Page 3 of Her Ex's Father
“I apologize as well.”
A warm hand envelopes mine and I startle. Benedict Bronson’s fingers wrap around my own as he lifts my hand to his mouth, ghosting a kiss over the knuckles.
“Madeline. You look beautiful. Congratulations.”
The last word comes out sour, twisted, and it’s obvious how he feels about his failure of a son—hisonlyson—as his eyes stray toward Derrick once more. But I barely notice, stiff as a board with the electricity I felt as soon as his mouth grazed my fingers.
“No problem at all, no problem, Benedict,” my father rumbles, leading Mr. Bronson away with a hand on his shoulder. “What would you like to drink?”
My mother swaggers after them, shooting a blissful smile at the still-murmuring guests as she goes. The orchestra picks up again, insistent and louder. Derrick fidgets at my side.
He checks his phone.
“Somewhere better to be?” I murmur, trying to ignore Stella’s incredulous stare and Aunt Bea’s hushed whispers nearby.
He flips his shaggy hair back, runs a hand through it. Derrick Bronson is effortlessly handsome, though much slimmer than his father. His eyes are almond-shaped and brown. He must get it from his mother, but I’m not sure; I’ve never met Georgiana Bronson. She passed years ago, before I ever found out that Derrick and I were fated to be together.
I wonder howshe’dfeel about her son’s late arrival to his own engagement party.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, turning his phone over and over in his palm like it’s a fidget toy, “flight landed late, got off the ground late.”
My nose scrunches. “Are youdrunk?”
He scoffs. “No. Not drunk, just… tipsy. I don’t like flying,” he rushes on as my arms cross. His eyes drop to my cleavage. Ballsy—he has no interest in marrying me, but very obvious interest in the activities that are practically included in the contract.
I’m supposed to have a child in the first three years.
A way to guarantee that my family’s business, and his family’s legacy, continues on. Crown & Range, started by my grandfather eighty years ago, is one of the strongest distilleries in the Midwest. In fact, Bronson Hall stocks all of their locations with our whisky, bourbon, gin, and liqueurs. Pairing with Benedict Bronson was my father’s greatest—and only—personal achievement when it comes to the business. He managed to tie down the contract when he was twenty-five; and only five years ago he set up another.
This time, to pairmeoff with the Bronson heir.
“Just try to look like you don’t hate the idea of marrying me,” I murmur to Derrick with a smile, slipping my arm into his.
He’s restless, but we make one round of the patio and greet guests before he dips off to grab a drink and find a few of his friends.
“This is crazy,” Heather, one of my childhood friends from town, blurts out when she finds me—alone again. “I can’t believe you’re marrying him, Mad.”
“Mm, well, I don’t have much of a choice.”
“You know, I used to think he was a catch,” she muses, head tipped to the side. “Heisvery handsome.”
“He is. At least our kid will be cute, I guess.”
There’s a very pregnant silence as we realize that in three years or less, I’ll have a child with this man. “Thisis a nightmare,” I moan, stepping away and onto the grass, stumbling in my heels. I toe them off and sink my feet into our land.
“It is pretty crazy. I mean, remember our whole plan tonever get married?”
I smile at the reminder—a promise we made in middle school, which little Stella was appalled by. My sister, at least, still believes in true love.
“Does she know you’re doing this for her?” Heather asks quietly.
I shake my head. But it’s the truth; if I don’t marry someone to secure the family’s future, it’ll fall to Stella. And I don’t want to shatter her dreams just yet.
I want to let her believe that love is real, even if I’ll never get a shot at it.
“Excuse me, everyone,” a voice announces over the sound system, “dinner will be served shortly. Please find your seats.”
Everyone is, for the most part, settled when I lay my eyes on Benedict Bronson once more.
