FIONA GRAND
I was supposed to be on my way to Paris.
My boarding pass was tucked into my designer purse, my luggage packed and in the trunk of the sleek sedan, and I was tucked into the backseat, stewing in my rage.
How dare Nathan choose Vanessa over me. I'd loved him since we were children, since the first time he'd played house with me in kindergarten. I'd spent years perfecting myself for him—my manners, my smile, my body—and he'd thrown me away for Vanessa Belmont and their contract marriage.
My phone case cracked under my grip.
The driver cleared his throat again. "Ma'am? The airport?"
I opened my mouth to give him the go-ahead, even though the last place I wanted to go was the airport. I didn't want to return to France, either. Mother had made it clear that I needed to marry a wealthy man.
