#1 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬
When I agreed to attend the dinner at my family's estate, I didn't think I would leave as a soon-to-be wife.
I also didn't think that my soon-to-be husband was the same man I, equally, fucked and...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
VERONICA VALENTINE
"So..." I swallowed my bile. "Does Mr. Soon-to-be-hubby have a name, or is he known by the net worth attached to his last name?"
"Thank God! You have finally come to your senses, Veronica. This match will be enormously beneficial for us. Especially for you." My father sounded extremely proud of himself. "I'm sure you'll happy with my choice once you meet him at dinner."
"Dinner? As in, tonight's dinner?" I cursed.
My father nodded in response.
"Though he didn't confirm until today due to his busy, pressing schedule."
"And why didn't you tell me all of this before today?" I sigh defeated.
Being ambushed with news of an arranged marriage was bad enough. Meeting my future husband with absolutely no mental preparation was worse.
Everything was happening too fast. The dinner summons, the news of my wedding, the impending meeting.
Fuck! I truly resent my father for putting me through this.
My father's phone dinged signaling that he received a new message. He checked his phone before a slow, sly smile stretched across his face.
"I just received a text message from Quentin saying that he has arrived. Let's go welcome my future son-in-law." Father says standing up with Margot, triumph gleaming in his eyes.
Refusing to wait for him by the door, I stay rooted in my place and cross my hands over my chest. Father scoffs when he notices that I'm not trailing after them but he doesn't say anything and walks out of the dining room.
Rolling my eyes, I look the other way around and glare at the wall. A few minutes later, I hear footsteps approaching the dining room again.
"Thank you for coming tonight." My father's voice sounded beyond pleased.
"How could I pass up the opportunity to meet my lovely bride?"
My spine stiffened at the deep voice behind me. It was so close I could feel the rumble of words against my back. A hint of mockery tainted the words lovely bride and instantly hatred doused the heat and pent-up frustration in my veins.
The fucking audacity of the said lovely groom.
"Veronica, my dear, say hello to our special guest."
I lifted my chin.
Stood.
Turned.
And all the air whooshed out of my lungs.
Raven black hair. Sun-kissed skin. Dark forest green eyes.
The criminally beautiful man from Friday night.
My soon-to-be husband was the arrogant prick I bumped into at Winnie Winifred's annual pre-Christmas party.
And by the way his eyes are narrowing, I would say he remembers me as well.
"Just my fucking luck." I glared.
"You. Again." He grumbled.
"Have you met each other before?" Margot asked, looking between us with the same confused expression my father was wearing.
"Nope. Not official. He was just a fucking inconvenience I bumped into at Winnie's party." I answered.
My father's eyes widened in shock while Margot's mouth hung open.
"Veronica!" Both Margot and my father chastised, but my father's tone was threatening.
"Please excuse my stepdaughter's crass mouth." Margot apologized, voice filled with fake sincerity. "Veronica. Introduce yourself to the gentleman." My father continued, throwing me another menacing glare.
A beat passed before I held out my hand.
"Veronica Valentine. It's a pleasure to meet you, again." I said sarcastically.
"I gathered your name from the multiple times your parents repeated it." He said lazily, taking my outstretched hand, his large palm dwarfing my own.
"Lucian Russo. The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Valentine."
And, unlike his face, his name was eminently recognizable.
Oh-my-fucking-God!
Impossible.
There no way, not even in a million fucking years, Lucian—the motherfucking—Russo was my fiancé.
Current CEO of the Russo Group, Fortune 500 legend, Lucian wasn't just an eligible bachelor; he was the bachelor. The elusive multi-billionaire every woman wanted but none could get. And as far as I know the man was rumored to be married to his work.
So why would he—a blue-blooded Russo—of all people agree to an arranged marriage? And to a Valentine?
I mean we were considered new money but everybody knows that the Russo's money is so old it belongs in the fucking museum.
They are one of the most influential and powerful families in the States, almost as equally as important as the goddamn president.
Something is not right.......
"You're drooling. Again. And with your mouth hanging open." Lucian said with a light chuckle, snapping me out of my shock as my cheeks heated with embarrassment.
"The only drool worthy thing about you is your last name." My witty reply masked any hints of the embarrassment I felt.
A glint sparked in his eyes, but he didn't take my bait.
Instead, our gazes held for a charged moment before he slid his palm out of mine and swept a clinical, detached gaze over my body.
I stiffened beneath Lucian's scrutiny, suddenly hyperaware of my long black dress, slightly puff face and the eyebags that I tried to hide under my makeup.
This was my standard I'm hangover but I will attempt to hide it attire, and judging by the way Lucian's lips thinned, he was less than impressed. A mix of unease and anger twisted my stomach when those green, unforgiving eyes found mine again.
We'd exchanged only a handful of words, yet I was sure about one thing.
We will strangle each other to death before we ever made it to the fucking altar.
