Chapter 2
Gwen
“Champagne, Madame?”
“Yes. Hell yes. Thanks!” I say, while letting go my fiancé’s arm and grabbing two crystal flutes filled to the brim with bubbly liquid.
With one in each hand, I chug them as lady-like as possible. Frankly, I don’t give a damn how classy I look right now; all I know is that I need every ounce of alcohol to get me through this night.
I’m sure I’ll need more of this, seeing as how I’m engaged to the fucking Marquis de Roach. A man who makes me want to vomit just by looking at him.
Happily-fucking-ever after to me!
And the worst part is that he’s not even close to my idea of Prince Charming. Christ, he’s not even a prince! He’s the complete opposite of what I wanted—or dreamt of—and no fairy godmother can convince me otherwise.
In fact, if I do have a fairy godmother, I’m pretty sure she’s in rehab right now—Cinderella never would have had to deal with this shit.
Ignoring the Marquis de Roach and the anger that radiates from his stance, I survey the ballroom, looking for more of the delicious nectar. I’m lucky, though; the champagne is doing a great job of easing my gag reflex while I’m with him.
I leave his side, and he glares daggers at me. But I don’t care.
I find the nearest waiter and place my flutes down on his empty tray.
“Where can I get a refill?” I ask, not hiding my eagerness.
“Just that way.” The polished penguin suit-wearing man points to the other side of the ballroom.
Ugh. I sigh and roll my eyes, annoyance replacing the temporary relief the champagne gave me.
“Really? Through all those damn people?” I don’t mean to be rude, but apparently, the bubbly has loosened my body, including my tongue.
It’s also one of the first times I’ve had alcohol, seeing as I’m new to it, so it’s very potent.
It’s a shame. I’m just now able to drink and to marry, and I have to marry the vilest Roach in the kingdom. My youth is being wasted, that’s a given.
I hope that the waiter would at least take some pity on me, given that fact, and fetch the champagne for me.
I usually don’t act this way. I’ve never been one to complain, and I’m always up for a challenge.
But after Daddy sold me to the man who offered the most money, regardless of the repercussions I’d have to deal with, then yes, I’m going to be a little pissed. It’s going to take all the champagne in the world to chase down that large, ugly pill that’s now my reality.
“Sorry, Madame. I suppose so.” The waiter distracts me from my self-wallowing pity party and walks away from me.
Ugh. What an ass!
I steady myself on my heels. Maybe wearing five-inch stilettos wasn’t a good idea today.
But without a passing word to the fiancé, I maneuver through the crowd of people with my eye on the prize—that liquid gold.
Christ, it’s like a can of sardines in here. Not only is the stench of excessively perfumed old people enough to choke me, but they packed themselves so tightly I feel like I’ve groped more than enough saggy breasts and dicks to last me a lifetime.
Looking through the crowd, I’m amazed at how many old people are here to celebrate Edward’s engagement. I thought there’d be at least some people my age—well, our age. But it just goes to show how little time we’ve had to enjoy ourselves outside of this elite bubble.
At least when we were kids, we were able to play. Those were the days when I could roll around in the mud and tackle boys, before my parents chastised me for not being lady-like.
It’s like I got my period and then immediately, I had to be primped and prodded. The boys could still play, but I had to be indoors, practicing my Latin or learning how to drink out of a fucking tea cup. I envied them.
Unfortunately for my parents, the etiquette classes didn’t completely cure me of my unsavory ways. But now, I at least know how to polish my rougher edges when I need to. Like for this event.
My father and mother would go completely mad if they saw me downing champagne like some lush. So, I guess there’s a positive to having all these people here, distracting them.
Speaking of distractions, I’ve only seen glimpses of King Edward while making my way through this bejeweled hellhole. I remember him as a cute boy but a scrawny one, someone I loved tackling to the ground while we played all sorts of sports. He was never able to defend himself against me.
But from what I’ve seen so far, he can dominate me now...easily. His broad shoulders and big arms prove that he’s done more than playing since I’ve seen him. The idea of that body pinning me down sends shivers down my spine and tingles my already wet pussy.
Damn, he’s impressive. And that’s just his side view that’s riling me up.
I watch as his handsome and chiseled jaw clenches every time he talks to someone. I laugh at the reaction, relating to that twinge of annoyance when dealing with a wet blanket.
Too bad he’s getting engaged. Fuck, too bad I’m engaged. I’d really like to reenact some of our memories.
And if that body is any indication of what the whole package looks like, then I’d be happy to lose a few games...for old time’s sake.
Rubbing up against the sea of tacky dresses, I come to terms with the fact that this will be my life—champagne, old stuffy people, and a permanent fake smile, all to appease the asshat who is now my fiancé.
How pathetic! One day, maybe, I’ll be able to find something to relieve myself of this atrocity.
There it is! It’s so close. The tray of sparkly liquid shimmers in the light, and I swear I hear angels singing as I inch my way closer.
“Excuse me!” I yell at this random man who steps on my dress and hip-bumps me, pushing me backward.
I sway on my heels and swat him away. He doesn’t even realize what happened; he just continues talking about whatever the fuck.
Turning my attention back to the champagne, I take a step forward and reach my hand out to grab a glass.
Fuck! My heel gets stuck on the hem of my dress, and the next thing I know, I’m face up in the arms of King Edward, looking directly at that jaw.
His full lips smile down at me, and his gaze lingers over my body, and I find myself pulled into his raw sexual magnetism. A flutter of anticipation steadily grows in my chest, and my pussy throbs in tandem, making me ache for him. It’s all happening so quickly.
Oh, fuck.
I’ve never wanted anyone before.
But god, I want him.
Now.
I might’ve just found something better than champagne to help me through tonight, and it’s in the shape of a fucking hot-ass king.