Dangerous Engagement
Charlotte Byrd
Contents
About Dangerous Engagement (Wedlocked Trilogy Book 1)
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About Charlotte Byrd
Also by Charlotte Byrd
1. Aurora
2. Henry
3. Aurora
4. Henry
5. Henry
6. Aurora
7. Aurora
8. Henry
9. Aurora
10. Aurora
11. Aurora
12. Henry
13. Aurora
14. Aurora
15. Aurora
16. Henry
17. Aurora
18. Henry
19. Henry
20. Aurora
21. Aurora
22. Henry
23. Aurora
24. Aurora
25. Aurora
26. Aurora
27. Aurora
28. Aurora
Connect with Charlotte Byrd
Also by Charlotte Byrd
About Charlotte Byrd
Copyright © 2020 by Charlotte Byrd, LLC.
All rights reserved.
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Cover Design: Charlotte Byrd
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This book is a word of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Identifiers
ISBN (e-book): 978-1-63225-109-1
ISBN (paperback): 978-1-63225-110-7
Created with Vellum
About Dangerous Engagement (Wedlocked Trilogy Book 1)
Not long ago, there was nothing I couldn’t have. Now, I don’t even have the choice of whom to marry.
To save my father’s life and our family’s legacy, I have to marry a cruel man who wants me only as a trophy.
Henry Asher was just supposed to be a summer fling, but we fell in love. We thought we would be together forever, but life got in the way. After we broke up, I vowed to never tell Henry the truth about my engagement.
What happens when the lies that were supposed to save me start to drown me?
Henry Asher
I didn’t always have wealth or power. There was even a time when I didn’t want any of that.
Then I met her: Aurora Tate is an heiress to a billion-dollar fortune. She grew up on Park Avenue, had a house in the Hamptons, and skied in Aspen. Our first summer together was magical. We were naive enough to think that love was going to be enough.
Now, she’s forced to marry a man she hates to save her father's life.
To get her back and to make her my wife, I need to become the man she needs me to be.
Can I do it in time?
Read the FIRST book to the addictive WEDLOCKED series by bestselling author Charlotte Byrd.
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“Fast-paced romantic suspense filled twists and turns, danger, betrayal and so much more.” ★★★★★
“Decadent, delicious, & dangerously addictive!” ★★★★★
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“Extremely captivating, sexy, steamy, intriguing, and intense!” ★★★★★
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“What a magnificent story from the 1st book through book 6 it never slowed down always surprising the reader in one way or the other. Nicholas and Olive's paths crossed in a most unorthodox way and that's how their story begins it's exhilarating with that nail biting suspense that keeps you riding on the edge the whole series. You'll love it!” ★★★★★
“What is Love Worth. This is a great epic ending to this series. Nicholas and Olive have a deep connection and the mystery surrounding the deaths of the people he is accused of murdering is to be read. Olive is one strong woman with deep convictions. The twists, angst, confusion is all put together to make this worthwhile read.” ★★★★★
“Fast-paced romantic suspense filled with twists and turns, danger, betrayal, and so much more.” ★★★★★
“Decadent, delicious, & dangerously addictive!” - Amazon Review ★★★★★
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About Charlotte Byrd
Charlotte Byrd is the bestselling author of romantic suspense novels. She has sold over 600,000 books and has been translated into five languages.
She lives near Palm Springs, California with her husband, son, and a toy Australian Shepherd who hates water. Charlotte is addicted to books and Netflix and she loves hot weather and crystal blue water.
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Also by Charlotte Byrd
All books are available at ALL major retailers! If you can’t find it, please email me at [email protected]
Wedlocked Trilogy
Dangerous Engagement
Lethal Wedding
Fatal Wedding
Tell me Series
Tell Me to Stop
Tell Me to Go
Tell Me to Stay
Tell Me to Run
Tell Me to Fight
Tell Me to Lie
Tangled Series
Tangled up in Ice
Tangled up in Pain
Tangled up in Lace
Tangled up in Hate
Tangled up in Love
Black Series
Black Edge
Black Rules
Black Bounds
Black Contract
Black Limit
Lavish Trilogy
Lavish Lies
Lavish Betrayal
Lavish Obsession
Standalone Novels
Debt
Offer
Unknown
Dressing Mr. Dalton
1
Aurora
I watch him from afar. I know him even though I don’t even know his name. He probably wants everything that’s mine. He imagines that my life is wonderful and fun and full of possibilities that he could only dream of. What he doesn’t know is how boring it can be or how isolating.
I have my parents, my friends, my parents extended social circle, and even my grandparents. But none of them really know me. I wish they did.
Not even my therapist knows me.
Everywhere I go, I wear a false face and it makes my life a farce.
My makeup and dress are my armor.
Thousand dollar shoes. Two thousand dollar bags. Three thousand dollar dresses.
My closet is as big as most one-bedroom apartments in New York City. I can buy anything and therefore, I want nothing.
My therapist thinks that I’m depressed. She diagnosed me with anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder and prescribed meds that I don’t want to take. Maybe I am depressed. But who wouldn’t be? I’m in my mid-twenties and I can be anything I want. The only problem is that I don’t want to do anything.
