Gracie gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s certainly worth a try. At this point, you don’t have anything to lose.” She thought about saying more but stopped. The trick was not to be too pushy. All week long, she’d been dropping hints in an attempt to make Stewart go along with her plan. But the key element was making him think it was his idea. She’d approached the whole thing from the angle of a concerned friend, whose only aim was to help her boss navigate through a sticky situation with his out-of-control daughter. As far as he knew, she didn’t have a dog in the fight.
Stewart leaned back in his seat and propped his arms behind his head. “I suppose it could work. Brooke and Nash were once in love. Maybe they can find that again … if given a little push.” Doubt crept into his eyes. “On the other hand, Brooke will hate me for forcing her hand.”
“She’ll be upset at first, but eventually she’ll understand that you only want what’s best for her.” She gave him a pointed look. “What other alternatives do you have? If you hadn’t hired thatdetective to follow her to Vegas, Brooke would now be married to some opportunistic cowboy she met in a bar.”
He shuddered. “You make a good point. Tell me again about your friends. You say they’re happy?”
“Oh, happy doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she said, adopting a blissful tone. “They’re one of the most content couples I’ve ever met. Perfectly suited for each other and just had their first child. Of course you have to understand that in India, arranged marriages are very common.”
“But you said they live here now? In the US?”
“Yes.”
He removed his hands from his head and began drumming them on his desk. “Astounding. I never put much stock into arranged marriages. It just goes to show how little I know when it comes to matters of the heart.” He frowned. “But what if Brooke and Nash can’t make a go of it.”
She spread her hands. “Then you will have at least given them the opportunity. It’s only for eighteen months, and you will have helped a friend in need.”
Time seemed to stand still as he formed a steeple with his fingers and brought them to his lips. Gracie could tell from the look on his face that he was doing some heavy thinking. She’d pushed as much as she could, and now it was up to him to decide. She held her breath, waiting.
“Okay, let’s do it,” he finally said in the brisk voice of the seasoned businessman accustomed to making hard decisions and standing by them, regardless of the consequences. “Call my attorney and have him draw up the paperwork. I’ll pay a visit to the ranch in the morning and run the whole thing by Luther. If he agrees, then we’ll move forward.” He gave her a firm look. “Whatever you do … don’t breathe a word of this to Brooke.”
She made a zipping motion across her lips. “Wild horses couldn’t drag it from me.”
A thousand thoughts jumbled in Brooke’s mind as she paced back and forth across the floor, hardly noticing the luxurious surroundings of the bridal dressing room at Ashton Gardens. She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact that she was getting married in the very place where she was going to wed Dawson, but the circumstances were a world away from what she’d planned. As usual, her mother had spared no expense and insisted that Brooke get the most spectacular wedding dress they could find. On the surface, it was a dream wedding and yet, the whole thing was a miserable sham.
When her daddy first presented his plan, she thought it was some twisted joke to get back at her for running off to Vegas. But as he began outlining the details, she came to the sickening realization that he was dead serious. The terms of the contract were as simple as they were nonnegotiable. She and Nash were to wed. They would stay married for eighteen months, during which time Brooke was required to live at his ranch and spend a minimum of four hours a day by Nash’s side. Per the contract, her father was giving Luther several cash infusions that would keep the ranch afloat, and then Luther would receive a final lump sum at the end of the eighteen months.
Brooke would receive a monthly stipend to cover expenses. At the end of the eighteen months, she would gain access to her entire trust fund, meaning that she would finally be a woman of means and no longer forced to depend on her father for support. If she failed in any way to comply with the terms of the contract, then she would be cut off without a penny. Upon hearing that part, she’d burst into tears, pleading with her daddy to reconsider. When that didn’t work, she resorted to yellingand screaming, calling him cruel and heartless. None of her antics so much as nudged him to reconsider, which was strange because she could usually wear him down to the point where he would give in. But this time, all of her fit pitching fell on deaf ears. Then he began spouting off drivel about how he felt partly responsible for the Vegas incident because he’d always given her everything she wanted. He told her it was time to grow up and be responsible. He even went so far as to say that the only time she’d ever been truly happy was when she was with Nash—a gross exaggeration in her opinion!He ended the speech by telling her that this marriage was her unique opportunity to find happiness again.
