I might have jumped the gun when I announced Iris and I would be getting married in two weeks rather than a month. In retrospect, I wanted to make sure she didn’t find the first opportunity to back out of our engagement. But now, I have to face the consequences of my actions.
“I expect you to be moved into my home by the end of the weekend.” I walk past Iris’s desk and toward the door of my private office.
She looks up from her computer screen. “What?”
“You can charge the moving company to my card.”
“You want me to move in this weekend?”
“Yes.”
“But tomorrow is Saturday.”
I take a deep breath as I lean against the doorframe. “Your point being?”
She runs her hands down her face and groans. “There’s no moving company that is going to be available at the last minute like that.”
“They will be for a price.”
“But I’d have to break my lease early.”
“I’ll cover the cost.”
“Or I can still keep the place just in case—”
I cut her off. “How do you think it would look to the public if they found out you kept your place ‘just in case’?”
Her bottom lip wobbles. “But I love my apartment.”
“I’m sure there’s a certain charm about living next to active crime scenes, but you’ll get over it.”
“I live in Hyde Park, not a war zone.”
“Lived in Hyde Park. As in you are no longer a resident as of tomorrow.”
Her eyes narrow. “So that’s it? You snap your fingers and I’m supposed to do what you say like some obedient wife, no questions asked?”
“You’ve been practicing for years already, so there shouldn’t be a steep learning curve.”
My comment earns me a stress ball launched at my head and one wheezy laugh that can be heard all the way through my closed office door.
Think about your future. My right eye twitches as Iris hauls another potted plant into my house. At this rate, my home is going to be turned into a plant nursery. Spilled soil marks the hardwood floors to serve as a reminder of how my perfectly organized life is being turned on its head.
I walk around three other plants the size of small trees before reaching my front door. Iris speaks to one of the plants in a hushed voice, stroking one of its leaves while apologizing for uprooting its life. She’s insane. There’s no other way to describe someone who coos at plants like they’re children.
At least she’ll make a decent mother.
I mute my phone so the head of our auditing department doesn’t hear me. “Is that all? You’re letting all the heat out of the house.” I point at the open front door. On cue, a gust of wind batters against me.
Iris rubs her hands together before blowing on them. “You know, all of this would go a lot faster if you helped me.”
“I don’t do manual labor.”
“Then thank God we’re not having a child the old-fashioned way or else I’d be stuck doing all the work.”
Any rebuttal gets trapped in my throat, which only makes her laugh.
“You think you’re funny?”
“I’d rather be that than a lazy lay.” She runs out the door, obviously pleased with herself for stunning me into silence.
I almost forget about the person on the other line until they start speaking. Iris’s chaotic presence is already wreaking havoc on my life, and I wonder how I’m going to survive three years of her living here. My whole space is tainted with her shit, from the colorful blankets strewn across my pristine couch to a few framed photos of two women I’ve yet to meet.
I try my hardest to focus on the conversation, but I’m only half paying attention to whatever is said. My ability to concentrate has been severely impaired ever since Iris’s moving truck showed up in my driveway.
Twenty minutes later, Iris drops onto the floor in a heap. “All done!” Her two braids fan out around her, covered in snowflakes. A few spiral curls escaped the tight plait during the moving process and stick to her face. Her baby-pink winter jacket looks out of place—a complete contrast to my black suit, shoes, and soul.
I scan the perimeter, noting fewer than ten boxes. “You have more plants than things.”
She laughs up to the ceiling. “I’m a crazy plant lady. What else can I say?”
“Nothing is preferable.”
Her body shakes from silent laughter as she stands. “How does it feel to have someone in your space?”
“Loud.”
“Imagine how you’ll feel once you have a child running around here and screaming.”
“I’ll invest in a bark collar.”
She blinks. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck. Of course I’m not being serious.”
She lets out a whoosh of air.
“Although a sound-proofed bedroom doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
Her brows jump. “For them or you?”
“Them. Mine was remodeled years ago.”
She instantly becomes interested in looking at anything but my face. What I’d pay to hear a second of her thoughts.
Millions. Maybe even billions.
“So…” She rocks back on her boots as she assesses her belongings. “How exactly do we go about this situation?”
Right. Stick to the plan.
I grunt as I grab a heavy box off the top of one pile. “What are you carrying in here?”
She peeks at the handwriting on the side of the box. “My high heels.”
“They’ll look great inside of the fireplace.”
