Page 23 of Marry Lies
Not only am I stuck in this ostentatious castle for a year, but I also have to navigate sharing a bathroom with Miles.
I push the thought away for now.
When I’m done getting ready, I grab my water bottle before heading into the living area. Later today, I have a couple of meetings with Threads, the charity that Miles met with yesterday. But I have the morning free, which means I have time for my morning walk. Just as I glance at my phone, a note on the dining table catches my attention.
Estelle,
Had to go out of town for a last-minute business meeting.
See you Thursday.
Miles
It’s the least personable note ever, and I crumple it up and throw it into the bin before departing the living quarters. I was two sheets to the wind last night between the cocktails and jet lag, so I hardly had time to take in my new surroundings. I assumed the Ravage family was wealthy last week during lunch, but after a bit of research, I learned that Miles isn’t just rich. He’srichrich.
As in, my future husband is a billionaire.
When I touched down in Los Angeles yesterday, I’d been too angry after Wendy’s message to see straight—especially because of how Miles acted last week.How dare he?I’d spent the forty minute drive positively fuming. And it felt good to hear him grovel. He’d messed up, after all.
Still, I can’t believe I agreed to marry him.
I told myself I never wanted to see him again. I told myself that I’d get the last word in, that I’d tell him how messed up his lie was, and then maybe I’d throw a drink in his face for good measure. Except, he walked into that kitchen acting cool as a cucumber. And those eyes… they turned me into a bumbling idiot again.
I have to admit, he has a way with words.
And, most importantly…
A million dollars could change everything.
I keep coming back to that cold, hard truth. I don’t have money. I can use this to my advantage. He needs me, and I hate to admit that perhaps I need him, too. The right connections, the right introductions…I know that’s how the world works. My father might be a bit more naive, but I know the top one percent are a well-connected bunch.
My fingers brush against the textured, beige wallpaper as I walk toward the elevator.
Of course he’d live in a fucking castle.
Maybe this won’t be so bad. It’s a literal castle, so coming from my tiny flat in North London is a welcome change. I can use the year getting everything up and running for my clothing brand, and by the time we amicably divorce, I’ll be well on my way to living my dream.
What’s one year, anyway?
Maybe getting out of the routine of my life in London would be good. Maybe it would help me clear the cobwebs in my head…the same ones that threaten to ruin my day.
Maybe the incessant, California sunshine will push all my dark thoughts away.
I quietly pad into the kitchen, admiring the shiny, modern fixtures, pale wood, and state-of-the-art cabinetry. My eyes rove over the fancy espresso machine, smirking as I go digging through the pantry for some proper tea. I find a sad-looking box of Lady Grey tea in the back, and I quickly go about preparing my morning ritual. It’s barely half-four, and I scrounge around the pantry until I find a box of stale oats, moving into making a bowl of oatmeal with chocolate chips and peanut butter for myself. It’s a strange combination, but one I’ve done for years. I find a pad of paper and pen and write out a list of things I’ll need to get in the next food shop. First and foremost, there are zero biscuits.
I need to remedy that.
After I finish my oatmeal, I place my dishes in the dishwasher and head out to the back for a morning walk. It’s just starting to get light out, so I walk slowly, enjoying the cool morning air on my skin. If I were in London, I’d be freezing my arse off. It’s not warm, per se. But it’s lacking the sharp, cold bite of autumn that England is famous for. I have a feeling that once the sun is out fully, everything will warm up. And I am here for it.
I walk the perimeter of the castle first, taking note of the four stories, the stone walls, the arched windows. There’s also a massive pool in the back garden, a gate leading to the woods that surround the castle, and a fancy, circular driveway. It’smassive.The fact that this might very well be my new home is mind-boggling.
Around six, I head back inside, showering quickly and changing into my favorite bright yellow romper. When I go downstairs to make another cup of mediocre tea, there’s a man in the kitchen.
I stop walking as he looks up and notices me. He’s holding a newspaper in both hands, and as his expression goes from curious to amused, he folds the paper and sets it on the island.
“Well, well, well,” he drawls, smirking. “You must be my brother’s new fiancée.”
How the hell does he know? Did Miles tell him?