Happiness! Not hardly!She scowled. The only thing that would make her happy would be to get as far away from this place and Nash Rigby as she could. Without warning, a tingle of excitement crept up her spine. Even as she squelched the treacherous thought another sprouted in its place. She was getting married to Nash! She’d lost count of the number of times she’d dreamt of this moment. He’d rocked her world in a way no one else had. And then he’d wounded her so deeply that she’d never really gotten over it. Her hands went sweaty as she clenched them into fists. She wondered what Nash was doing at this very moment, probably lamenting the fact that he was going to be shackled to her for eighteen months. Nash was so headstrong and free spirited that she could only imagine what agreeing to this marriage contract had cost him. He must’ve been pretty hard up to go through with it.Nash and his precious ranch!All he ever really cared about was his ranch and riding those stupid bulls!A surge of anger pumped through her veins like poison as she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Was marriage to her so terrible? Most guys would kill to marry her. She stopped in her tracks, her mind racing with the possibilities. Maybe she was looking at this all wrong. Shewas a mere eighteen months away from gaining her financial independence, and the only person standing in her way was Nash. In less than one hour, he would be her husband. Nash Rigby would be forced to stay by her side for at least four hours a day for eighteen months. A grim smile spread over her lips. She could make him pay for all of the things he’d done to her. She could make his life a living hell—get her sweet revenge. Maybe then she would finally be able to put the past behind her and purge Nash Rigby from her system once and for all.
“You look absolutely beautiful. A vision.” Evie stepped up to her, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “I just can’t believe this day is finally here.”
“Yeah, that makes two of us,” Brooke said tartly, rolling her eyes.
“Nash looks so handsome in his tux.” She leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “you should see him out there—as jittery as a long-tailed cat on a porch full of rocking chairs.” Her eyes sparkled. “He loves you, Brooke. He always has. This is your chance at happiness. Y’all were meant to be together.” She took hold of her hands and squeezed them. “I’m so proud of you.”
Proud? Really?As usual, her mother had deluded herself into believing that this was a real marriage rather than some cruel parody. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them away. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she squeaked, walking swiftly in order to get away.
“I’m right about this,” Evie called. “You mark my word! You’ll see!”
Brooke studied her reflection in the full-length mirror. The one consolation in all of this was that she looked stunning. Her glossy hair was swept up into a sophisticated chignon that accentuated her pronounced cheekbones and delicate jaw line. She pursed her full lips, critically studying her reflection. She’d pulled out all of the stops, including sculpted eyebrows, eyelash extensions, a mani pedi, and a spray tan. She figured she might as well show Nash all that he would be missing in this sham marriage, for while she was forced to be near him in body, he would never again lay claim to her heart. Her gaze trailed down to her dress. It was the dress of her dreams—a masterpiece from designer Victor Harper that had cost a whopping twenty-two grand. If her daddy were determined to force her into this, then, by golly, she was going to do her best to make him pay through the nose. The top section that covered her shoulders and arms was sheer with the slightest hint of silver. The bodice was done in a delicate floral pattern that was embellished with beading and the Austrian crystals, which were so characteristic of the designer. She ran her hands over the satiny silk that molded to her toned body, creating a silhouette. Layers of soft organza silk flared at the bottom, drawing attention to her legs.
It was in that moment that something inside of her shifted. She stood, staring at her reflection, seeing a stranger—a pathetic woman who couldn’t get a groom on her own, even if her life depended on it. Nash was being forced to marry her. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t go through with this! For all of her tough, self-affirmations, she was a lousy fraud! Nash would see right through her. She couldn’t go through that hurt again. The humiliation of knowing that she’d given him her all and he rejected her. Her nerves were jumping like a scared rabbit, and she felt nauseous. She leaned forward, placing the palms of her hands on the sink for support. What in the heck was she going todo? She didn’t want to end up penniless! And she couldn’t marry Nash! She was backed into a corner with nowhere to go.
The door behind her opened. “Not now, Mother,” she growled.
There was a nervous clearing of the throat. “Hello.”
She turned, surprised to see the woman standing in front of her. Irritation flickered over her as she waved a hand in dismissal. “This restroom is private and reserved for the bride. You’ll have to find another one.”
“I’m not here to use the restroom.” Slight pause. “I’m here to see you.”
“Me? Why? Are you with Ashton Gardens?” She frowned, eyeing the woman. “And for your sake, I hope you haven’t messed something up, because if you have, my mother will have your hide.” She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Heads will roll, if you get my drift.”
“I’m not with Ashton Gardens.” There was a hostile expression on the woman’s face as she looked Brooke up and down.
Unease trickled down Brooke’s spine. “Who are you?”