She jumps up and tries to swipe her precious cargo out of my hands. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Destroying her shoe collection would be worth her anger. They’ve been on my shit list ever since Iris found a loophole in her employment contract regarding workwear. Instead of following the office dress code of neutrals only, she tests my patience with neck-breaking heels and accessories the color of the rainbow.
At least she lives up to her name.
“You should know better than to underestimate me after all this time.”
She puts a hand on her hip. “Declan Lancelot Kane. I swear if one single shoe goes missing, I will—”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
She grins. “Would you prefer for me to use the more formal Sir Lancelot?”
“What I prefer is your silence.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re no fun.”
“This isn’t supposed to be fun.” Yet it certainly doesn’t feel like work.
Exactly why all this is a bad idea.
It’s easy to fall into a comfortable rhythm with Iris. Almost too easy.
“I swear, you’re going to die of a heart attack one day from all this pent-up angst. It’s not good for your blood pressure.”
I ignore her as I walk toward the staircase. “I’ll show you to our room.”
“Our room?” She trips over her boots.
“I can’t have the housekeeper speaking out against the legitimacy of our agreement.”
“Right. Of course.” She nods with a doe-eyed expression so unlike her usual quick rebuttals.
She’s nervous. I give her my back, concealing my small smile as I lead Iris up the grand staircase toward my bedroom. She helps me with the door, and it opens to reveal my favorite space in the whole house. The light blue walls and white furniture stand out against the dark wood floors.
“Wow. It’s a lot brighter than I expected.”
“Contrary to popular belief, coffins don’t make for comfortable sleeping arrangements.”
Her howl of a laugh makes my lips twitch in response.
I drop the box near the entrance to her empty closet. “You’ll keep your clothes in here.”
“But I’m not—we’re not—you don’t expect me to—” Her eyes dart around the space, not quite landing on anything.
My ability to be the only person who can throw her off-kilter fills me with a burning sense of satisfaction.
“Sleep in the same bed as me?” I finish for her.
Her throat bobs as she nods. “Right. That.”
“No.”
She gnaws on her bottom lip. “Thank God. That would have been awkward.”
“Right.” The back of my neck prickles. “In the house, we can act how we want. But in public, I expect you to appear affectionate toward me.”
“Are you sure you can stand my touch for extended periods of time?”
“It’ll push me to my limits, but I’ll make do.” I step into her walk-in closet and open the door on the other end.
She halts. “You built a hidden door to another room? In a closet?!”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“Because I was preparing for something like this.” The words slip past my lips easily.
“Wait.” She holds up her hand. “People prepare for fake marriages?”
“It’s to be expected once you reach a certain tax bracket.”
Her nose crinkles. “That’s gross.”
“No. It’s life.”
She stares at me with parted lips. I turn around and enter the second bedroom. The colors complement my master suite, but instead of blues, the walls are covered in a pale yellow.
“This is beautiful.” One of her hands traces the lacy bedspread. The room is large, with its own sitting area, bathroom, and windows overlooking the expansive backyard.
“You can decorate it however you want. I only ask that you keep on top of cleaning since the housekeeper isn’t permitted to enter.”
She looks up at me. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“Everything except for you.”
“Looks like Iris is making herself at home. I’m sure you love that.” Cal assesses one of the plants she added to the corner of our living room. My home has slowly turned into a nursery, with new plants arriving every day to fill empty corners and blank walls.
I ignore him as I take a sip of my drink. “How is the progress on your part of Grandfather’s will?”
He shrugs. “What’s the rush? It’s not like you’re becoming CEO tomorrow.”
“No, but if I have my way, I will be by the end of the year.”
His brows rise. “Does Iris know about this accelerated timeline?”
“She knew the deal when she signed the contract.”
His brows jump. “Doesn’t mean she’s ready to have a child right now.”
“Good thing she will have an additional nine months to warm up to the idea then.”
A noise gets trapped in the back of his throat. “And here we thought marrying her would humanize you a bit.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you respect her.”
“I do.” Her ability to work by my side as a resource rather than a hindrance already puts her leaps and bounds ahead of anyone else. She is quick on her feet and willing to go above and beyond to ensure I’m successful, even if it means marrying me and having my child. I couldn’t pay for that kind of loyalty. I tried, but after scaring off multiple fiancées, I’m well aware of how much I need Iris. If she thinks we will become the best of friends because of it, then so be it.
“And we know you are attracted to her.”
That is new. “Who is this we you keep speaking of?”
