Chapter 19
Brody
“I’ve given some thought to what you said and—” She swallows. “I want to know how it would work.”
“You want to know how our marriage would work?” I lean back in my chair.
All day, she’s been a model of efficiency. She’s taken on most of my day-to-day work. And led on two important sales calls with offices in the US and Asia. A couple of times, I glanced up to see her frowning at me. She averted her gaze and went back to her work.
At precisely six p.m., she walked in and perched herself in the seat opposite me at the desk.
Finally, fuck.
I didn’t get much sleep last night. I haven’t been able to get thoughts of my executive assistant out of my head.
My executive assistant who is now single.
When she texted me and said she wanted to see me, I had to stop myself from pumping my fist in victory. She's coming around to my suggestion. I can feel it.
I wanted to ask her to meet me first thing in the morning, but that would've shown how eager I was.
Instead, I asked her to meet me at six p.m.
And I paid the price for it. On the surface, I was industrious…or tried to be. Given I’d delegated a lot of my everyday stuff to her, I was left with a lot of time to build up scenarios in my head. Scenarios in which she’d become my wife, and I’d spend all my nights buried in her pussy.
Enough for me to have to retreat to the en suite bathroom and rub one out. I managed to compose myself after.
But now that she’s here, I need to play it casual. I can't act like I can’t wait to put my ring on her finger and marry her… And… Christ. I'm only doing it to fulfill Arthur’s condition that I get married before I inherit. And, to make him happy by marrying the woman he chose for me.
She grips her digital pad so hard that the skin across her knuckles turns white. “Yes. I want to know how this…arrangement would pan out.”
I knit my eyebrows. It’s interesting that she doesn’t want to use the word marriage. She’s not yet comfortable with the idea. But that’s where I come in.
I've exchanged fire with enemy troops across borders, and with business rivals across boardroom tables, but I am keenly aware that what I have riding on the discussion today with her is far more personal.
There’s much more at stake here. My future, for one.
It so happens that my EA is the smartest, most fascinating, most beautiful woman I've ever met.
Being married to her wouldn’t be a burden; it would be dangerously easy. We click in ways I don’t want to examine too closely.
Arthur choosing her only confirms what part of me already knows. We fit. And apparently, my grandfather had an inkling of that.
He’ll be satisfied, and even if there are no feelings involved—no real entanglements—I’m certain Lark and I could build something solid. Something that lasts.
I could do worse than marry her, but I don't think I can do better. As long as she doesn't get too hung up on the whole issue of love, I think we'll make a great partnership.
I reach for the strip of rope on my desk and begin to unknot it. It’s more to buy myself time while I formulate my response, but her gaze is fixed on my fingers. She watches, fascinated, as I deftly unknot the strip of silken rope, then smoothen it out, before I tie the first knot.
I show it to her. “It’s a figure eight knot. Common in climbing and sailing.”
“It looks clean and simple.”
“And the symmetry is satisfying. It symbolizes control.”
I tie another knot, then another.
Her forehead creases. “Why do you do that?” she asks abruptly. “I assume, it helps you focus?”
She’s stalling. But that’s okay. I’m the one who opened this particular line of conversation. And it’s good for her to get to know me better, since we’re going to get married. Something I will make her agree to by the end of this discussion.
I tie another knot. “It’s a stress reliever. Helps me keep in touch with my past.”
“Past?” She raises her gaze to mine.
“I was in the Royal Marines. In fact, all my brothers except, except Connor, served in the forces.”
“How did I miss that?” She looks taken aback.
I shrug. "It’s not a secret. Arthur makes it a point to bring it up whenever he gets the chance. It’s something he’s proud of. As am I. But it wasn’t the easiest part of my life either.”
Her shoulders relax a little. The conversation is doing its job. It’s bringing down her barriers. Putting her at ease. Helping her become more receptive to what’s coming next.
“That explains the watch.” She nods toward my wrist.
I glance at the sturdy watch with the titanium casing and weathered faceplate. “It belonged to Gramps. He gave it to me when I was headed to the Marines. It saved my life.”
She stares closely at it. “How?”
“You really want to know?”
“Of course.” She sends me a reproachful look.
“I was on a night op with my team when we got hit by an IED. Something sharp sliced across my ribs. It would’ve gone straight through my heart if I hadn’t been carrying this same watch in my chest pocket.”
I touch the space over my heart to demonstrate.
“I took off the watch because my wrist was hurt. I owe my life to the watch. I got it repaired and wear it all the time.”
“Wow.” Her face pales. “That’s scary.” Her voice is dazed. Distress filters into her eyes. “You almost died.”
“Except, I didn’t.” I half smile. “Others on my team weren’t so lucky.”
I remember the feelings of relief and euphoria, followed by sinking disappointment when I found out I’d lost friends.
"I’m so sorry.” Her voice is soft. Soothing. It calms some of the guilt I’ve carried inside. Typical survivor’s remorse. I’m aware of it. Doesn’t stop me from treading there.
“Do you regret joining the Marines?" she asks softly.
I hesitate. It’s not something I’ve mentioned to anyone else before. But it feels right to share it with her. "Yes. And no."
“How so?”
I complete the final knot on the rope. "It’s not that I wasn’t physically up to the job."
"Clearly." She nods in my direction.
I dip my head in acknowledgement.
“I joined because I wanted to make a difference. But I wasn’t great at taking orders. I hated acting without seeing the bigger picture. And the loss of life… It got to me. I had to keep reminding myself I was protecting my country.”
