“Right, I forgot. I’m supposed to wait patiently while my fiancé runs around and f***s every random mutt in the western hemisphere with a nice pair of t**s. Sorry, I forgot. Prince Gael gets to do whatever he wants, while I’m stuck in my father’s house, waiting for him like the good, little, chaste wife he deserves.”
Chaste? Hah. She’d been f*****g her father’s gardeners before I’d even formally met her at my eighteenth birthday party. I knew because I’d walked in on her more than once. And even then, Celeste had made it very clear that I was too scrawny for her tastes, and she was no more pleased with the match than I was. I could still remember the first time it happened.
She was in the pool house, glittering skirts pushed up and bent over the back of a couch while some guy railed her.
