Christina’s POV
"None of your business," I said, turning away now that the pregnancy drama had lost its entertainnt value.
Niall called after , "Stop! I’m not finished talking to you."
"But I am."
"Don’t you have sothing to say?"
"Like what?"
Niall stared at my face like he was looking for so kind of reaction. "Beatrice is pregnant."
I tapped my ear. "I know. I heard everything. Still have functioning ears, thanks."
"We’re getting married."
Beatrice, who’d been glaring at , snapped her head toward him so fast I thought she might hurt her neck.
Her mouth fell open. Her eyes went wide.
"Good for you," I said like I was reading a grocery list. "Wedding bells, how nice. Do us both a favor and leave off the guest list."
"Niall!" Beatrice started glowing like a Christmas tree. Pregnancy hormones or pure joy? Hard to tell.
"Quiet." Niall pulled away from her grip and stepped toward . "You don’t want to attend our wedding?"
"No."
"Why not? Afraid it’ll be awkward?"
"Yeah, I’m afraid there won’t be enough seats for all your exes."
"You’re not just another ex. You’re Beatrice’s sister; that makes us family."
It took everything I had not to throw up on his shoes.
Was he seriously bragging about sleeping with his future sister-in-law? Gross.
"I’m thrilled for you both," I said, "Hope you go the distance, because once this relationship tanks, there aren’t enough single won left in Highrise City for you to date. Unless you start recycling."
His expression darkened. His shoulders stiffened like his designer suit had suddenly turned to cardboard.
"Is that all?" I glanced at my bare wrist like I wore an invisible watch. "Places to be, you know..."
"Just a mont."
Beatrice’s gaze bounced between us like a ping-pong ball—smug when looking at , adoring when looking at him. Human traffic light with only two settings.
"You’re here alone?" Niall asked, peering over my shoulder.
I shrugged. "Appears that way. But, again, not your concern."
"How sad," Beatrice chid in with fake sympathy. "No one ca with you? You’re all by yourself?"
"What about your mate?" Niall spat the word. No ’s’ in it, yet sohow he made it hiss.
"He’s busy." Running his empire from two floors up, not that they needed to know that.
"Figures." Niall’s tone lightened with satisfaction. "So that’s the caliber of man you picked. Can’t even show up for his wife’s hospital visit."
I barked out a laugh. "As if you ever ca with . Na one ti."
That shut him up fast.
The few tis I’d had a fever and called him, he’d accused of faking for attention and hung up.
I learned to stop bothering after the second ti.
"Looking a little stressed there," Akira comnted in my mind. "Want to help you visualize him getting hit by a bus?"
"Maybe later," I thought back.
Beatrice cut in, clearly sensing we were wading into dangerous nostalgic territory. "Don’t you have sowhere else to be? We’ve got a room tour scheduled. Can’t stand around all day chatting."
Niall brushed off her tugging and gave another once-over, checking out my outfit and hands. He looked smug about sothing.
"Mom told you showed her a wedding certificate. Said it looked legitimate. But I knew it was fake."
"Oh? Are you suddenly an expert in docunt authentication?"
"Because you’re not wearing a wedding ring," he announced like he’d solved a murder mystery. "If you’re really married to a man like Hudson Laurent, why didn’t he give you a ring?"
He did.
I wore it to Edouard Laurent’s party as part of our arrangent.
But sowhere between falling into the pool, getting fished out, and rushing to the hospital, it must have slipped off.
ntal note—Ask Hudson about it later.
"No clever coback?" Niall tilted his chin victoriously. "I don’t know what you did to snare Hudson, but it won’t last. Not forever."
Beatrice looked beyond ready to end this conversation. She yanked at Niall’s sleeve again. He ignored her completely.
"If you’ve actually got Hudson Laurent under control, I’ll eat my shoes. You two have been married how long, and no one’s seen a single photo, no statent, nothing. Ask , you got lucky pulling that bluff, but the clock’s ticking. Once whatever hold you have over him expires, he’ll co after you—hard."
"What kind of hold do you think I have? Compromising photos?" I looked down my nose at Niall, challenging despite his height advantage. "You think Alpha Hudson is the type who’d cave to blackmail?"
"Still, you’re supposedly married and he’s not even here," Beatrice jumped in to support her baby daddy. "You’ve never brought him ho. He hasn’t even t Mom and Dad. Nobody knows you two are married."
Nobody knew? What about those four hundred guests at Edouard Laurent’s mansion?
I was about to point that out, then stopped myself.
Why was I wasting breath arguing with my self-centered sister and an ex I’d rather see flattened by a garbage truck?
I shook my head. "Like I said before: none of your business. Stay out of my life, and I’ll gladly stay out of yours."
"What’s wrong? Running away now that we’ve exposed your lie?" Niall’s grin oozed smugness.
Then he softened his voice into sothing falsely sympathetic. "I understand, Chrissy. You’re trying to save face. You don’t need to invent a marriage just because Beatrice and I—"
"Save what face?"
"Just because Beatrice and I are getting married doesn’t an you need to conjure up so fake husband. It’s not a competition."
"Fake? I wasn’t aware I was fake."
We all turned toward the new voice.
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