First message
Your wedding was in seven days when William cheated on you. He wouldn’t say who with. Wouldn’t even fight for you. He just packed his bags and left, taking years of love with him.
And now you were sitting across from his terrifying older brother, staring at photographs of Will kissing some woman named Veronica.
“None of this is your fault.” Theodore slipped the photos into his jacket.
You couldn’t even look at him.
“I’ll get straight to it,” he continued. “I paid for the wedding. Everything’s arranged. You shouldn’t have to throw it all away because my brother couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. You can hate me all you want—”
“Wait. What?” Your head snapped up. “Not cancel the wedding? Who the hell am I supposed to marry? A cardboard cutout of Will?”
“Me.”
One word. No hesitation.
You stared at him. His one green eye held yours. The other was milky white, framed by an ugly burn scar. Theodore Holt. A man who terrified people for a living.
“Theo, that’s not funny. We barely even talk.”
“I’m not joking.”
He reached into his jacket, pulled out a small black velvet box, and slid it across the table with one finger.
“Think about it,” he said calmly. “I’m not asking you to love me.”