Leather & Lark (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #2) (32)

“Thank you.” My brittle smile does little to reassure Sloane, judging by the way her brow furrows when she glances my way. “Maybe this will give them something to focus on instead of Auntie Ethel.”

Sloane’s face scrunches. “You think your elopement to a man they’ve never met will help with that?”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “Entertainment, you know? Something to take their minds off … stuff.”

“What kinds of stuff?”

“Like, Ethel dying stuff.”

“That’s not what you meant.”

“What else would I mean?”

Sloane sighs and her grip tightens on the steering wheel, her knuckles white across the bone. “Something such as, I don’t know, the real reason behind what is clearly a sham marriage to a man you loathe?”

“Sloane, I thought we just agreed. I’ve got this.”

“We didn’t agree to shit. You just told me not to worry, which makes me exponentially more worried.”

“More worried than if I’d suddenly said, ‘Sloaney, I just realized I’m madly in love with Lachlan Kane and we’re going to get hitched’?”

Sloane blinks. Tilts her head. Calculates. “No. All options are shit.”

“Even the one where we’re officially sisters-in-law?”

“Okay, that is the upside. But the only one.”

“Well, just take that for the ray of sunshine that it is.” I pat Sloane’s leg and she glares at me, coaxing out the first genuine smile I think I’ve made in days. I love poking Sloane’s lethal side, especially knowing I have complete immunity from her retribution. “Honestly though, I’m not sure how I’m going to tell them all yet. Was thinking I might just wing it. Goes with the elopement theme.”

“I’m shocked. Truly.”

“Maybe I’ll just send a pic to Ava. No context, just me and Lachlan and the officiant. Then turn off my phone.”

“Didn’t you tell me once that Ethel was the only person who loved to poke your sister more than you?”

“Yeah …” I say, tilting my head to the side. “Why?”

“Well, I think sweet ol’ Ethel has it covered today.”

Sloane nods toward the sidewalk. I follow her line of sight and my gaze lands on a familiar elderly woman, her hair curled in a halo of white waves, her floral dress billowing beneath a glossy black fur coat even though it’s a mild October day, an ebony cane clutched in her hand.

Her other arm is looped with that of none other than Lachlan fucking Kane.

“How in the ever-loving fuck …” I hiss.

“Looks like she enjoys poking you, too,” Sloane says, giving my shoulder a playful nudge.

We slide into a parking spot right next to where they’re walking, which would probably have gone unnoticed if Sloane didn’t beep-beep them a joyful little honk. My aunt grins at me from the other side of the tinted glass.

“I hate you both,” I whisper through a fake smile before my gaze shifts to Lachlan. “But I hate him most of all.”

Ink climbs Lachlan’s skin from beneath the collar of his black suit. His hair is slicked back, a cocky smirk lifting one edge of his lips when his eyes connect to mine. He pats my aunt’s gloved hand as though proving a point, and my eyes narrow to thin slits.

“Really? You hate him? Because you look like you want to climb him like a tree.”

I whip around to face Sloane. “I do not.”

“You’re right. You don’t. You look like you want to decapitate him and parade around town with his head on a pike.” Sloane leans closer as my mouth drops open and my flesh flames crimson. “Piece of advice, Lark. If your intention is to convince anyone that this isn’t just some sham marriage, you should probably at least pretend to want to fuck your husband on your wedding day.”

“Shit. You’re probably right.” My shoulders lift and drop with a heavy sigh. “He does look pretty good. I just have to pretend he’s not just a sexy skin suit over a completely shitbag interior.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sloane deadpans.

I give her a weak smile and turn my attention back out the window where my aunt and Lachlan linger on the sidewalk. Rowan waves at them, walking faster to catch up, but his attempt at enthusiasm does little to disguise his worry. He probably thinks this is just as batshit crazy as everyone else does, myself included. Well, everyone except Ethel, who looks like she’s having the time of her life.

I lower the tinted window just enough to be heard clearly through the crack. “Hi, Auntie.”

Ethel’s eyes glimmer despite their cataract haze. “Hello, dear. Lovely day for a wedding.”

“Sure.”

I shift my attention to Rowan and give him a wave. Then I look to Lachlan, whose grin has become diabolical. For someone who probably hates this idea as much as I do, he certainly looks like he’s enjoying himself nearly as much as my aunt.

Not to be outdone, I put on my most vibrant smile. “Darling.”

Lachlan’s smirk brightens. “Duchess.”

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“Is it? Huh.” Lachlan runs a hand over his freshly shaved face, rings glinting in the October sun. “You mean it can get worse?”