“Rowan and I.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do than gossip about me behind my back? Like, oh I don’t know, go find Alana and do whatever Grandpa asked you to do?” Cal avoiding his ex-girlfriend will only last so long, especially when Grandpa put a time limit on his inheritance clause. He needs to reach out to her by the end of the year if he plans on ever obtaining his part of the company shares. After all the grief he has given me about my part, the least I can do is remind him of his lack of initiative.
His jaw ticks. “It’s not going to work.”
“What?”
“You trying to get a rise out of me because you’re feeling defensive about Iris.”
“Why would I feel the need to be defensive?”
“You tell me since you were the one who said you didn’t care who you married, so long as they were… How did you phrase it again?” He taps his chin. “Oh right. ‘Practical, fertile, and has a face considered proportionate enough to be deemed attractive.’”
My fingers gripping the glass tighten. “I know what I said.”
“Didn’t seem to age well, did it?”
My jaw clenches. “What’s your point in bringing all this up?”
“I mention it as a warning.”
I don’t speak, instead choosing to take a long sip of my drink.
“You might be my brother, but Iris is my best friend. And while I want you to succeed and become CEO, I won’t let you destroy her in your pursuit of whatever you think might make you happy.”
I offer him a bored glance. “If Iris is concerned, she can speak to me herself. She doesn’t need to send her guard dog after me.”
“She’s not concerned, but I am.”
“If this is what friendship entails, I see why I’m better off without it.”
His lips press into a thin line. “Don’t break her heart.”
A soft chuckle spills out of me. “That should be the least of your worries.”
“Of course I worry. You’re a cold-hearted bastard who doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of someone else.”
“I helped raise you and you turned out decent enough.”
His jaw locks. “We’re your blood. You’re forced to like us, whether you want to or not.”
“Blood doesn’t mean shit to me. You of all people should know that.”
Taking care of my brothers had nothing to do with our shared DNA. I promised my mom before she died that I would be there for them, and I upheld my end of our deal regardless of the personal consequences.
He looks away with a sigh. “Just take care of her.”
My heart pounds harder against my chest as I reassess this entire conversation. A chill makes its way down my spine. “Are you in love with her?” The question comes out far more agitated than I’d like.
His eyes brighten as he laughs. “No.”
“For some reason, I’m finding that hard to believe.” Based on the way he speaks of her, I would be stupid to think they were solely platonic.
“We kissed once.”
Blood rushes to my ears, and I can feel the tips turning red. “You what?” The lethality in my voice draws Cal’s eyes back to mine.
“It was a mistake.”
“It sure as fuck better be.” The glass tumbler beneath my hand shakes from how hard I grip the cylinder.
His lips curve at the corners. “I knew you were jealous.”
“As if I could ever be jealous of someone like you.”
He winks. “The way you look like you want to murder me says otherwise.”
“Torture is my preferred method of revenge, just so you’re aware.”
He breaks out into a full-blown smile. “If it makes you feel better, the kiss was terrible.”
How the fuck is that supposed to make me feel better? I can’t get the image of them kissing out of my goddamn brain, no matter how much I try to wipe my mind of the last five minutes of this conversation.
Why does it bother you in the first place?
Because she told me they are just friends.
Right. You keep telling yourself that.
“You’re really selling me on the idea of marrying her,” I reply with a dry voice despite the anger burning within me.
His chest shakes from quiet laughter. “It had nothing to do with her. I was drunk, and she was lonely. The result was awkward to say the least.”
“She was lonely?”
“Of course she is. Her being friends with me should have been your first clue.”
“I wasn’t aware she felt that way.”
“What? Do you expect her to talk to you about it? Unlike the rest of the human population, you like being by yourself.”
I bite down on my tongue to prevent myself from saying too much. Growing accustomed to something doesn’t mean I like it. I just learned to prefer it over the alternative option, which includes letting people get too close. What’s the point when they always leave anyway?
I take a sip of my drink to wash away the bitter taste of weakness from my mouth. “Kiss her again and I’ll enjoy ripping your tongue from your throat.”
He holds up his hands. “The only reason I told you about our kiss is so that you can stop thinking I want to make a move on her. I’m not interested in her like that. Trust me.”
“Because the kiss was terrible,” I repeat back in a voice erased of any emotion.
“Because she was never meant to be mine in the first place.”
Damn right she wasn’t. Fake marriage or not, Iris is destined to be with one man and one man only.
Me.
