Accidental Husband (Billionaire Inheritance Arrangement #9)

Chapter 1

JESSE

Weddings have one pro against a hundred cons.

Girls.

Girls here, girls there, girls everywhere. And normally, I would be between someone’s thighs by this point of the evening. Not tonight.

How boring.

I was only at this stupid, drawn-out show of wealth because if I hadn’t come, my twin brother, Will, would’ve had to.

Our cousin Sterling had insisted that someone from the Chicago side of the Westwood family had to attend and be, in his words, “respectable.” So instead of forcing my twin to leave his wife and baby behind, I was standing in the back garden of Sterling’s fancy-ass castle in Scotland, assuming the role of respectable Chicago Westwood, instead of motorboating the maid of honor.

I still couldn’t believe my cousin had a castle in Scotland. Why didn’t I have a castle?

I made a mental note to add it to my wish list as I leaned against a cocktail table bursting with white roses and flickering candles. I blew them out over my shoulder when nobody was looking, curious how long it would take one of the staff dressed in black to notice.

Seventy-six seconds.

Damn. These people didn’t mess around. But for all their efforts, this horse and pony show was all show and no horse… or pony. Luckily, the champagne was bottomless. Mediocre if anyone asked my opinion, which they hadn’t, but bottomless, and therefore my lifeline.

My tux was already half undone, my hair ruffled, and I’d been drinking the champagne like it was water, bored out of my mind while trying to figure out who this wedding was even for.

No one I’d spoken to so far had seemed particularly sure either. It felt like a design flaw, being invited when I didn’t know the couple simply because I was apparently related to one of them. Or both of them. Generational wealth like this had a kink for keeping the riches in the family, literally.

I plucked another glass of champagne off a passing tray, ignoring the faintly disapproving look the waiter gave me as I swapped my empty for a full.

Would it be in poor taste to get drunk at eleven in the morning?

I considered that for a beat, but in my defense, people on this side of the pond had weddings at the crack of dawn.

I’d been awake for hours, already suffering through a string quartet and mountains of small talk.

Right now, day-drinking felt less like poor taste and more like cultural assimilation.

I took a sip, letting the bubbles hit the back of my throat, and glanced around the pristine garden for what had to be the hundredth time.

For the last two hours, I’d been out here waiting for something of substance to happen, but so far, it had been nothing but polite laughter and thick accents from places like here, England, and France.

Apparently, there were Westwoods in Spain too, which was news to me. Exactly how many of us are there and why are we all here?

I loosened my bow tie another fraction and shifted as a breeze rolled across the lawn, carrying with it the scent of cut grass and money.

“Are you having fun?” someone asked from close behind me.

I turned at the sound of the voice, already halfway to answering before I registered that it was Laney, Sterling’s wife and co-host of this shindig.

She appeared at my side, her presence immediately followed by the chaotic energy of three small children who orbited her like sticky satellites.

Claire, the oldest at all of five years, clung to her hand, wide eyed and observant like her father, like she was taking everything in and silently judging it.

The middle one was four, if I remembered correctly, and she was hovering just behind her mother, looking like she was plotting something. The youngest, Harvey, was three and running in unpredictable circles around us like he was living his best life.

He might be onto something there, I thought as I glanced at him before looking back up at his mom, the champagne making me a touch too honest. “No, not really.”

She smiled. “That’s what I thought, but thanks for being here even though you probably had much more exciting events on your social calendar. Sterling appreciates the effort and so do I.”

“Yeah. Anytime.” I tipped my glass in her direction, pausing for a beat before I finally just asked. “Why do you do this, though?”

She arched an eyebrow at me. “Do what?”

“This,” I repeated, gesturing vaguely at the castle and the sea of well-dressed strangers speaking in languages I only half understood. “Host a bunch of people for a wedding you’re not in, all for a couple you don’t even know.”

Laney’s smirk deepened. “Sterling has taken it upon himself to connect the American Westwoods with their European roots and relatives. I think it makes him feel better about having a five-hundred-year-old castle in his real estate portfolio.”

I laughed. “You can’t just have a historic castle. You have to justify it. Got it.”

