Chapter 4 #2
My eyes flicked over him as they so often did.
I couldn’t help myself. After seven years, it was second nature to assess him, to anticipate what he needed, to figure out how I could fix things.
There was tension in his shoulders that wasn’t usually there along with dark circles under his eyes and stress in the set of his jaw.
Another pang of guilt seized me around the middle.
I knew Weston Kincaid, and I could tell the weight he was carrying wasn’t just about Narissa.
His grandfather’s death had rocked him. Weston wasn’t exactly the type to talk about his feelings, but he’d walked out of key negotiations for a multimillion-dollar deal a few years ago without so much as a backward glance when I’d told him Pete was in the hospital.
Back then, it had been a minor injury after a hunting accident, but all Weston had cared about was that Pete was hurt.
Nothing had mattered more to him than that.
I knew what his grandad meant to him, and I knew how difficult it must have been to lose him.
The heart attack had been quick, which was a blessing in some ways—but it left Weston with no chance to say goodbye.
Honestly, the last thing he needed right now was a mess with Narissa dumped in his lap.
I cleared my throat. “Finished?”
He nodded, laying his fork down. “It wasn’t horrible.”
I rolled my eyes, reaching for his dishes. “Don’t even start complaining. You’d literally live off of black coffee and gummy bears if I let you.”
“I’m just saying, I think I pay you enough to afford seasoning.”
“Not anymore,” I muttered, taking the dishes to the sink. I could feel his eyes boring into my back, and I fought off the flush that inched across my chest. “Did PR contact you about the posts?” I asked, in desperate need of a distraction.
“They’re trying to figure out how to spin the story, which was why I had to push off heading to Braeburn this afternoon.”
“No, you pushed that off because you still aren’t married.”
He frowned.
“What did PR say?”
“The usual,” Weston said, shrugging. “We can spin this as her being a jealous, unhinged ex acting out because she is a jealous, unhinged ex acting out. But Pete’s funeral—”
“Takes priority,” I said.
He nodded. “I need to be there ASAP. The mess with Narissa will have to wait until I get back.”
A mess I helped create. That guilt settled deeper in my chest.
Weston sighed heavily. “I have no idea why Pete would pull this stunt with the marriage requirement, but I’m not going to let Lochbrae go.
It means too much to me, because frankly, it meant a hell of a lot to him, and I’m not going to let that legacy die out the way it would in Jasper’s hands.
And that means I have to get married.” He caught my eye.
“A task you’ve made much harder by priming all women with an internet connection against me. ”
“Technically, you sabotaged yourself first by assuming I wanted to marry you,” I said. “You followed that up by giving me one of the most insulting proposals in the history of humankind.”
He scoffed. “It wasn’t that bad.”
I barked a humorless laugh. “Your definition of insulting and mine are vastly different.”
“Fine,” he said. “Maybe I should have asked you differently. Better.”
“Asked being the operative word, instead of told. Better how?” Did he even understand what had upset me so much about the things he’d said?
“With better terms,” he amended, and I rolled my eyes. Nope, he totally didn’t get it. “I need to fulfill the terms of the will,” he continued. “So how can I make it worth your while to marry me?”
I huffed, already exhausted by the thought of him trying to negotiate with me again.
“I know you’ve been eyeing up the energy policy advisor role,” he said.
I crossed my arms, leaning my hip against the counter. Hold on a second…
“Don’t try to deny it. I see how invested you get when you sit in on the strategy meetings on subsidies and legislation.” He stood, walking over to me. “Hell, you’re already ghostwriting half the emails we send out to the representatives to get them on board.”
I tried not to let my interest show. Frankly, I was shocked he’d noticed that in the first place. Yeah, I did have my sights set on being more than Weston’s PA for the rest of my life, and that happened to be a role that really interested me.
“You’d be great at it,” he said, eyes bright. “But we both know you need to level up your education.”
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, nodding. I had looked into it already. “I’d need a master of science focused on environmental policy.”
“It depends on the program, but you’d probably need a minimum of thirty credit hours. And throwing in a couple of public affairs and energy law courses wouldn’t hurt either,” he added.
