Page 33 of The Rejected Wife

He glances around, voice suddenly serious. “You, too, could live in style and not in this—” He looks back at me.

I pop my shoulder. "I like my hovel. I earned it on my own merit, too."

The skin around his eyes softens. "And I’m proud of you, Pri. I knew it would do you good to earn your living and be away from the family money. But there comes a time when one must also deliver on one’s responsibilities to the family."

"You mean, like you are?" I tip up my chin. “Besides, our father disowned me, remember?”

“But I haven’t.” He tilts his head. “And neither have your other brothers.”

In addition to Tor, I have four other older brothers. All of whom are protective. My mother was the only other feminine presence in the house. And when she died, it felt like I’d lost someone who’d have been my greatest ally in that male dominated household. Perhaps, that’s why I felt compelled to go out into the world to find my place?

Not that I've succeeded, yet.Is that whyI empathized so much with Serene? At least, I knew my mother didn’t have a choice in leaving me. For Serene—she’ll have to grow up with the knowledge that her mother gave her up. Poor mite.

"I took over the family business so I could take care of all of you. It certainly wasn’t out of love for our sperm donor." His eyes grow hard, his lips firm.

Nope, there was certainly no love lost between him and our father. He expected a lot from his sons. Enough for him to be at loggerheads with my brothers.

"I assume business is going well?”

Tor’s features turn into granite. "Getting the board to embrace new technology has been challenging. Left to them, they’d run the company into the ground.”

“But that’s where you come in, right?”

“And you,” he points out.

My brother is ruthless, highly successful and used to getting his way. Another reason I’m intrigued by the fact he’s not simply commanding me to do whatever it is he came here to ask of me.

"You’re deflecting." I take a sip of my coffee.

He seems taken aback, then nods. "I am." He squares his shoulders. "I want you to consider an arranged marriage."

Surprise twists my guts. Arranged marriages aren’t unusual in wealthy families like mine—but I never thought my brother would suggest one.

He must see how taken aback I am, for he raises his hand. “I know. You didn’t expect me to say that, and I’d never coax you into it. It’s only a possibility I want to raise with you.”

I blink, trying to get my head around what he’s suggesting.

“I’ll be honest. You marrying this person will help me expand the Whittington Group’s market share. And again, I want to stress—” He raises his hand. “You’re under no compulsion to accept it.”

I shake my head. “Why suggest it to me then?"

“Because—” He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Because I’m not one to pry in your personal life, as you know, but as your brother, I’m concerned that you are, uh—suffering from affairs of the heart and, perhaps, this might be one way for you to move on?”

I search his features, looking for any clue that he knows what’s occurred in my life over the last few months, but Tor being Tor, he gives nothing away. “Is this you making an educated guess, or?—”

“It’s my summation, since you haven't answered my calls, and you missed our dinner. And now that I've seen you in person, given how bedraggled you look—” He raises his hands in a gesture that’s meant to convey that he was right.

“Thanks, big brother; you always were good for my ego.” I begin to pace. This out-of-the-blue suggestion from Tor has taken me totally by surprise. I don’t know what to make of it. On the other hand, it’s the first time in months I haven’t thought of Tyler, so there’s that. I blow out a breath. But an arranged marriage? Nah, that’s so not me. The thought is ridiculous. Then, just for shits and giggles, and because I’m just a little curious, I turn to my brother and ask, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Tor seems to have been expecting the question because without preamble he says, “It’s one of the Davenport brothers.”

18

Tyler

“Come on, honey, just one more mouthful.” I offer the spoon with the boiled vegetables and the half cube of cheese to Serene.

She raises her hand and knocks my hand aside. The vegetables bounce off my shirt. The half cube of cheese joins its twin on the floor. I wince. Did I really think I could get her to eat her lunch and tuck her in for a nap while I jumped on my conference call? When am I going to realize I’m now on someone else’s time schedule?

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