He chuckles. “Calm down, child. Denver is the perfect prince. He’s handsome, loyal, and incredibly strong.”
That doesn’t sound so bad.
“There he is,” Destiny said, pointing to a man who looked at least 10 years older than me, “Your future husband.”
He’s okay, I guess. He just looks so fake. His smile looks like a mask, to hide what is probably boredom. His posture makes me wonder if he has something in that ornate tuxedo holding him up. It is obvious that he is a puppet, although whoever is holding his strings I’ll most likely never meet.