“Exactly.”

We both watched as Harvey attempted to chase something invisible across the lawn, Claire following at a much more reasonable pace while her sister darted ahead like she’d already decided rules were optional in this game.

Laney glanced at me again with a small smile playing across her lips. “You know, they’ve been asking to play cricket all day.”

I frowned. “Cricket?”

“Yes, Jesse. Cricket. A game involving a bat, a ball, and trying to connect said bat with said ball. I think there’s more to it than that, but I don’t really understand it all that well.”

I looked down at my tux. “I don’t understand it either, but I don’t think I’m dressed for it.”

“They don’t care,” she said. “They just want you to run around and eventually lose.”

“That actually sounds like my speed,” I decided out loud, then drained the rest of my champagne and handed the glass to Laney. “Alright, let’s do it. I’m all for embarrassing myself internationally. It counts as respectable if it’s for the kids.”

She laughed. I let her girls drag me out to the far end of the lawn after she’d called them over. Someone had set up what I assumed was a cricket… pitch? Field? Area?

Whatever.

Claire pointed at a few wooden poles stuck into the ground, handing me a bat as she started explaining what to do, but halfway through, someone called my name. “Jesse!”

I frowned, glancing up as the sound cut through the hum of conversation and distant laughter. I turned slowly, scanning the veranda overlooking the garden since I assumed the voice had come from there, but I didn’t recognize anyone.

Just as I was turning back to Claire, it happened again. “Jesse!”

I straightened slightly, stepping away from the girls as I tried to place the voice, but it didn’t sound familiar. Accented and female, I would’ve assumed it was Will’s wife, Eliza, if she’d been here, but she wasn’t.

“Jesse!”

“What?!” I finally called back, squinting up toward the house as annoyance raced through me.

At first, there was nothing. No response. Then she stepped into view. A strikingly beautiful, dark-haired siren walked out onto the veranda, the sunlight illuminating her in a way that made my brain take a second to catch up to my eyes.

I didn’t recognize her and I would’ve if I’d met her before. As she looked down at me, however, her features slowly changed from expectation, to confusion, to irritation.

Which is uncalled for, given that she’s the one yelling my name across a castle garden like we’re in some kind of dramatic period piece.

Since she seemed so uncertain about who she’d been calling to, I lifted a hand slightly, letting her know that I was Jesse, but she only stared at me for a second longer before giving a small, dismissive wave, like I’d somehow disappointed her already.

Then she turned and disappeared around the side of the house.

I shook my head, not knowing what the hell that had been about, but I was suddenly a lot less bored.

“Hey!”

I glanced down to see Claire plant her hands on her little hips in a gesture that was deeply familiar and faintly terrifying at the same time. God, she looks exactly like my sister, Charlotte, at this age.

Seriously. She could’ve been my sister’s twin, especially when she narrowed her eyes, her tone suddenly accusing. “You’re not even playing.”

Her sister seemed equally unimpressed, nodding her agreement. I still didn’t understand the wickets and whatever else was involved in this sport, but I did know how to fake it till I made it. “That’s because you don’t want me to play, young ladies.”

Claire squinted at me. “Why not?”

“Because I am going to absolutely destroy you.”

The younger one gasped, apparently delighted by this news, but Claire rolled her eyes. “You don’t know how to play.”

“That’s irrelevant. I have natural talent. Call it raw athleticism if you will. It’s a burden, really.”

“That’s not how cricket works,” she informed me with the kind of authority only a five-year-old could muster. “Come on, Jesse.”

She dragged my name out like she was already exhausted by me, but I was only half listening, my attention already back to the place where the dark-haired stranger had looked at me like I’d somehow profoundly offended her.

Man, I love a challenge, and that’s definitely going to be a good one.

Abruptly handing the bat back to Claire, I leaned down to look into her eyes. “Alright, change of plans. I’m going to let you win by forfeiting. I’m out, guys. See you later. Stay in school.”

I spun around without waiting for their protests or outrage, heading back to the castle in search of the gorgeous woman who’d waved me off. I refused to accept being dismissed by a girl who looked like her.

