CALHOUN’S POV
I tugged at the collar of my tuxedo, hating how stiff it felt around my neck. I always liked looking professional—my parents raised me that way. Image first. Feelings later. But today? Today I just wanted to get this stupid date over with. Pretending to be the perfect fiancé for Beth Stewart was the last thing I felt like doing.
I stepped out of my room, making my way down the hallway, when voices drifted from the master bedroom—loud, sharp, angry. My parents were at it again.
Typical.
They were always fighting. Ever since I was a kid, their arguments had been wallpaper noise in this mansion. They were married on paper, contracted like some kind of polished business deal, and they posed for photos like they were the happiest couple in Texas. But behind closed doors?
The
