Chapter 6 Cole Present Day
Cole
Present Day
Moonlight illuminated the crumbling stretch of uninspiring pebble-dash houses.
I should have instructed my driver to return me to London, but Charlotte looked sadder than I’d ever seen her, and I had to fix that.
The world was full of pricks who deserved whatever shit they got, but not her. Charlotte only deserved good things.
The pact rang in my head. If neither of us is married by the time we’re thirty, we marry each other.
It was a silly promise made between teenagers, but I’d meant it.
I’d always seen my future with Charlotte.
My father had ripped me away from here. I’d never wanted to leave Ecclesdale without this woman.
Maybe it wasn’t so silly. Maybe it was the answer to my prayers.
It was an audacious notion, but nothing good in business came without risk.
What if I married Charlotte Ackroyd? It was an arrangement that would work for both of us.
She was everything Lucas told me the shareholders wanted.
Sweet. Wholesome. Authentic. Charlotte Ackroyd was toasting marshmallows around a campfire in human form.
Leadership more aligned with the brand? Charlotte looked like an angel with her guileless hazel eyes and hair the perfect shade of chestnut.
I could knock these shareholders out with a wife who was the very embodiment of the fucking brand.
If notorious family man Gabe Rivers saw me with my lovely, wholesome wife, then who was he to think me an arsehole?
He’d been a playboy once and somehow he’d convinced everyone that now he had integrity, so why couldn’t I?
With Charlotte on my arm, everyone would think I was an outstanding human being.
A man who looked past the glittering socialites and heiresses and married his down-to-earth childhood sweetheart.
A man of the people. All Charlotte had to do was show her face at a few corporate events, and then she could go back to whatever she wanted to do, like an employee.
A wife/employee. I’d help get her out of here and give her enough money to live a fabulous life.
One thing was certain, I couldn’t leave her alone in this village. Not with all that sorrow around her pretty eyes. She’d been the happiest person I’d ever known, and now she was so pale and fragile-looking. It wouldn’t do.
“I’m going inside. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
My driver inclined his head. “Right you are, Mr. Thorner.”
I got out of the car. Rain pelted my Armani suit as I strode up the drive to number fourteen.
Moss bloomed in the window frames of the beat-up teal Mini Cooper parked outside.
The car had a flat tire, and duct tape securing the windscreen.
Charlotte’s car? Probably. From all accounts, Roy had been housebound for the past couple of years.
I knocked again. Seconds turned into an eternity as I waited. I’d stood in front of this door so many times as a kid. This house had seen better days. A crack marred the small window in the entryway. The flowers in pots on the step were brown and wilted.
A swell of nerves washed over me. Was this crazy?
It felt crazy. Normally, there would be a plan.
Meetings. Spreadsheets. Contingencies. I didn’t act on an idea until I’d figured out the next ten steps.
I smoothed my tie with clammy hands. I never got clammy hands.
No. This was fine. It made perfect sense.
I had to make sure Charlotte could see how it made perfect sense.
If she wanted to put more adventures on her Wikipedia page, I could take her out of this village and show her the world.
Finally, Charlotte swung the door open. Red rimmed her glassy eyes.
She still wore the tight black shift dress she’d had on earlier, but her dark-chestnut hair was piled on her head in a messy bun.
My heart hammered. I’d mixed with some of the most desirable women on the planet.
Women didn’t make me nervous. But Charlotte always had.
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Cole?”
Her tongue swiped out to lick her full lips.
It was a nervous habit. I’d done my best to train myself out of all those tells and unconscious tics that gave away your true feelings.
I supposed Charlotte hadn’t had cause to do the same.
Memories of the time I’d kissed her battered me.
Not my first kiss, but a kiss that had altered my brain chemistry.
I’d never had a kiss anything like it since.
I’d never even fucked a woman and felt anything close to that rush in my chest. She was so beautiful.
God. I’d missed her voice, her hair, her gentleness, her mouth.
She frowned and swiped at her damp cheeks. “I don’t know why you’re here, but honestly it’s not a good time.”
This is reckless. This is what reckless people do. “I know. But I have a proposal.”
She tapped her foot impatiently. “What proposal?”
Focus, Cole. Not reckless. This is business. Good business. “A literal proposal. I want you to marry me.”
