragon roll and some spicy tuna. Joanne waits until he’s out of earshot before leveling me with her most dangerous weapon—her concerned voice.
“So,” she says, taking a bite, “what’s your real plan?”
I blink. “What?”
“You said you were going to ruin him. Break him. Ten dates, emotional terrorism, slow psychological death—remember?”
“I do.”
“So what’s with the‘I’m taking a silk robe and matching panties’energy I’m getting right now?”
I groan. “I’m still in control,” I lie.
Joanne snorts. “You agreed to three days with him. Alone. Off-grid. That’s not control, babe—that’s hope with extra lipstick red smeared on it.”
I stab a piece of tuna. “I want to know what he’s hiding.”
“And what if what he’s hiding is just… the fact that he likes you?”
I look up. She’s serious.
“I don’t need him to like me.”
She tilts her head. “But youwanthim to.”
I hate her. I hate her even more because she’s not wrong.
“He looks at me like he’s already chosen me, in a very intimate manner,” I whisper.
“And you hate that?”
I shake my head slowly. “I hate that I don’t.”
Joanne reaches across the table and steals a piece of my roll.
“You’re in trouble,” she says around her mouthful. “Big trouble. Delicious trouble. Hot, morally compromising trouble.”
I glare at her. “If I die on this trip, make sure my family doesn’t pick my funeral outfit.”
“Please. I already have three black dresses ready. You’d want to look powerful.”
“And expensive.”
“And slightly scandalous.”
We clink glasses.
“Just promise me,” Joanne says, serious again, “if you start falling for him… do it with your eyes open.”
I nod. But deep down, I already know— My eyes have never been more open.
Andthat’sthe problem. He’s handsome, distinguished, andunlike the boys I had in Europe. He’s a patient man who knows what he wants.
And he wants me. Out of all the women who would love to be married to him, he choseme.
That speaks volumes.