During the year I stay busy by going to school. The classes give me some structure to the day.
I take four each semester and between that, studying, the gym, and the weekly spa session, I manage to stay busy enough to forget how bored I am.
On the weekends, my girlfriends, the ones working sixty hours a week at non-paying internships for famous designers, artists, and gallery owners insist that I pull myself away from my books and my boring grad-school “friends” and hang with them instead. Their parties are usually two-day affairs that require helicopter rides and mansions in far-flung places. It’s the stuff of dreams, or in my case, nightmares.
They say friends using quotation marks because they know that those people are not really my friends at all. They're just people I know. What my other friends don’t know, however, is that they aren’t really my friends either. They are just people I have known longer.
This guy with his hazel eyes, casual smile, and cheap clothes probably thinks the same thing of me as everyone else. That I’m just a spoiled little girl who has had everything handed to her, that I have never worked hard for anything, and I will never deserve anything I have.
I don’t blame him. A part of me thinks the same way. What else can you think? My father owns a media empire and has dominated New York society ever since he came onto the scene in the 1980s. He owns hundreds of buildings and homes in New York and around the world. He’s someone every businessman wants to be but can’t because he will never step down.
I’m his oldest child and he wants to groom me to take over, but I know that that will never happen. He is not the type to retire. He’s not the type to fade away. Besides, I have no interest in running an empire. I want to carve out my own place in this world, what that is exactly I do not know yet.
Neither of my parents understand this, even though they should. They both came from nothing and they both grew Tate Media into what it is today. My mother was not the type to stay at home. She is Tate's Chief Financial Officer and that’s just scratching the surface of what she does there.
My parents are Tate Media. They have built it from scratch, buying up one distressed radio station at a time. They know the ins and outs of the whole business and, despite all of that, they have never made me feel welcome there.
I have spent one long and miserable summer there during my sophomore year with both of them looking over my shoulder and micro-managing my every move. After that, I said no more and promised myself that I would never work there again.
The guy glances at me. I sit back in the lounger and point my toes. I take a sip of my margarita, pursing my lips just so. I adjust my Chanel sunglasses and oversized floppy hat to both hide my gaze and to get a better look at him.
He’s cute enough and probably witty, to a degree, but I wish that people weren’t so predictable. I know exactly what he’s going to say before he says it. I know exactly what he’s going to compliment me on and what he’s going to pay attention to. There is no surprise and without that, he will be just like a hundred others I’ve met who did not hold my interest.
He walks up to me slowly. I brace myself for a boring pick-up line. He looks deep into my eyes, so deeply in fact that I can't look away. I pull my sunglasses to the bridge of my nose and wait for him to open his mouth. His lips curl at the corners, but only slightly.
“Have you ever read Flannery O’Connor?"
I sit back in my seat, taken aback. Hmm…this is interesting.
“Of course,” I say, raising one eyebrow.
"She's one of my favorite writers,” he says, spreading his shoulders out widely. He holds a mop in one hand and with the other runs his fingers through his hair.
The confidence he exudes is overwhelming, and a little off-putting. “Why are you asking about her?”
“Well, I was just reading one of her stories this morning before work, Good Country People. You know it?”
I nod.
“Really?” he asks as if he doesn’t believe me.
He is challenging me, which is not something that usually happens. No, let me amend that. That’s not something that has ever happened.
"It's about Joy, a thirty-two-year-old atheist and a PhD student of philosophy who lives with her small-minded mother,” I say, focusing my eyes directly on his. “Joy doesn't have a leg because she lost it in a childhood shooting accident. A Bible salesman comes to see them and her mother believes that he is good country people, as they say. Then he invites Joy out for a date and that's when things get, let's just say interesting.”
He raises his eyebrows and takes a step away from me.
“Are you surprised?” I ask.
“Yes, to tell you the truth I am. Pleasantly.”
“Why is that?” I ask.
“It’s pretty obscure,” he says with a pronounced shrug.
I fold my arms across my chest and raise my chin in the air in defiance.
“Did you bring it up to teach me a lesson?” I ask. “Maybe make me feel bad, or stupid even?”
He shakes his head. When I look into his eyes, I can’t look away. There's something in them that pulls me in, even convincing me that he didn’t mean it that way at all. It was a genuine attempt to make a connection.
“While they are on their date, the Bible salesman persuades her to go up in the loft and to take off her prosthetic leg,” he says. His words come out smoothly, naturally even. “He then shows her the inside of one of his Bibles that contains a bottle of whiskey, condoms, an
d cards with naked women on them.”
“When she says no to his advance,” I finish the story for him, “the Bible salesman tells her that he collects fake legs and takes off with hers.”
“What do you like about the story?” he asks.
"Who said that I liked it?” I ask him.
He smiles.
“You have to.”
“I have to?” I ask.
“You know it so intimately and innately that they must've made an imprint on your soul,” he says.
I gaze into his eyes. I have lived for twenty-five years and not once have I ever spoken with another human being about the existence of a soul. Yet here is a stranger, a simple worker on my father's yacht, who speaks of it as if it's second nature, as if it's as real as gravity.
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