Page 18 of Lucas
“I need a wife, Ava. And you’re going to be it.”
The world tilts on its axis. I grip the back of an armchair to keep from staggering, a hysterical bubble of laughter clawing up my throat as I sink into the chair.
“I’m sorry, I think I just hallucinated. Could you repeat that last bit? Because it sounded an awful lot like you just proposed marriage.”
“Marriage of convenience,” he clarifies, having the audacity to look impatient. As if I’m the one being absurd. “It appears that my habit of seeking adventure is considered a disadvantage. They want reassurance of my ability to settle down—to put the company first. A wife would lessen their fears of my...impulsivity.”
“You can’t possibly think I would agree to this insanity. To shackling myself to you in some kind of sham marriage. For what? Your professional gain? I’d rather set myself on fire.”
He must be joking. I study his face—the sharp jawline tightening, lips pressed into a firm line. He doesn’t look like he’s joking.
He looks like a statue that should be up in a central square for everyone to admire his beauty.I would smash it with rocks.
He clicks his tongue. “So dramatic. And here I thought you were the pragmatic one. Just hear me out. We would only need to keep up appearances in public. Smile for the cameras, and attend some events arm in arm, but behind closed doors, it would be strictly a business relationship. No expectations beyond playing our roles.”
I fold my arms across my chest, an unladylike snort escaping me. “Oh, is that all? Piece of cake. I should have no problem pretending to be madly in love with the man who makes my skin crawl. You’re right, that doesn’t sound like hell on earth at all.”
One corner of his mouth kicks up. “You say that, but your body is telling a different story. Your pulse has kicked up a few notches since I walked in. You keep uncrossing and recrossing your legs. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s not revulsion you’re feeling right now, but...attraction?”
His blue eyes glitter, and I curse my fair skin as a hot flush creeps up my chest to my cheeks.
Asshole. I want to smack the smug look right off his stupidly perfect face.
“You’re delusional. I’m not attracted to you. I’m shocked and appalled by the sheer audacity of this ridiculous scheme of yours.” So what if my traitorous body sometimes reacts to his bone-deep sexiness on a purely primal level? It means nothing. I still can’t stand him.
He shrugs. “I’m not looking for love, Ava. Love is a weakness, a distraction. It hands people the power to manipulate you, to bring you to your knees. I have no use for it.” Something dark and painful flashes across his eyes before it’s quickly shuttered away behind his usual veneer of calculated charm.
“Let me make this simple for you,” he says. “I need a wife to secure my position as CEO. You need an influx of capital to keep Gant Construction from going under.”
My heart stutters in my chest. I’ve just tumbled down the rabbit hole and landed in some bizarre alternate universe.
“You’re insane. There’s no way I’m agreeing to this farce, no matter how many zeros you tack on to your bribe.”
“It’s not a bribe, it’s an incentive. And a damn generous one. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Gant has what, a hundred seventy mil in outstanding debt? Rapidly approaching the big red line of bankruptcy?”
I go rigid, ice crystallizing in my veins. “How the hell do you know that?” I whisper. “That’s privileged information, not public record.”
“I have my sources. The point is, I’m offering you a Get Out of Jail Free card. All you have to do is put a ring on it and squeeze out a few tears of joy for the camera. Nothing more.”
Fighting for composure, I dig my nails into my palms hard enough to leave crescent moons. As much as it kills me to admit it, he’s not wrong. Gant is hemorrhaging money at an alarming rate, and my options for a cash injection are slim to none. No bank in their right mind would extend credit to a failing company, and seeking outside investors at this point would be tantamount to selling my soul.
“This is a lot to take in,” I hedge, hating the tremor in my voice. “I’ll need some time to think it over.”
“Of course.” He rises to his feet and walks to the door, hands tucked in the pockets of his well-tailored slacks. “Just don’t think too long. The board is eager to move forward with the announcement. And your father has already given his blessing to the match.”
I whip my head around so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. “I’m sorry, what?”
No. No way. Not even Michael Gant’s all-consuming lust for power and profit would drive him to sell his only daughterto the highest bidder. To a Valeur, no less. We may have a strained relationship, but he’s not a monster.
Is he?
Lucas pauses with his hand on the doorknob, head cocked like he’s savoring my shock. “Oh, did I forget to mention that? Silly me. Yes, Daddy Dearest agreed to our little arrangement yesterday. Said it was the answer to all his prayers.”
The blood drains from my face, and a dull roar fills my ears. He’s lying. He has to be. This is all some sick game, a twisted power move in our families’ endless tug-of-war.
But even as I try to reject the idea, the cold wash of dread in my gut tells me it’s true. My father has always put legacy before love, duty before daughterly devotion. If he thinks whoring me out to a Valeur will save his crumbling empire...
“I’ll expect your call,” Lucas says, slipping out into the night, leaving only the faint trace of his cologne and the ruins of my life in his wake.
