Page 2 of An Inevitable Marriage

Not that it was easy. I had to learn more about cosmetics than I ever wanted to. But I’d do it all over again if it meant keeping this part of my mother with me.

Somewhere while I’d been lost in my own thoughts, Mr. Welsh had moved closer and when he spoke again, his voice, soft and steady, came from beside me.

“I hate doing this, but there’s more.”

“More?” I ground out. “What else could there possibly be?”

The older man laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “It’s not enough to just be married. You’ll have to stay married until your fortieth birthday. Only then will the company be put in your name.”

“You can’t be serious?” I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling. “So, if I, by some fucking miracle, get married now but end up divorced before I turn forty, I still lose Nouvelle Femme?”

“Afraid so.”

Great. Just bloody great.

I pinched my eyes shut and all I saw were my greedy grandfather and good-for-nothing cousin finally getting their filthy hands on my mother’s—my—company.

All because of some screwed-up clause in a will.

“I really am sorry.” Mr. Welsh’s voice intruded on my thoughts.

With a deep breath through my nose, I lowered my gaze to meet his. “You’re just doing what my mother asked of you.” I tried to hide my disappointment, I really did, but failed miserably. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Understanding I needed to be alone, Mr. Welsh nodded once before he spun on his heel and headed toward my office door. Once there, he stopped inside the frame to glance at me over his shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Liam.”

Yeah, I thought as I stared at the closed door where he’d stood moments ago,happy fucking birthday to me.

The bloody irony of it all almost had me laughing out loud.

Finding a wife was as likely as snowfall in the middle of summer.

I never went out. Well, almost never. The few times I had gone somewhere—other than celebrating a birthday—were usually when I got tired of my buddies, Tristan and Rafe, nagging me. And even those times were limited to four, maybe five times a year.

Not only that, I didn’t date.

At.

All.

Not that I didn’t have needs. I just took care of them in…otherways.

“Fuck.” Dropping my chin to my chest, I scraped a heavy palm over the back of my neck.

What the hell was I going to do?

I was no closer to figuring it out when a knock pulled me from my thoughts. Blinking back to the present, I was just in time to see my assistant, Tamara, walking into my office. “Rafe is here. Can I send him in, or do you need a few minutes to fix what’s wrong with your face, boss-man?”

Most people wouldn’t have tolerated an employee speaking to them in such a way.

I wasn’t most people.

Tamara was more than efficient at her job. She didn’t poke her nose where it didn’t belong, and most importantly, she never tried to sleep with me.

That was exactly why I’d put up with her sassy remarks for nearly five years.

I jerked my head toward the door. “Send him in.”