I bit my tongue so hard the taste of copper filled my mouth.
My sister had married an Eldorran earl who was a second cousin twice removed from the queen. Our "connection" to the small European kingdom's royal family was a stretch, but in my father's eyes, an aristocratic title was an aristocratic title.
"I know it's not a joke," I said, reaching for my tea. I needed something to do with my hands. "But it's also not something I need to think aboutright now. I'm dating. Exploring my prospects. There are plenty of single men in New York. I just have to find the right one."
I left out the caveat: there were plenty of single men in New York, but the pool of single, straight, non-douchey, non-flaky, non-disturbingly eccentric men was much smaller.
My last date tried to rope me into a seance to contact his dead mother so she could "meet me and give her approval." Needless to say, I never saw him again.
But my parents didn't need to know that. As far as they were concerned, I was dating handsome trust fund scions left and right.
"We've given you plenty of time to find a proper match these past two years." My father sounded unimpressed by my spiel. "You haven't had a single serious boyfriend since your last…relationship. It's clear you don't feel the same urgency we do, which is why I took matters into my own hands."
My tea froze halfway to my lips. "Meaning?"
I thought the important news he'd alluded to had to do with my sister or the company. But what if…
My blood iced.
No. It can't be.
"Meaning I've secured a suitable match for you." My father dropped the bombshell with little to no warning or visible emotion. "It took quite a bit of work on my end, but the arrangement has been finalized."
I've secured a suitable match for you.
The fragments from his declaration blasted through my chest and nearly cleaved my outward composure in half.
My teacup clattered back onto its plate, earning me a frown from my mother.
For once, I was too busy processing to worry about her disapproval.
Arranged marriages were common practice in our world of big business and power plays, where marriages weren't love matches; they were alliances. My parents married my sister off for a title, and I'd known my turn was coming. I just hadn't expected it to come so…sosoon.
A bitter cocktail of shock, dread, and horror sluiced down my throat.
I was expected to enter a lifetime contract after "quite a bit of work" on my father's end.
Just what every woman wants to hear.
"We've let you drag your feet too long, and this match will be enormously beneficial for us," my father continued. "I'm sure you'll agree once you meet him at dinner."
The cocktail turned into poison and ate away at my insides.
"Dinner? As in,tonight'sdinner?" My voice sounded distant and strange, as if I was hearing it in a bad dream. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Being ambushed with news of an arranged marriage match was bad enough. Meeting my future fiancé with zero preparation was a hundred times worse.
No wonder my mother was being even more critical than normal. She was expecting her future son-in-law as a guest.
My stomach lurched, and the possibility of expelling its contents all over my mother's prized Persian rug inched closer to reality.
Everything was happening too fast. The dinner summons, the news of my engagement, the impending meeting—my mind whirled from trying to keep up.
"He didn't confirm until today due to…scheduling complications." My father smoothed a hand over his shirt. "You'll have to meet him eventually. It doesn't matter whether it's tonight, a week, or a month from now."
Actually, itdoesmatter. There's a difference between being mentally prepared to meet my fiancé and having him thrown in my face with no warning.
My retort simmered on low, destined never to reach a full boil.