Chapter 6 #2
“You know I said I wouldn’t get married unless I was in love.”
“So, fall in love,” he says like it’s easy. “Or maybe it’s time to take some chances. Do you want to lose everything, Easton? For a version of love that doesn’t exist?”
I clench my jaw. “Just because you haven’t experienced it doesn’t mean shit. You perpetually choose the wrong women, like it’s your hobby.”
“And you’ve chosen no one in over a decade,” he quips. He leans forward, lowering his voice. “All you have to do is get married and make it believable. That’s it.”
Weston is like a devil on my shoulder, whispering terrible things in my ear. The promise I made to myself—to marry for love only—sits on the other shoulder while my future hangs by a single thread that’s quickly unraveling.
My grandfather created this contractual obligation for his bloodline only.
He once told me he never wanted us imprisoned in the business.
This requirement was his way of pushing us to find love, to take risks, to start a family.
It will also be the number one reason why the Calloway dynasty will be destroyed from the inside and thousands of people will lose their jobs. The thought of it makes me sick.
Weston has my undivided attention and knows it.
“Okay, so what if I meet the love of my life while I’m fake married?”
“Oh, it should be a real marriage on paper and in public. Scandals are wonderful for business too.”
I groan. “This is fucking ridiculous.”
“You only have to stay married for one year. Pretend to be the happiest, in-love couple in the world, and no one will question anything. And if you find the one , wait to pursue her until you’ve divorced your temporary wife.
After three hundred sixty-five days, you’ll be free to do the same thing you’re doing right now, and you can continue your toxic affair with the company. ”
“Is that what you and Lena did?”
“No. It was very real and by far the biggest mistake of my life, but I met the qualifications. I genuinely tried. It didn’t work out. There is nothing anyone can do. I did what our grandfather had asked.”
He shrugs, but I’ve witnessed how difficult it was for him. Weston loved a horrible person, the real kind of love that I’ve searched for my entire life. When it ended, he was broken. She’d nearly destroyed my brother.
“But—”
Before I can finish my thought, there’s a tap on my door, and our shared secretary enters.
“The information you requested,” Taelor says and hands me the file.
As she turns and walks away, Weston snatches it from my hand.
“Alexis Marie Matthews. Texan. Twenty-nine years old. New York University performing arts graduate. Excellent GPA. No criminal record. Not a felon.”
I yank it from his hands. “ Bastard. ”
“So, this is her. Alexis Matthews. She’s perfect. No one knows her. And she’s a performer, so she can easily pretend to be in love with you. Plus, the housekeeper thing could work in your favor. Make us seem down-to-Earth.”
“There is no us when it comes to this.” I glare at him, my eyes scanning over the rest of the information.
I’m aware that our reputations are intertwined. If Weston pisses off the masses, then they’re upset with me too. We rise and fall together. It’s a part of the game.
He smirks. “She must’ve made an impression on you if you ran a full background check. Admit it.”
“ No. She has a bad attitude.”
“You do too.” He sits back in the chair. “She’s way too pretty for you though. Maybe I should date her? Would make a great rebound.”
He knows he’s getting under my skin and he’s doing everything he can to dig deeper.
“Don’t worry. Brody shared how you two hit it off at the park.”
My face contorts. “I’m firing my bodyguard.”
“Wow.” Weston chuckles. “You already have a thing for her.”
“I’ve known her for a week. We’ve spoken twice, and each time ended with her walking away from me like she couldn’t escape fast enough. That doesn’t qualify as a thing .”
He knocks his knuckles against the desk. “Shit. This might be the greatest story of all time. Easton Calloway finds a wife and actually falls in love. Maybe you’ll get the best of both worlds, little brother.”
I shake my head. “Get the fuck out of my office. You’re pissing me off.”
“Not even a please?”
“Now!” I point toward the door, and he stands.
He smooths his hands over the front of his charcoal-colored three-piece suit that’s identical to what I’m wearing, down to the black silk tie. If I turned it around, it would most likely be the same brand.
“You encourage the twin jokes.”
“ Love them .” He smirks, but doesn’t say anything else.
I suspect he has a closet of suits in his office and changes once he sees me, but I haven’t confirmed that. He swears it’s a lucky twin guess, but I don’t trust him. It happens too often to be coincidental. I believe he’s texting my stylist and tailor.
“The only reason I’m leaving is because I have shit to do, not because it’s what you want. Are we still on for tonight?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I confirm.
He reaches for the door, but stops and turns to me. “I hope you have the day you deserve.”
“Brody’s fired.”