by K. I. Lynn
Away from the mother who blamed me for “provoking” him.
I was out of there the second I graduated from high school. I spent the summer on friends’ couches while I worked, and then when college started, I lived in the dorms. Thankfully, I was able to stay there over the summer as well, giving me no reason to return home.
By the time I graduated, I was over three hundred thousand dollars in debt.
For undergrad.
It was unreal.
Thankfully, I was able to get a well-paying job right out of school, making a hundred grand my first year. I had a decent apartment, could go out with friends like Jennifer, save for the first time in my life, and live a decent, miserable life.
It didn’t take long to realize I didn’t have the personality for it. I hated being a pharmaceutical sales representative. I hated being the salesperson pushing something I wasn’t even entirely sure I could agree with, let alone put into my body.
I also didn’t care for the person I was becoming. Being that kind of salesperson colored my soul.
After eleven months and four days, I quit. Gave up my great apartment and moved into a cheaper place back in my old neighborhood.
I liked the lab work of biology and chemistry, the science side of my degree, but I applied to dozens of clinical lab technician positions in various fields that never led to any offers. In all that, I found I could use my knowledge with food, which was the beginning of my matching and pairing of different items.
The chef at 130 Degrees was great in working with me, and I helped him sculpt a few of the restaurant’s signature items. It was something I enjoyed, but it wasn’t a job.
Despite my meager living, I was happier than when I worked as a sales rep. Still, I was constantly applying to jobs that interested me.
Even if I didn’t have any real friends, just a few people I occasionally did things with, and I only went on the occasional date, it was better. I was a loner as it was. I always had been. It wasn’t like Lou would allow me to have friends over, and whatever Lou wanted, Mom went along with.
My loner status was how I ended up alone on my birthday last year, and somehow it ended up being the best birthday I’d ever had in my life. It was all due to one man.
Too bad one night didn’t turn into more, but I found that Atticus in the light of day wasn’t the man I spent the night in bed with.
Nearly a year later, he still haunted me. Every single week, there he was, looking as handsome as ever. Every week, those blue eyes met mine, and I got a hint of that man I met.
He was reserved and demanding; everything had to be perfect. The man had no problem complaining about the smallest thing, though it had been a few months now since my name had rolled off his tongue with the dark undercurrent that made my stomach clench in all the wrong ways.
Instead, it was those hollow eyes. Not empty, but there was something complicated in their depths. A heaviness I couldn’t figure out. His dark blond brows were always crinkled in a permanent scowl, lips in a perfect Cupid’s bow, straight nose, defined cheekbones, jaw clenched creating a hard line sometimes sprinkled with a light scruff, all topped with a perfectly styled head of dark blond hair.
Then there was the suit that looked like it was molded to his form, and I knew he was hiding the body of a god beneath the layers. I’d seen it. Touched it. Been with it intimately.
And down the rabbit hole I went.
That was what happened when I started thinking about Atticus. It always led to remembering his lips against mine, his body covering me as he thrust inside. An Adonis that drew me in with the promise of pleasure.
It didn’t help that I hadn’t been with a man since then, leaving me with nothing but a memory that no man would ever be able to compete with.
Did he ever think of me?
It was kind of a hopeless, wistful longing for a man who had the last forty-some weeks to ask me out and hadn’t even hinted that he even remembered that night. He didn’t crave me the way I craved him.
Well, I craved his body. His personality could use some improvement. But I supposed that was what duct tape was for.
Even then, there was something about my mysterious Atticus that drew me in, kept me thinking about him, against my better judgment.
My constant tormentor.
My teeth mashed together as I stared at the screen. Ever since the will reading, my world had been a shitshow. Whiny siblings and cousins, even aunts and uncles, all coming to me to complain that my grandfather didn’t leave them more.
As if they wanted for anything.
Then there was the incessant badgering about marriage. I’d begun to lock myself away at every opportunity, hiding from relatives, which was difficult when you worked in a building with over thirty other de Loughreys, each one knowing exactly where your office was.
“Mr. de Loughrey?” my assistant called from the doorway.
“What?” I snapped, not even looking her way. I knew Holly wouldn’t be affronted by my attitude. She’d dealt with it for years, but she also knew me in ways many didn’t.
“Your father is on his way.”
“Fuck,” I hissed. My father was supposed to be retiring, but the old man couldn’t keep his controlling hands out of the company. It was my turn to rule, but every time he came into my office and chided me on the way I was handling things, I felt like a little boy being scolded.
He stepped back after the fourth scandal. Not that it affected the family or the company. That wasn’t something Charles de Loughrey would ever allow.
However, that did mean that I rose as the new head of the family, the ruler of numerous fuckups, stuck-up socialite bitches, and family that would sooner cut my throat to gain leverage than help me in any way. He was there to add to the drama.
“Atticus, my boy,” my father’s boisterous voice boomed as he entered. Charles loved an audience and to be the center of attention, and his expression fell when he saw the empty chairs—I was alone.
