6. Brantley
B rantley~
I stared at my father, not quite believing what I was hearing. The man had always had nerve, but this was something completely different.
“Pardon me?” I asked quietly, letting him know that I didn’t appreciate being ambushed.
“You heard me,” he replied sardonically.
Uninvited, my father had shown up an hour ago, insisting that we needed to talk.
I had two homes, three if you counted the small room attached to my office.
It might be smaller than a motel room, but it served its purpose.
If I needed to crash at work, the room had a bed, shower, sink, and a closet full of suits.
As for my other two homes, I had a huge house just outside the city and a condo five blocks from KI’s home offices.
Since I was very rarely at home, Dad must have tried the office and condo before showing up here unannounced, proving just how badly he’d needed to speak with me.
Now I knew why.
“I’m not getting married,” I told him. “There’s no fucking way in hell that I’m getting married. Especially, to a fucking stranger.”
“She’s hardly a stranger-”
“I’ve never spoken a word to her in all my life,” I informed him. “I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of a stranger.”
“It’s not like you don’t know who she is, Brant,” he snapped, and he wasn’t wrong.
Everyone who was anyone knew who Keris Bishop was; she was the girl with the diamond mines.
The story of the mines was legendary, and many men had tried their hand at gaining control over that island.
For decades, husbands had done their best to take over that damn piece of land, but it was rumored that the trust was as ironclad as you could get.
Josephine Jennings had done her homework, and she had sacrificed a lot to ensure that no man would ever rule over a woman of her bloodline.
As for Keris Bishop, not only did she stand to inherit an island that was worth possible billions, but she was also a museum curator.
Like most rich people, her moves were constantly being announced to the public, though most of the stories circulated around her art and charity work.
I didn’t know much about her family, but I did know that she had a sick sister and flamboyant parents.
Edmund and Ellen Bishop were big on being photographed at all the right places.
Keris was also as beautiful as fuck. She was thirty-five, around five-foot-two, and had no ex-husbands or children in her life.
The woman also had a glorious mane of dark brown hair that hung low on her back, something very rarely seen because most of her pictures showed her wearing her hair up.
Her eyes were a mossy green, and the dark lashes that surrounded them made them pop.
She had a doll’s delicate face, and if that weren’t enough, the woman had fucking dimples.
Her body was also another work of art. In a world where women thought it was fashionable to be slim, Keris Bishop had a body made for a centerfold.
The woman was curvy in all the right places, and whenever she entered a room, all the men looked.
I ought to know, because I’d been to hundreds of charity galas where she’d been in attendance.
Incredibly elegant and extraordinarily beautiful, that body of hers still made her look like sex on a stick.
It was also rumored that she was no fool. Though she’d been linked to a few men over the years, it hadn’t taken her long to see right through them, leaving them dumped on the side of the road like litter. Men weren’t the only ones that were sought after for their money.
“And she agreed to this?” I asked suspiciously.
“Her parents are informing her of the arrangement tonight,” he answered. “Her father assured me that she’d agree.”
“And how is he able to guarantee that?”
“Her sister is sick with severe epilepsy.” He picked some imaginary lint off his slacks, as if Lindsey Bishop’s health was of no concern to him. “Without our financial backing, her sister will no longer be able to afford her health care.”
Everyone had a price, and most of the time, it wasn’t money. It was amazing what people would do for the health of a loved one. People thought that it was drugs, alcohol, or gambling that led you to do desperate things, but nothing was more compelling than love.
“As unfortunate as that may be, I’m not marrying some woman just to pad pockets that don’t need padding, Dad,” I informed him. “I have plenty of money. We all do.”
Dad leaned back in his chair. “What? She not beautiful enough for you?”
What a fucking dick.
“You know damn well that she’s plenty beautiful,” I snapped. “Her looks aren’t the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“The fact that, unlike you and most of the people that I know, I take marriage very seriously,” I spat. “When I get married, I intend on honoring those vows. So, no, I’m not going to marry a stranger for fucking money. Money that I don’t need, might I add.”
He gave me a tight nod, but I knew my father, so I readied myself for the curveball. “Fine,” he said easily. “I’ll let her father know that you’ve decided against the arrangement.”
“You do that,” I bit out.
“However, before I do, you might want to know that there’s another man that Edmund has in mind if our deal doesn’t pan out,” he continued, and I already knew the man’s name without my father having to mention it.
“Imagine all that Ares Cormac could do with all that additional wealth that he doesn’t need. ”
I had no doubt that Ares Cormac would marry Keris Bishop to secure access to that fucking island.
Where we were equals in the business and financial world, his marriage to Keris would make him the reigning king, and those mines would open up all kinds of doors for him.
It also wasn’t a secret that Dylan Finnick and Huntley Winslet were Keris Bishop’s best friends, and they each had a pass to the world of diamonds and antiquities.
“You’re a bastard,” I bit out.
“A rich one,” he agreed. “One that knows what’s important when it comes to maintaining family legacies. You should also know, if you’re brother wasn’t such a fuck-up, I would have chosen him for this union. However, Beau can’t be trusted, no matter how much I love him.”
“And when are the nuptials supposed to take place if I agree?”
“This Saturday morning at the house.” He meant his house.
Though I had never planned on marrying for love, I had planned on marrying a woman of my own choosing, ensuring a relationship of mutual respect and understanding.
I hadn’t lied when I’d said that I’d had every intention of honoring my vows when the time came, but that was before I was being manipulated into marrying someone that I didn’t even know.
Oh, and I was being manipulated. Though the choice was ultimately mine, my father knew that I’d never let Ares Cormac get the upper hand on me.
If anyone asked me how our rivalry had started, I wouldn’t be able to answer them.
All I knew was that it existed, and that it burned bright.
The same blue eyes that I saw every day in the mirror stared back at me.
“I know you, Brantley,” my father said. “It would kill you to see Ares Cormac at the top of the food chain. He’d also be standing there with a woman like Keris Bishop at his side.
Do not even try to tell me that it wouldn’t gall you to know that, not only did he have her money, but that he would also have her in his bed every night.
That privilege alone might be worth marrying her for. ”
“Careful, Dad,” I warned. “You’re starting to sound like a dirty pervert. Keris Bishop is the same age as your children. Plus, I’d hate to have to stomp you out for leering at my wife.”
Darius Kingston’s lips curved with victory. “Of course,” he said. “No offense intended, son.”
Ignoring him, I said, “I want a copy of the trust.”
“Of course,” he readily agreed.
“I’m also going to head to the island as soon as the minister pronounces us husband and wife. I want to see what we’re dealing with,” I informed him.
“No wedding night?” he asked, and I knew that he was doing it just to goad me.
“What I do with my wife and when is none of your business,” I bit out.
“It is if we lose our ownership to the mines because you’re not fucking your wife,” he shot back. “Don’t forget, you need daughters to keep control of those mines.”
“Mind your own fucking business,” I warned, standing up. “You might have arranged this little business deal, but once Saturday comes and goes, you’d better stay out of my marriage.”
My father stood up as well. “You better show up to the house on Saturday, Brantley.”
“Oh, I’ll be there,” I assured him. “But you better watch yourself when it comes to Keris Bishop, Dad. Whether I love her or not, she’ll be my wife. Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself.”
“Keris Kingston,” he corrected. “You better get used to calling her Keris Kingston, son.”
“Get out,” I growled.
Nothing more was said as he walked out of my office, knowing his way out of my house, and there was no sense in walking him out when all I wanted to do was kill him.
After a few minutes, I grabbed a bottle of brandy, then called Onyx and Magnus.