Tristan
I finish rolling up my sleeves and look across the room at Chloe.
She’s been watching me do it, and her eyes linger for a beat on my forearms and the ink there before her focus snaps back up to my face, that familiar composure locking back into place.
“You didn’t have to send everyone out,” she says neutrally. “I would’ve been perfectly happy to say no to marrying you in front of all of them.”
A mirthless smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “I know from experience that it’s not that simple for you.”
Her chin lifts. “And what makes you think that?”
“Because you’re in the same position I am.
You’re beholden to your family the same way I’m beholden to mine.
This isn’t just about the two of us, and we both know it.
A partnership between our companies benefits everyone who just walked out that door, and your father knew exactly what he was walking into when he sat down at this table today.
” I pause. “So the real question is, is your family really going to let you walk away from a deal like this?”
She swallows, and with a sinking feeling, I know I’m right.
I take a few steps toward her, closing the distance between us. Her brows draw together as she looks up at me, her hands still resting on the table.
“Are you seriously considering this?” she asks.
“Of course I am.”
She laughs, but it’s a brief, humorless sound. She knows I’m not joking, even if she’s trying to pretend that I am.
“Everything I’ve built hinges on this,” I say. “I’m not willing to throw it away.”
A flurry of emotions pass behind her eyes, more expression than I’ve ever seen showing through her mask. Her unflappable facade has a crack in it, giving me a glimpse of the shock that mirrors my own.
I drop my voice, stepping closer to her. “Chloe…”
She looks away, down at the table. “Since when are we on a first name basis?”
I tilt her chin up with my fingertips so that our gazes meet. If we’re going to have this discussion, I need her to look me in the eye.
“Give this a chance,” I say softly. “I don’t want it either, but you know we both need to go along with it.”
She shrugs me off, looking away. “Give me a break.”
“There’s a cost to this life we live. You know that as well as I do. If we want to maintain our—”
“Just hire lawyers, Tristan,” Chloe snaps, her eyes flashing as she glares back at me. Those gray eyes are cold like steel and every bit as unyielding. “Fight it out in court.”
I shake my head. “If we fight it in court, whether we win or lose, we lose.”
Her lips press together in a thin line, and she sighs almost imperceptibly. She knows this. Everything I’m saying now is just a stark reminder of our predicament. I don’t need to convince her. She’s already aware of the stakes.
“It’s just three years,” I tell her. “It’s not like we’re going to be bound together forever. I’m not stuck in your life until we die. It’s three years, and then we can both do whatever we want.”
“I have no interest in being part of some sham marriage,” she mutters, her voice laced with bitterness.
“Who says it would be a sham?”
She scoffs. “Right, of course.”
“No,” I say firmly. “It’ll be real.”
Her eyes narrow, suspicion and disbelief warring in her gaze. “Sure, sure. You’ll sign the papers, all of that fluff, but it’ll still be plastic. Just for show.”
I shake my head. “I mean it. I wouldn’t be part of a false marriage. If I take vows, I’ll keep them.”
“Oh, really?” She folds her arms. “You won’t fuck another woman for three years?”
“No,” I say instantly, without hesitating. “I won’t. If I’m married to you—for as long as I’m married to you—I’ll never touch another woman.”
At that, I can see shock in her eyes, along with something else I can’t identify. The ironic suspicion is gone, though. She seems to be taking me at my word.
For a while, neither of us speaks. The only sound in the room is the gentle tick of the clock above the door.
Then she nods. Stiffly, reluctantly, as if each degree of her head’s inclination requires an internal struggle. “Fine.”
“Fine?” I echo, searching her expression for confirmation.
“I’ll do it,” she says, her voice clipped. “I’ll… I’ll marry you.”
I nod, a small, relieved smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Good. Glad to hear it.”
“Should we call everyone back in here, then?” she asks.
She turns toward the door, but before she can move, I reach out on impulse, my hand resting at the back of her neck.
She goes still. I can feel her pulse under my fingertips where they rest at the side of her throat, and her shoulders drop just a fraction, a small involuntary thing she probably doesn’t realize she’s done.
“You need to promise me the same thing,” I murmur, my voice dropping in a way I didn’t mean for it to.
“Excuse me?” She looks back at me, something indecipherable passing through her expression, both defiant and vulnerable.
“If we’re going to do this, you need to promise that you won’t touch another man for the duration of our marriage. I’m not the kind of man who shares. Ever.”
There’s a pregnant pause between us as her eyes search mine as if trying to gauge the depth of my sincerity. Then, after what feels like an eternity, she nods almost imperceptibly, making my fingers shift against the warmth of her skin.
“No other men,” she says evenly. “For as long as we’re married.” Something almost like a challenge glints in her eyes, making me feel like we’re back on familiar ground for the first time since our last encounter. “I don’t do things halfway either.”
I’m tempted to say something in response to that, but instead I just nod and let my hand fall away, breaking the connection between us.
She rolls her shoulders back, runs her hands over her hair, and opens the door. When she returns to the table, she adopts a mask of composure, her mouth set in a firm line, her eyes cold.
Her parents, my mother, and my brothers file back into the room, followed by the lawyers. I can feel their stares as they watch me, but I direct my next words mostly to my mother.
“Looks like we have a wedding to plan.”
The reaction that ripples through my brothers is varied, but none of them take it easily in stride. They’re all stunned, and a couple of them—mostly Reid and Dominic—seem angry. Affronted.
I can understand why. I feel blindsided. Betrayed, almost. I can only imagine that they feel the same.
After all, it’s not just my future on the line here—it’s the whole family’s. Which is exactly why I don’t have a choice but to bend to my father’s final wishes.
Three years.
I can handle three years if the prize lasts a lifetime.