“Is that where you picked up your love for tying knots?” She nods at the length of rope now tied up in knots.
I run my knuckles down the silken surface, and she shivers.
I survey her from below my eyelashes. Rub my thumb over the knotted surface. This time, she visibly shudders. Then folds her arms across her chest, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing that her nipples are peaked and outlined against the silk of her blouse.
She’s so responsive. My cock twitches. Would she let me tie her up before I fuck her?
Images of her sweet body bound in rope fill my head. I’d wind it around her curves to frame her breasts. Then slip it between her legs to lift the soft flesh there.
Blood drains to my groin.
It’s all I can do to not lean over, pull her to her feet, press her into the desk, and take her from behind. Goddamn. I need to slow down. This is not how I’m going to convince her to marry me, then allow me to fuck her.
I clear my throat, release my hold on the rope and lean back. "Tying knots is a core skill across the Royal Marines. I had a particular aptitude for it. It’s why I became an assault specialist."
Seeing the confusion on her face, I clarify.
"That’s someone trained in construction and explosives. I’m the one who set off controlled explosives to breach obstacles, and who builds defensive positions like trenches, or rope bridges."
"You help the teams survive in the field."
"Exactly." I nod, pleased she caught on so quickly.
"So why did you leave?"
"The usual. The first two missions I was on went without a hitch. On the third"—I push aside the emotions which squeeze my chest—"we were ambushed. We were very lucky to be able to retreat with minimum casualties. All of us got out."
"But you didn’t go back."
"Almost having lost my life put things in perspective. I wasn’t afraid of dying. But there was more I wanted to accomplish before I did. I knew I could make a bigger difference from the outside."
She leans forward. "How did you do that?”
"I took the discipline and the training from the Marines and poured it into work.”
Realization dawns in her eyes. “You certainly have a veteran’s thoroughness in how you approach your job.”
I tilt my head in acknowledgement. “I prioritize giving jobs to those who’d have otherwise been discarded when they came home."
Realization dawns in her eyes. "Your employees—"
I nod. "I draw from troops and those with military experience, as well as veterans who’re floundering.
I pay for their retraining so their skills can be transferred to the corporate world.
I also work closely with my uncle, who’s a former Marine, to expand into corporate security and risk management.
We provide extraction and evacuation in unstable parts of the world.
And employ those with relevant experiences from the armed forces. "
"The companies that you want to fund—"
"—are startups who’re researching technology that could provide better intel for our troops."
"Wow." Her eyes grow wide. She thinks over what I said. I know the exact moment she pieces everything together, for she leans forward. “Wait, does this mean that the money you get from your inheritance—"
“I plan on using the bulk of it to set up Davenport Foundation.”
“That sounds like a non-profit organization.”
“It is.” I nod. “The focus will be to retrain vets when they leave the military so they can find jobs in civilian life. I also want to provide them with mental health services to help them adjust to daily life.”
“Wait, that’s why you want to inherit? So, you can help military vets?” Her features wear an expression of surprise.
“I have more than enough for my needs. If I can make a difference to others, it'll satisfy me more.”
She scans my features and must realize how sincere I am about this, for she nods.
“Just when I think you’re coldhearted, you say something like this and make me reevaluate my opinion of you.”
“Oh?”
She taps her fingers on the arm of her chair. "Your actions are selfless in a way that surprises me."
"Oh, it isn’t all selfless. I’ll make sure the money also earns me profits."
"But you'll also create employment opportunities and try to make missions safer for future Marines. And you want to use your inheritance to train veterans so they can find jobs and fit back into civilian life."
"Glad your opinion of me is improving." I allow myself a smirk.
She reddens. “Not completely. I find you arrogant, high-handed, and bossy.”
“Bossy?” I lean in, lowering my voice. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
Her chin tips up. “I’ll keep adding to the list.”
“Go on.” I let the smirk deepen. “I’d like to hear it. Especially if it means you’re thinking about me when you should be working.”
Her lips part. Then snap shut. Color flushes her cheeks.
Yes! I have her. She understands my motivations in accessing my inheritance and she’s appreciative of it. That’s a huge step forward.
“Of course, to gain my inheritance, I need to marry.” I narrow my gaze on her. “I was serious when I said you should become my wife.”
Her breath stutters. But she doesn’t protest. Which tells me, I’ve come a long way since she almost turned me down outright when I last suggested this.
“And you need a husband, so you can go through with your wedding and avoid embarrassing yourself in front of your family and your friends."
She purses her lips.
“Surely, you’ve arrived at the same conclusion. Isn’t that why you texted and asked to meet me?”
She looks away. Her chest rises and falls. She seems to be gathering her thoughts, and when she finally turns back to me, her face is composed. “You’re right. Having thought over your proposition, I must admit, there are certain advantages I see in going ahead with it.”
Finally, fuck. If she’d told me she wasn’t interested in this arrangement, then I’d have found another way to get her to marry me. You’d better believe it.
Victory tastes sharp and sweet, before I rein in my emotions. No complications, remember? Get married. Get access to my trust fund. Move on with my life.
I compose myself. “But?” I tilt my head.
She blinks.
“I sense a but coming on.” I rest my elbows on the arms of my chair, then touch my fingers together.
“But I have some questions.”
I force myself to relax my shoulders. Almost there. All you need to do is answer her satisfactorily, and then this gorgeous woman will be your wife. Of course, I’ll never let myself fall for her. That’s the one emotion I will not let myself indulge in. But in every other way, she will be mine.
“Go on.” I jerk my chin. “What do you want to ask?”