Rich People Problems

vi | vixen

KIMBERLY

THE DOOR SUDDENLY opened behind me, disturbing the miniscule semblance of peace I had.

Without looking, I spoke, "Mama, I said I'll be fine. Don't worry." I turned around to see someone who was definitely not my mother. "You're not my mom."

"Acute observation, vixen. If I was, this would be a very awkward marriage." Jace pursed his lips, still standing by the door. The warm garden lights accentuated his sharp features even further. In another life, he could've made a living as a male model or something. He was just that unbelievably... sexy.

But... vixen? It was an interesting—yet understandably fitting—nickname. A snort bubbled out of me at his response and I turned back around.

There were no light sounds of his Italian leather shoes hitting the wood, so I swiveled my head to face him again. "What are you waiting for? An invitation? I don't bite... unless you ask for it." I smirked at the last bit to see him roll his eyes with a subtle ghost of a smile.

"You may not bite, but your snap is arguably worse," he retorted before a hint of sincerity—I'm convinced I was imagining it—filled his tone. "Are you... okay?"

I trilled my lips, unsure of how to answer the question I've been asked a million times in my life, each time leaving me searching for an answer that wasn't there. "I guess... I don't know. I'll be fine. It's just"—I sighed, raising my shoulders—"all this marriage-talk makes me jittery."

He still stood a decent distance away from me, as if he was afraid I was going to explode if he came near. "Understandable. It's not a light topic."

That was the understatement of the century.

I wished I had another drink in my hand to cope with all of this. I took give-or-take five shots of vodka for confidence before getting ready, but the effects were gone the second Mom entered my room.

I cleared my throat, "Thanks for not ratting out the contract we signed. I forgot to tell you earlier, but I think it's best we don't tell our families about the conditions. As far as they're concerned, we're staying married for the foreseeable future."

His lack of response—besides the subtle one nod—had me infuriated. You'd think he'd be more involved in this gargantuan mess of a topic, but all I've gotten were head nods and pursed lips.

Unable to contain my annoyance, I asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Getting engaged." I rolled my eyes at his sarcastic response.

"I meant what are you doing outside." My tone was quite snippy, but everything about him just got on my nerves. "You could've waited for a few minutes with everyone. I wasn't planning on running away."

I heard a soft swish from what I was assuming was his suit. I didn't turn around despite my piqued curiosity. "In those shoes, I don't think you'd make it that far." I was about to retort about how I could run miles in my Louboutins, but I kept that information to myself. "That's beside the point, if there's anything I strongly dislike, it's wasting time. So, I'm here to get this over with."

"What? You want to consummate this marriage right now? That's a little presumptuous, Jace." As Mom always said, my mouth and attitude would get me into major trouble one day. Regardless, I turned around to see his jaw locked and eyes closed with a small velvet box in his hand.

"You're infuriating. You know that?" His eyes finally opened, but remained narrowed at the sickly sweet smile I had on.

"It's one of my best qualities," I replied, scrunching up my face. "But what happened to getting down on one knee? Is chivalry dead?"