Mostly because of Kate. Kate English. KK. Libitz’s best friend since kindergarten, where their desks and coat hooks had been side by side because of their last names, English and Feingold. Neither girl had been blessed with siblings, but they’d quickly chosen each other as their adopted sister for life. Through six years of elementary school and seven years of middle and high school, where Libitz was one of four Jewish kids at Trinity Prep in Manhattan, KK and Lib had remained inseparable. There was nothing that Lib wouldn’t do for Kate. Nothing.
And she certainly wouldn’t dream of jeopardizing her long-term relationship with Kate’s new family by fucking her best friend’s brand-new brother-in-law. He wasn’t some random guy she met in a bar who could give her a nice anonymous fuck. She was going to know him for the rest of her life, which made him complicated.
Not just complicated.
Forbidden.
But that didn’t mean it was going to be easy to refuse him.
Jean-Christian Rousseau was the epitome of a beautiful bastard—a gorgeous specimen of a male, a man so eminently fuckable in every way, it physically pained her that she couldn’t let it happen when she’d lowered the bar for far-less-deserving men.
Letting her eyes flick to his for just a moment, she scowled at him and watched as his dark-green eyes lit with amusement. Deep inside, under the bridesmaid dress and the silk lingerie she’d bought for Kate’s wedding, she felt a heat, a blissful pressure in her core, her muscles clenching and relaxing as she turned away from her nemesis, feigning disgust.
Well, partially, anyway.
He was brutally hot. It would be impossible to be disgusted with his tall, muscular body, Henry Cavill good looks, sexy smile, slight French accent, and easy, charming manners.
But when Libitz looked just beneath the surface of the stunning packaging, disgust wasn’t far behind or difficult for her to find and grasp. He was also an opportunist, a sexist, and a possible misogynist. From all accounts, he ploughed (literally) through women like a wrecking ball taking out fifty-seven floors with a single swing. It happened fast, and he was long gone after the destruction.
How did she know this?
Well, she knew what she’d been told by Kate and Stratton—that his list of conquests was substantial, leaving more than one disappointed woman behind—but more importantly, she knew his type: beautiful, charming, self-centered, self-serving men who thought with their dicks.
How many hearts had he broken?
A million, she’d bet. Or more.
And the funny thing was? If you asked him, he’d probably say, “None.” He probably assumed that because he wasn’t interested and made it clear, it staunched any interest or expectations on the side of his partners. Stupid, selfish man. Women didn’t work like that.
At any rate, it wasn’t her business how many hearts he’d broken, only that hers would not be among them.
Unfortunately, however, with a man like J.C. Rousseau, the stronger she was in her refusal, the more ruthless he would likely be in his pursuit. At this point, after two solid days of rolling her eyes and ignoring his come-ons, she was a juicy bone and he was a dirty dog with one thought in his very teeny, tiny mind: to eat her whole.
Libitz just hoped the weekend ran out of time before it all came to a head, because she had experience with men like J.C. Rousseau, and when they didn’t get what they wanted, it rarely ended well. For whatever reason, he’d chosen her as his target for the weekend, and she sensed that he wasn’t going to back off…which meant that eventually he’d run out of patience, call her a “bitch” or worse, and either cause a scene or create a rift between himself and his new sister-in-law, who wouldn’t stand for Lib’s abuse.
And that was the antithesis of everything Libitz wanted both for Kate and for herself. She wanted KK to have a happy life with her new family, smooth and full of love at this tender beginning. And Lib, who also wanted a permanent place in Kate’s new life, didn’t especially want to piss off her brother-in-law out of the gate.
She glared at him as Kate and étienne kissed and the crowd cheered with applause, because she resented him for putting her in this position.
Why couldn’t he find someone else to bother?
Sighing with annoyance, she collected herself just in time to watch Kate and étienne turn around as the priest announced that they were husband and wife. She beamed at her friend with a lifetime’s worth of affection and offered the bride her bouquet.
I love you, mouthed KK to her best friend before turning to her new husband with a look of such utter and complete happiness, Libitz’s heart clutched with longing.
She stood, nearly limp with yearning, watching as Kate and étienne laced their hands together and walked up the aisle to Mendelssohn. Her eyes burned. Her lips quivered.
Luckily, J.C. was there to shatter the magical spell woven by Kate’s happiness.
“Hey, Elsa,” he said, nudging her bony hip with his elbow, “ready to go?”
“My name isn’t Elsa,” she said, fixing a smile on her face as she reluctantly took his elbow and started down the altar steps to the middle aisle of the church.
“Really? Because I could have sworn you were an ice princess.”