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How was I supposed to marry a man I knew nothing about?
Who did that?
This wasn't the freaking dark ages. Arranged marriages weren't a thing.
Were they?
"Ugh!"
I tried my contact number one more time. When the automated voice on the other end of the phone line said the voice box was full, I growled as I hung up and threw my cell phone at the couch.
This was getting me nowhere.
I winced as I glanced at the white suit hanging on the back of my bedroom door. I had really been hoping it wouldn't come to this. After being chewed out by my grandfather, I had planned to lay low for awhile. If I put on that suit, my plans would go up in smoke.
I just wasn't sure I had any other choice.
I had been really lucky that no one had made the connection yet between me wearing my white suit and getting my face on the news. I had worn other clothes enough times for it not to stick out.
But that suit was special. It was a statement piece, but only to two people. If I wore it, I would have to do something to get my picture flashed across the gossip magazines, something big. Only then would the message get through.
God, this was going to suck.
Knowing I had no other choice since a certain couple of someones wouldn't answer their damn phones, I grabbed the suit and carried it into my bedroom. I tossed it over the bottom of the bed before heading into the bathroom to shower.
It took me a good thirty minutes to shower, shave, and get my hair gelled just right. If I was going out to be seen, I needed to look good. Luckily, I had been blessed with great genetics, so there wasn't much I needed to do to get ready.
I grabbed my keys, wallet, and cell phone before sending out a text message to an acquaintance, letting them know I was headed off to party at a club. I wouldn't say Cindy and I were friends, but we had a mutually beneficial relationship. I told her where I was going to be, and she made sure my pictures were plastered all over the place.
It was a win-win for both of us.
It was only nine o'clock at night. A little early for a night out on the town, but I wanted to get this over with. Contrary to popular belief, I did not enjoy being in the limelight. If I had my way, my picture would never be in the papers. I'd gladly slide into anonymity, never to see a camera flashed in my face again.
Unfortunately, that was not my fate.
Catching a taxi to the club was easy enough. I lived on a pretty popular street in the city. There were always taxis in the area hoping to pick up a well-paying customer.
Once I gave the driver my destination, I sat back and watched as the building flew past my window. I wasn't sure what I was going to do to get attention tonight, but it would have to be something epic.
It always did.
God, I hated this, but I had no choice. No one could know of the secrets I held close to my heart. No one could know that the mischievous spoiled man I presented to the world was a facade.
As soon as we pulled up in front of the club, I plastered a wide smile on my face and climbed out. I tossed the driver a hundred-dollar bill and then started into the club.
I paid the entrance fee and then made my way straight to the bar. "Bourbon, neat," I ordered.
In my experience, bourbon had the strongest alcohol smell, which was what I needed. A couple of sips and a few well placed dabs of bourbon on my skin and suit and everyone would be able to smell me coming from a mile away. They would think I was drunk when I pulled off whatever mischievousness it would take to get my picture in the scandal magazines.
Just one more piece of the facade I presented to the world.
I actually hated alcohol. If I had a choice, I would never touch another drop. It did horrible things to people. I knew from experience. My father had several drinks throughout the day and my mother was soused by eight o'clock at night.
I had learned from the best.
I took another sip of my bourbon and then turned to survey the dance floor, looking for anyone I knew. Mischief was always better with an audience.
I smirked when I saw several of my friends seated at a booth close to the dance floor. I tossed back the rest of my bourbon, ordered another, and then began sauntering across the room as if I owned the world.
