Benedict Winslow, IV
“Beatrice, explain to me why you continue to insult the Hartwells by not including their two oldest children in your invitations to events in our home,” I say. I’m so f*****g tired of dealing with this, of dealing with my mate.
“We have a reputation to uphold, Benedict,” she begins, but I hold up my hand.
“Stop. Now! Benedict has warned you. He spent all day yesterday at the Hartwells making sure that we are still at peace with them. You are going to cause a war with your hatred. This ends NOW, Beatrice. I am done. Let the past die. If I had known that you were going to grow into such an insipid harpy, I never would have taken you as chosen mate.”
It’s harsh, I know. But honestly, she’s the reason I’m so tired. I thought, with time, she’d get over her hatred of Saw
