THE CONTRACT (The Chosen Series #2)

PRETTY WOMAN

Roisin greets me with a saccharine smile, fluttering her ridiculously long lashes. There's a certain coldness in her dark, evil eyes. Okay, maybe "evil" is a bit much, but I can't shake this intense dislike I have for her.

I'm strong. I'm resilient. I'm fire... I still entertain the thought of seeing her without eyebrows. Just a little spark and poof!

I shoot back a smile as sweet as candy, then pivot away from her, focusing on Ava. I purposely ignore the intense glare from the so-called queen bee, already plotting my revenge on my supposed BFF. "Did she show up?"

Ava's smile wavers slightly, and she shakes her head. "She's still working." I sigh. The chances of Isla making it to the city to help Ava and me choose a dress were slim, but I couldn't help but hold out hope.

"Erin, it's good to see you," Siobhan's voice resonates in the room, entering through a side door leading to an area for accessories, with Reagan and Caitlín trailing behind her, Reagan appearing solemn and Caitlín wearing a sour expression.

"Likewise," I smile, genuinely meaning it. I only wish Eileen was with them so I could express my gratitude in person for safeguarding Isla's identity.

"Siobhan, or should I call you mother?" Roisin interrupts, beckoning her future mother-in-law to join her, her voice dripping with syrupy sweetness. If she got any sweeter, she'd risk inducing a sugar coma. Observing Siobhan's reaction, I notice a slight shudder ripple through her, though she maintains a pleasant expression. Interesting.

"Is it getting chilly in here, ladies, or is it just me?" Siobhan remarks, attempting to deflect attention, then offers a tight-lipped expression to Roisin as she approaches. "I think 'Siobhan' would be more appropriate. You might want to reserve that title for your own mother." I have to suppress a laugh at the subtle dismissal.

Roisin, either oblivious to the brush-off or choosing to ignore it, gestures towards a wall adorned with extravagant wedding dresses. "Which one do you think Liam would like?" She ends her question with a smirk directed at me.

Bitch! Oh, Ava, you're in so much trouble.

"I think any of these dresses would look lovely," Siobhan replies, her voice neutral. "As for my son, I don't believe the dress is his focus."

"Well, I think the one on the left would look perfect on you," Caitlín offers her opinion, pointing to a dress that I swear is so over-the-top it looks like a pomeranian had a rendezvous with a silkie chicken. With its explosion of tulle and beading, the gaudy gown would have been right at home in the '80s.

"Mother, don't you think it's a bit... much?" Roisin's voice carries a hint of distaste as she wrinkles her nose.

"Nonsense. Any girl from a respectable family would appreciate a dress like this." I suppress a laugh, thinking to myself, maybe if you're on crack!

As Roisin and her mother continue to discuss options, I tune them out. Turning my attention to Ava, I notice her glancing worriedly over at Reagan, Liam's sister, who stands quietly in the corner, unusually subdued. Moving closer to my friend, I nudge her gently. "What's up with her?" I keep my voice low, ensuring only Ava can hear me.

Ava sighs and gently tugs on my hand, leading me over to a rack of dresses that better suit my style—simple, elegant, and distanced from the others. She reaches out, running her fingers over the intricate beading on one of the gowns. "Did you ever meet a man named Lachlan Gallagher when you were at the Ranch?"

I think back on my time at the Ranch, images of multiple men running through my mind. But no, I cannot recall him. I shake my head, and Ava nods in acknowledgment. "He was Reagan's soon-to-be mate."