“Father. What brings you here?” I asked with a forced smile.
“Nothing. I was bored and wanted to see how things were going.”
Lies. He saw the drop in the stock market, and I knew the will decree was going to come up. There was also the arranged marriage business that had me avoiding him as much as possible.
“The company is doing fine. The setback was due to the economy and not the company. Or did you fail to notice the dip in all stocks?”
“I did. That isn’t the only reason I came to see you today. I wanted to talk to you about a personal matter.”
Personal matter? Fuck me. What did the old man do now?
“Just give Holly her name and address along with the amount on your way out.” I turned my attention to the phone that was buzzing on my desk.
Hamilton.
I could use him as an excuse. “I should take—”
“You’re almost thirty-six,” he said, pulling my attention back from my escape route. “You’re closing in on the forty mark. That isn’t much time to find a woman to bear a child. Not to mention you have only eleven months to marry.”
“I still have time. Besides, you were still fathering into your forties. And should I even mention your fifties and sixties?”
His gaze narrowed, and that explosive anger simmered beneath the surface. “Watch your tongue.”
“Then fucking keep it in your pants. You’re too old to be knocking up the maids or whatever pretty young thing catches your eye. I’m tired of writing checks to pay the women off.”
Somewhere in the world, there were children who had no clue the identity of their father. At least one was younger than Elizabeth’s little girl, Madeline.
And they would never know. Some of the women chose to terminate their pregnancy after getting their hush money, but there were at least two alive and growing.
Never knowing what a fucking bastard their father was. At least they were saved that.
“It’s your duty to clean up the mess now. You’re the l
eader.”
“Then how about fucking your wife? Or has it been so long you don’t even know how to engage in conversation with the woman you’ve shared a bed with for forty years?”
“Vera is aware of what she married for, and it wasn’t my fidelity.”
Another statement that alluded to the possibility of more half-siblings somewhere in the world and closer to my age. Fucking philandering asshole.
“And you will do the same.”
“The hell I will.” Two weeks ago, I told him there was no way in hell I was agreeing to an arranged marriage. Now he stood in front of me trying again, but with more malice and dominance in his tone to bully me into acquiescing. He should have known by now that wouldn’t work on me. I was not so weak to bend to his demands.
“I have the perfect girl lined up,” he pressed.
“Don’t,” I ground out. Fucking thick skull refused to accept my decision.
“Amelia Harris, of Harris Hotels.”
A fucking socialite? Hell, no.
The name surprised me. A third-generation hotel heiress. Something worse than what I normally encountered—gold-digging, social-ladder-climbing, self-absorbed bitches. At least the latter would suck my cock like my cum was one-hundred-dollar bills in order to get something.
I’d dealt with that enough with my family, and I didn’t want it sleeping next to me in bed.
There was a reason I didn’t date. A reason I had acquaintances with benefits. They sure as fuck weren’t my friends.
“No,” I ground out.
“It would be a great partnership and acquisition for the company.”
“I told you. I will not do an arranged marriage. Ever. I thought I was quite clear on the matter.”
“You will do it if you wish to remain CEO.”
I rounded my desk to stand in front of him. To make him bow to my authority, my dominance. “Listen here and listen good—I refuse to take part in any arranged marriage. Stop. I have grown this company more in the last five years than you did in the twenty before.”
“Your ruthless brother had a lot to do with that.”
“Perhaps, but I initiated the deals. I’m not about to marry some soulless bitch who I can’t even get hard for. You want an heir, I’ll give you one, but I’ll choose the woman.”
His expression never wavered. “She’ll be joining us for dinner soon.”
Our eyes were locked, neither backing down. “Have fun.”
“You will be there.”
“Or what? I’m not a child anymore.”
“But you are my child, Atticus. And you will remain in control of this company by any means necessary, including taking on an arranged marriage.”
Ah, that was what it was about. Pride. He simply couldn’t handle seeing the company fall into the hands of anyone other than his progeny.
I stepped back around my desk. “I will choose my own wife, and it won’t be a marriage of obligation.”
A harsh laugh sprang from his lips. “I can’t wait to meet her, this unicorn you expect to find and engage in that stupid emotion called love and marry all in less than a year. When that fails, I will be here to pull your ungrateful ass from the fire, and you will take Amelia’s hand.”
With that, he left.
Every muscle in me was tense, coiled tight. I needed a release, and thus the phone sitting on my desk became a casualty of my anger when I grabbed it and slammed it against the far wall with a roar.
I was breathing heavily, anger rolling through me as I stared at the carnage of bent and broken plastic that lay scattered across the carpet.
Familia ante omnia. Growing up, I just thought it was referencing to family loyalty. That was not our family’s interpretation.
Family above all. Family above your own wants and desires.
An arranged marriage was the source of many of the de Loughrey family’s issues, at least within the ruling branch. Everything from cheating to children born of affairs and portraying the perfect image without the ability to understand what a functioning relationship was supposed to look like—and that was just the surface.