The temperature dropped noticeably inside, the cool stone walls swallowing the noise from outside and turning it into a muffled hum, but there was absolutely no sign of her.

I turned left, then right, but chasing a stranger through a castle with half a century’s worth of expansion was less effective than I’d hoped.

Irritation crept in when I realized I’d lost her. It got worse when the distant sound of music swelled, signaling the wedding was actually finally about to begin. Sure. Wait all morning, finally find something to do, then you want to get this damn show on the road.

By the time I made it back outside to the tent that had been set up for the ceremony, the chairs were already filling up.

I slid into an empty seat near the middle just before the officiant started.

I managed at most thirty seconds of polite attention.

I did an excellent job of pretending I was invested in whatever love story was unfolding in front of me before my gaze started drifting.

Scanning row by row and face by unfamiliar face, I finally saw her sitting closer to the back.

She was partially obscured by a wide-brimmed hat, but I knew it was her.

Dark hair spilled over her shoulders in thick waves, and she just had that presence, like she existed slightly apart from everything else.

As my focus sharpened, zeroing in on her, it suddenly seemed like she’d felt it. Her head turned slowly until bright, golden-brown eyes met mine, a flicker of recognition in them before she wrinkled her nose and looked away, dismissing me once again.

I didn’t take it personally though. A slow smile pulled at the corners of my mouth instead. Okay. I see how this is going. Challenge accepted, gorgeous.

I didn’t pay a lick of attention to the rest of the ceremony, but immediately after, I caught a glimpse of her, a flash of dark hair disappearing through a set of doors. Then she was gone.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair as something familiar started creeping back in. Old instincts. Old habits. Those I’d perfected over years of not caring too much. I simply enjoyed the chase for what it was without ever letting it mean anything.

Weddings had always been a hunting ground for me, easy and predictable. There was something about them—about the music, the drinks, and the idea of love hanging in the air—that made people receptive. I had never, not once, been unsuccessful with the ladies at a wedding.

I wouldn’t strike out with this woman either, even if she was going to make it more difficult. Grabbing another flute of champagne from a tray, I took a sip. My eyes once again scanned the crowd, searching for her.

God, I’ll be damned if I let that goddess slip through my fingers today.

I might not even know her name yet, but I was willing to work through that. I had a game plan and it would work as soon as the drinks really started flowing.

“Why do you look like you’re about to commit a crime?”

I sighed, turning to find Sterling leaning against the wall, watching me with a smirk that made his eyes bright.

“People always think the worst of me,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve been on my best behavior.”

He raised an eyebrow, still smirking. “You’re creeping around corners, Jesse. Who are you hunting?”

I opened my mouth to deflect, but then, by some miracle, she appeared.

Crossing the hallway at the far end of the room with another woman beside her, a sister, judging by their similar features.

I didn’t even try to hide it, nudging Sterling’s arm as I tipped my chin in their direction. “Who is that? The one on the left.”

Sterling followed my line of sight, his face immediately falling. I didn’t love it at all that the amusement suddenly vanished as he shook his head. “Jesse—”

“Don’t Jesse me,” I cut in. “Just tell me who she is. I’ll just say it since you can’t, being married and all, but she’s hot, man. Have you seen those curves? I know it’s saying something given my track record, but I’d give my right—”

“Jesse,” he said on a deep sigh and with a definite wince. “That’s Jacqueline Calhoun, your cousin.”

“Bull shit,” I said.

“Sorry to break it to you.”

“No.” Everything I’d just said replayed through my mind with horrifying clarity. My manhood damn near shriveled straight up inside me. “Just no.”

Sterling scrunched his nose up and nodded. “Yes. Well, her mother was adopted into the Westwood family. She’s not related to us by blood. So you’re not a total pig.”

“That’s a relief,” I said. “I’m not trying to bark up the family tree.”

“But more importantly, in terms of what you’re interested in, she’s engaged.” He patted my chest with one hand and a measure of pity. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, little brother.”

“Fuck,” I said. Loud enough that a few heads turned, and naturally, as if things hadn’t been bad enough yet, one of those heads just so happened to be hers.