"Avery's your stylist," he said.
Why was this the first I was hearing of it---and why did it annoy the hell out of me?
"Since when did I have a stylist?!"
He paused. "You know what today is, don't you?"
Shit! I was beyond late for work.
I sighed. "I'll deal with this later. I need to go."
He grabbed my arm to stop me. "Where do you think you're going?"
I stared at him in confusion. "Work?"
He scoffed. "You're my wife now."
I frowned. I would never get used to him calling me that.
"Just so you know, you don't have to call me that when we're alone," I said.
He shrugged. "I like it."
I didn't have the energy---or the time---to argue, so I let it go.
"I'm late for work."
"Dad's hosting a conference. It's where he's going to introduce me to the world as his heir," he spat.
The way he spat the word made it clear he hated it---maybe even more than I did.
"You have to be there," he finished.
"Why? I'm sure my presence will go by unnoticed," I said, rolling my eyes.
