Page 12 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

Her arms were lean but strong, her legs long and firm. She had the body of a woman who knew how to work and wasn’t afraid to meet the day head-on. There was no priss to Aria Saint-James. Nothing fake or plastic.

The exact opposite of every woman who’d be in attendance tonight. Especially the bride. I grinned, imagining Heather’s face if I strolled into her wedding with a beautiful woman like Aria on my arm.

Revenge wasn’t best served cold. It worked best when dripping with sex and superiority.

Maybe Clara had been on to something. Maybe—

No. Hell no.

Aria loathed my existence. And not even Clara held enough sway over her sister to get her to agree to be a wedding date.

Aria’s gaze turned toward my house. The wind caught a lock of her hair and blew it into her mouth, so she tugged it away.

There was no way for her to see through the mirrored glass, but the way she stared, the way her eyes narrowed, was like she could see me watching. She wordlessly scolded me for intruding on her time with Gus.

So I backed away from the window and retreated to my desk, where I spent a few hours returning emails and phone calls, watching the clock tick down. The pit of dread in my gut grew deeper by the minute.

Jesus, I hated my family.

My grandmother. My brother. My soon-to-be sister-in-law. I hated them all. I hated their friends. I hated their colleagues. I hated that tonight they’d see me alone. Vulnerable.

Because besides my paid employee, who else did I have?

When time ran out, I hurried through a shower, then donned my best tuxedo, the black Italian fibers having been tailored specifically for my frame. I knotted a solid black tie at my neck and fastened my diamond cufflinks. And with my Patek Philippe watch around my wrist, I snagged the Jaguar’s keys from the table beside the door and made my way to the driveway where my butler, Ron, had parked it this morning after having it detailed and waxed.

Stepping outside, I filled my lungs with the clear desert air. I wouldn’t get another fresh breath until I returned home. Las Vegas would stick to me like gum under a shoe, unwelcome and a damn mess to clean.

The cooler temperatures of Arizona suited me fine. In the summer, it was warm. In the fall, the nights cooled and made life bearable.

My shoes clicked on the concrete as I made my way toward the driveway. The weight of the keys in my palm kept my hand from shaking. The other, I tucked into a pocket.

One night.

All I had to do was make it through this one night. Then one more year, two weeks, and three days.

Before Thanksgiving of next year, I’d be a free man. No longer bound by the wishes of a dead man. Trapped by the whims of his wife.

I sucked in one more fortifying breath and rounded the corner, only to stop short at the sight of my car.

And the woman standing beside it.

She huffed. “It’s about damn time.”

Chapter Three

Aria

“Thanks for opening the door,” I deadpanned as Brody rounded the hood of his Jag. “Such a gentleman. Do you treat all your dates with such attention?”

“You’re not my date.”

“I didn’t get dressed up for nothing.” I motioned to the emerald gown Clara had conned me into earlier.

The dress was cut low in front, past my breastbone in a deep V. The back dipped beneath my shoulder blades. The satin clung to my torso before flaring out at the hips, billowing into a skirt that swished around my legs. For a woman who’d never had a prom, this dress was as fancy as I’d ever been.

Clara had taken one look and declared the dress had been made with me in mind. Then she’d watched me like a hawk from outside the bathroom, ensuring that I was doing my best primping work.

Her makeup stash had been properly raided and her curling iron thoroughly misused. My eyes were lined and my cheeks were rosy. My hair was curled and hung loosely down my back. She’d tucked a jeweled pin into one side, pulling a section away from my temple. The pin’s stones matched the gown’s color to perfection.