Page 71 of Stolen Vows

He meets my gaze steadily, his jaw tight. “My inheritance. Set up by my grandmother before she passed. She was crafty and loved love, so her inheritance had stipulations for every grandkid.”

“What kind of stipulations?”

He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip. “One of my sisters got cash, but she could only use it to open her own bakery. My cousin got Nana Jo’s house, but she had to live in it for a year. My brother got half of Nana Jo’s stock portfolio, but he had to stop racing and settle down.” He slides his gaze to mine, arching a brow. “He was going to do it, too. But then he impulsively joined a race for a woman, so he’s out.”

“And yours?”

Graham’s voice is low and even as he explains, “The other half of her sizeable stock portfolio. If I get married.”

I blink at him, surprise and understanding dawning. “Why didn’t you marry someone then?”

He stretches his neck from one side to the other. “I have to stay married for a year.”

I arch both brows at him. “And?”

He peels his gaze from me, gluing it to the folder. “And nothing. I didn’t want to fulfill it.”

Confusion sinks my brows low. “Why now then?”

“The thing is, I’m pretty sure my brother is in love.”

“With the race girl?”

“Eloise,” he says with a nod.

The pieces of the Graham Carter puzzle are forming a little clearer with every word out of his mouth.

“And he’s settling down now? So he’ll get his inheritance and you don’t want to be left out?”

Graham shakes his head, his expression softening. “No, that’s not it at all. My brother forfeited his inheritance when he joined the race. But he only joined to be with Eloise. And it’s not right. He should get it.”

I stare at him, understanding slowly dawning. “So you want to get married, to get your inheritance, to give to your brother?”

He nods once, his jaw tight. “Half of it, yeah. He deserves to have that safety net, even if he doesn’t think he needs it right now.”

I exhale slowly, my mind spinning with the implications of Graham’s words. He wants to marry me, not for his own gain, but to help his brother. To right what he sees as a wrong, to make sure Beau isn’t left without the security their grandmother intended for him.

It’s noble and selfless and so quintessentially Graham that it makes my chest ache. This man, with his quiet intensity and unwavering loyalty, never ceases to surprise me.

I search his face, looking for any hint of deception or ulterior motive. But all I see is raw honesty. He holds my gaze, his expression open and vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen before. The intensity of it takes my breath away.

“Francesca,” he says quietly, his hands tightening on my hips.

I swallow hard, my heart racing as I stare into Graham’s dark, earnest eyes. “You’d really do that for your brother? Get married just to make sure he gets what your grandmother wanted for him?”

Graham nods, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on my hip. “He’s my brother. I’d do anything for him. For any of my family.”

There’s a fierce protectiveness in his voice, an unshakable loyalty that resonates deep in my bones. It’s the same ferocious love I long to feel the warmth of.

I close the gap between us, pressing my lips against his. It’s soft but not hesitant. It’s an acknowledgement. “You’re an incredible man, Graham Carter.”

Graham’s lips part slightly in surprise beneath mine before he responds, his mouth moving against mine with a gentle urgency. One hand slides up my back to cradle the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as he angles my head to deepen the kiss.

A soft sound escapes me, something between a sigh and a whimper, as his tongue brushes along the seam of my lips. I open for him without hesitation, the kiss shifting from tender to heated in the space of a heartbeat.

He kisses like he does everything else: with singular focus and intensity. His hand tightens in my hair, the slight tug sending a delicious shiver down my spine. His other arm bands around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

Heat blooms low in my belly, curling through me like a slow, consuming fire. I moan, breath hitching, and he swallows the sound, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, deliberate and possessive.

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