Her brow drew downward into a frown. She stared at me like I was a door-to-door salesman she was humoring but wouldn’t consider buying from in a million years. “Not now. I’m not in the mood for bullshit.”
Then she shut the door in my face.
I had to knock three times before Charlotte returned to open the door.
“What is it?” Her tone rang with weary impatience.
I peered past her into the dark house. “I was hoping you’d invite me in.”
“Why? Are you a vampire? Do you need an explicit invitation before you cross a threshold?” She looked me up and down and her lips curled slightly. “You’d make a good vampire, actually.”
“It must be that air of mystery I’ve spent years cultivating.”
She raised a sarcastic brow. “I meant the fact you disappear without a trace more than a decade ago and then pop up again looking like you haven’t aged a day.”
She thought I hadn’t aged? Her delivery hadn’t been complimentary. In fact, it had been downright sneering, but I’d still take it. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
She rolled her eyes as though she could never imagine a word of importance ever emerging from my lips and drifted back into the house.
Fine. That was invitation enough for a human.
I followed her inside and sat next to her on the sofa.
We’d both instinctively avoided the armchair.
Roy had always sat there next to the bookcase.
It looked empty and forlorn without him.
The Ackroyd house had been a second home to me once.
I’d been here most nights after school, revising my Latin verb conjugations.
Latin had been a nightmare. I’d only been here to catch a glimpse of Charlotte, hoping she’d invite me to watch some trashy show with her or play Mario Kart.
It had been the best kind of escape from the grim dorms at boarding school.
Charlotte was eyeing me with half suspicion, half disdain. I’d often imagined what I’d say if I ever saw her again. It had never sounded right.
She glanced impatiently at the watch on her wrist. “Do you want a cup of tea or do you only drink directly from the vein?”
I leaned back in the chair. “What do you think about my proposal?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Honestly, I was trying to be polite and ignore it in case you were having some kind of seizure.”
“I meant it. I want you to be my wife. We made a pact.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again. Charlotte had rendered me speechless twice today with a glance, so it was only fair I returned the favor.
Confusion shadowed her features. “It’s been a really long day. I’m not sure what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m starting to wonder if you’re out of your mind—”
“It’s not a game. I want to alter people’s perceptions of me.”
“Because everyone thinks you’re an arsehole?”
My jaw ticked. “Right.”
“I fail to see what I have to do with it.”
I’d missed her accent. That soft Yorkshire brogue was so soothing. Charlotte pronounced her words with a t that was so subtle it was barely there. The shareholders were going to love it. No one could fail to be charmed by this woman.
“You’re the ideal candidate. I came home for a funeral and reconnected with an old flame. We remembered the pact we’d made. I realized I couldn’t live without you, and I whisked you back to London. It’s a romantic story, don’t you think?”
She blinked. “We haven’t seen each other for twelve years. You don’t love me.”
“Love is beside the point. I’m talking about a business arrangement.”
“So you want me to be what? A pretend wife to convince people you’re not an arsehole?”
“That’s the gist.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like the kind of thing an arsehole would suggest. Wouldn’t it just be easier to edit your Wikipedia page?”
“This is bigger than Wikipedia. People also think I’m an arsehole IRL.”
She snorted, moved to the window, and twitched the net curtain to one side. “Is that guy waiting out there for you?”
I joined her at the window. “Yes.”
“Does he want to come in? Shall I take him a cup of tea?”
“It’s his job. He’ll be fine.”
“It’s his job to wait in the car for you while you propose to a woman you haven’t seen in twelve years on the day she buries her father?”
“It’s his job to do whatever I tell him to do.”
She looked up at me from beneath her thick lashes. Moonlight fell through the fraying net curtain, painting her face in intricate patterns. There wasn’t a woman I’d come across who could compare. All these years, and I’d never been able to get her out of my head.
I followed her gaze out of the window to the rusting, battered Mini. “Is that your car?”
“Honestly, Cole, I think it’s time you left—”
“It looks like a wreck. Is it still running?”
“I need to take it to the garage. It wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities.”
My phone buzzed loudly in my pocket. I swiped Lucas’s irritating face away. “This is a good deal for both of us. Marry me, and I’ll give you whatever you want in return.”