The younger ones were rebellious, the leash around their necks looser as attention drifted. Genevieve, my youngest sister, was a constant thorn in my side, and Penelope’s strong will to be her own person was an ongoing battle because of the microscope we were always under. Gen’s antics often took the pressure off other family members, like the twins. More precisely, Silas.
What I needed was more than a mere wife. More than someone to drain my cock. It was there, sitting just on the edge of my thoughts. What I wanted. What I needed.
A knock sounded, pulling my attention from the wreckage. “Come in.”
“Everything okay, boss?” Holly asked, closing the door behind her.
“I hate him.”
She pursed her lips and moved to stand in front of me. “Going to tell me?”
I blew out a breath. “Why are you my assistant?”
She shrugged. “Because I like annoying you.”
“But you don’t.”
She blew out a breath. “Look, Att, you’re my friend,” she began, using the nickname I despised. “I know we have this whole boss-employee relationship tangled in there as well, but I care about you. I’ve put up with the whole stick-up-your-ass de Loughrey attitude for eighteen years. Pretty sure I’m the only one who can wrangle you in.”
“While I’m pretty sure you’re my only true friend.”
She smiled and patted my cheek. “Yup. And that’s why you keep me around even when I forget to order you lunch.”
A chuckle left me, and I shook my head. “You get by because you’re the only one who can lighten my moods.”
“The curse of the gifted.”
The skyline held my attention as the conversation with my father played on repeat. He wasn’t one to make baseless threats. That wasn’t the Charles de Loughrey way. That inkling of an idea, the stir of possibility, came back to life.
The only alternative.
I let my guard down with her more than I had with anyone in my life.
“I’m about to do something truly brilliant or epically stupid.”
“I’ve got the parachutes packed.”
“Call Jack for me, have him set up an in-house sampling of the largest diamond rings in the city as soon as possible. Nothing less than a six-carat center stone.” Normally I talked with my personal assistant myself, but he and Holly had developed a great working partnership, often taking care of things without my knowledge. A good thing, as trivial matters only served to piss me off since I had little time to deal with them. For four years, Jack had been the model assistant. He perfectly handled the blend of organizing my life outside the office and rarely being seen.
She blew out a breath. “Oh, we’re jumping now.”
“I have just over eleven months to get married. Time is ticking.”
She nodded. “I’ll find a space in your schedule in the next two days. What are you going to do?”
“What else does one do when setting up a business arrangement?”
A smile lit up her face. “You see the Lethal Lawyer.”
I gave her a curt nod, and she headed out the door.
For half of my life, Holly had stood beside me. Without her friendship to calm my ire, I had little doubt I would have ended up a version of my father. Perhaps Hamilton and I would have been closer, seeing as he was much like him.
I checked my calendar, then Rhys’s, looking for a good time to talk. Through pure luck, we were both free, at least meeting-wise, and it seemed the best opportunity to pull him in on my plan.
“I’ll be back,” I said to Holly, who nodded as I headed toward the elevators. “Atticus!” Hamilton called out, stopping me in my tracks.
It wasn’t that I’d been avoiding my younger brother, simply that I’d been avoiding everyone, and that was why it took great strength to turn into his office, shutting the door behind me.
As soon as I was seated,
his grey eyes were narrowed at me.
“Why do I have a meeting scheduled with Harris Hotels?” Hamilton asked.
I blew out a breath. “Because our father is a conniving asshole.”
Hamilton let out a groan, his jaw clenching as his hands flexed. “He wants us all to dance to his tune.”
“Yes.”
“I know we haven’t talked much since the will reading. What are you going to do?”
“That’s a question I’ve been asking myself for the last few weeks. If you were in my position, what would you do?” Curiosity gnawed at me. Even though he was ruthless like our father, Hamilton also hated the idea of arranged marriages.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure he would ever marry because he hated infidelity just as much.
“Tell him to fuck off, look at my little black book, and figure out who I wanted to be wrapped around my dick for the next however many years. My advice? You already have Bridget and Antonia. Figure out which one you want to put a ring on and be done.”
Bridget and Antonia.
Hamilton wasn’t the first to mention the women I’d casually dated and fucked for years. No strings, just my dates for events and to warm my cock when I desired. They were used to the high-profile life, and they weren’t interested in me solely for money. The problem was that every single time I thought about them, tried to decide which one, those fucking brown eyes covered my vision.
Look at me.
“Mother has already started planning your wedding.”
I quirked a brow. “Has she?”
He nodded. “Elizabeth told me.”
“Wonderful,” I ground out.
“Atticus…pick someone soon. I’ll stall this meeting, push it out as far as I can, but I can’t hold Harris off forever. Father will stick his nose into things, and you know he will start the merger process without our consent.”
“I’m the fucking CEO. Hell, you are second.”
“I’m well aware. You don’t have to remind me. What you have to do is ask someone, anyone, to marry you and bring them to the family dinner.”