My jaw clenched, my eyes narrowing. “I’d need at least a year to do all that if I was studying full time.” That was a lot of time and a lot of money. If I took only a few credit hours a semester, I could maybe swing it while having a full-time job, but just how long would that take?
“And what if I gave you that year?” he said. “A full, calendar year of paid leave. I’ll cover the cost of your courses, with a stipend for living expenses, and I’ll guarantee that you’ll have a job waiting for you in that department when you finish.”
I tried not to gape. The man who could barely handle eight hours without me in the job was now talking about giving me a year of paid leave? Weston was dangling one hell of a carrot in front of me, and I couldn’t lie. I wanted to bite. Hard.
With that degree under my belt, I didn’t even need to stay at Kincaid Energy if I didn’t want to. I could move into lobbying or government relations. I could be sorting internal strategies for global energy companies. I’d actually be shaping policy, not just keeping Weston’s agenda!
“You’re not saying no,” Weston said, cocking his head as he stared at me. “Does that mean you’d consider the offer worth six months of being my wife while I take control of Lochbrae?”
“I’m not saying yes,” I said, turning to the sink. I shoved my hands in the soapy water, washing the dishes. “But hypothetically, what would the next six months look like?”
What would marrying him really mean?
Weston came to stand beside me, leaning against the counter. “You’d need to come to Scotland with me now. There’s a lot to sort through at the estate, and I need my assistant.”
“You do know I quit, right?”
“Not in this scenario,” he said, his voice low, gravelly.
“But I should only need you in Scotland for a week or so. Then we’ll both come back to the States where we resume our normal lives.
You can apply for grad school and keep working until you’re ready to start.
Or you can start your year of paid leave right away and have a vacation until grad school begins.
And after six months, wherever you are, we’ll file for that divorce. ”
Laid out like that, it almost sounded…reasonable?
I let the water drain from the sink, watching the bubbles disappear. I didn’t want Weston to know I was blown away by the offer. But all it did was speak to his desperation. He needed me.
To stop Jasper.
To fulfill Pete’s will.
To protect the estate and the land so he could build the wind farm his grandfather had envisioned creating in the Highlands.
And he didn’t have time to convince someone else, especially now that Narissa was on a posting spree.
But still—marrying him? I couldn’t seriously be considering saying yes, could I?
I turned to him abruptly. “It’s getting late. I’m tired. You’re tired.”
“Lena—”
I needed the night to figure this out. “You should go.”
He looked toward the door, then back to me, that unanswered question burning in his eyes. Before he could say anything else, our phones buzzed simultaneously.
I checked the notification, and so did he.
“Narissa again,” he growled.
I gritted my teeth as I read the latest post. Weston Kincaid can run a business, wear a ten thousand dollar suit and fly private. But he’s still the emotionally stunted manchild who blew me off when I asked him to go to therapy. Good luck to your new boo!
“Okay, so this one’s hitting a little further below the belt than exotic jungle STIs.”
“A little?” he said, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. “The first comment: Didn’t he say his company supported mental health charities? Hashtag not a good look.”
“Looks like she finally got around to tagging Kincaid Energy too.”
“Fucking hell,” Weston muttered.
At this rate, he was going to start getting hate mail from strangers, and there was the risk of aggravating the investors.
I glanced up, watching his eyebrows furrow deeper and deeper.
He looked up at me, gaze hardened. “Marry me, and I’ll fly Tess and the bridal party to Paris for the bachelorette party.
All expenses paid. You can meet them for the weekend.
It’s not the holiday you envisioned or the party you planned, but it’ll be more than she could have ever dreamed. ”
A gasp got lodged in my throat. Between the guilt I felt brewing over Narissa and my real desire for the job opportunity he was offering and now the promise of an amazing experience for Tess, I knew there was really only one option.
“Okay, fine,” I said, holding his gaze. A huge part of me still screamed this was crazy.
Marrying my boss? Uncertainty and regret and guilt swirled inside me.
Could I really hang him out to dry when I was part of the reason this was going so badly for him?
And could I really turn down all that he was offering?
One last time, I told myself. Just this one last time, I’d fall into line and fix things for Weston, the way I always did. And then I’d take him up on his offer and seize the means to chase my own dreams. “I’ll marry you.”