Page 12 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

I’ve talked to my brothers about this, but they don’t get why I’m so determined to find this artist. At first, I thought it was a woman, but they pointed out it could be anyone. And fuck, I have no leads. I’ve even gone to underground galleries to get a clue-in on who the artist is.

I send an email to Cora, my assistant, to see if she’s heard anything.

At my mom’s school, they have a website and shop where artists list their work for sale.

I’ve managed to buy a few pieces, all of which are watercolors and flowers, but recently, there’s been nothing new.

Mom even told the shop assistant, Ray, to set them aside for me and call when a new one arrives, but it’s been weeks since the last piece.

Right now, I have two paintings. One in my office and one at home.

Each time, I get frustrated by how undervalued they are.

Another reason I need to contact the artist. These paintings could sell for hundreds of thousands, even millions, yet I’ve bought them for just fifteen thousand each. A fucking steal.

I go to exit Instagram, but there are more stories from Liam. I can’t help myself… I click on them. This time, it’s a picture of his date. She’s pretty, but not my type.

A noise from down the hall interrupts my thoughts, followed by a faint “fuck” from Karley’s room. I sit up straighter, listening. Did she fall? Is she hurt?

“Karley?” I call out, already half-rising from the sofa. “Everything okay in there?”

There’s a pause, and I’m about to head down the hallway to check on her when her voice comes back. “I’m fine. Just knocked something over.”

I settle back down, relief washing over me at the same time it hits me.

She’s the perfect wife…

Beautiful? Check.

Loves Art? Check.

Funny? Check.

Easy to get along with? If you're not me… Check.

Charming? Check.

Knows me well? Check.

But there’s still one major problem: she hates me.

Do I have any other choice? I need this gallery.

She loves my mom, so maybe she won’t do it for me, but she might for her, at least until I can buy the gallery.

But what would she get out of it? Maybe money?

I know the classes she attends are free, and her part-time job is minimum wage.

I bet the tips from drunk women aren’t worth much.

The door clicks open, and Declan walks in, looking exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and his tie loosened around his neck. His presence brings me back to reality, reminding me that I still have to ask the most important person.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“It’s alright.” I get up from the sofa and clean the kitchen to keep busy, which is still messy from the toast. I smile. I haven’t had toast for dinner in years, not since I was a teenager. And fuck, it was good.

“Did you eat? Or did Karley leave this mess?” he asks, dropping his keys on the side table. “Actually, don’t answer that. I already know it was her.”

Declan is like me; he likes things neat and tidy, but it slipped this time because I was watching TV with Karley…

“Both.”

His eyes narrow, giving me that brotherly warning I’ve heard a thousand times. “ Don’t touch my sister. ”

But I need to ask him the craziest fucking thing.

Maybe I should get him a drink before I bring it up.

This would help both me and Karley. He can trust me not to touch her.

I’ve pushed her away once before. Her sad, broken eyes still haunt me, if I let myself think about it, but we could never work.

She needed to build her own life, and she deserved that chance.

Besides, her brother, my best friend, had forbidden it.

He was still hurting from being separated from her, the guilt, so not touching her was the least I could do for him, no matter how tempting she was.

And still fucking is. Now she’s older, with more confidence, sass, and curves.

Tonight alone, the room felt hotter, and I doubt she even noticed how hard it was for me, literally.

“Where’s Karley?” Declan asks.

“In bed. She went a while ago.”

He nods and heads to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and handing it to me. I take it, immediately drinking some to soothe my dry throat. I don’t know why I’m sweating… When he hears my dilemma, he’ll agree. At least, I hope so.

We settle on the sofas. He takes the one I was on, so I move to the other. I place my water on the coffee table and clasp my hands, keeping my gaze fixed on him. “I need to ask you something.”

He looks at me, still in his suit, and I understand why Karley said I looked uncomfortable earlier. He does now, too.

“What is it?”

“I had my meeting with Mr. Warne today—”

He nods. “That’s right. The Warne Gallery. How was it?”

“Yeah, the one I want for my mom.” I feel like I need to mention my mom. Declan knows how much the gallery and students matter to her, and it might soften what I’m about to ask.

His expression stays neutral as he tosses his jacket over the back of the chair. I take a deep breath to steady my anxiety of knowing what I’m about to ask.

He rolls his eyes. “What did Warne say?”

“It’s down to me and Liam.”

“He’s a douchebag. Surely, he wouldn’t give it to him. You’re a much better fit.”

I hesitate, rubbing the back of my neck. “He… he will if Liam gets married first.”

His eyebrows pull together as he shuffles to the edge of the sofa. “What?”

“He thinks we’re both immature. He’s told me before that he thinks I pretend to like art.” The words sting, making me feel like a fraud even though I’ve dedicated my entire career to this.

“No way. That’s bullshit.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s your life. You haven’t had one because you dedicate all your time to the galleries.”

I nod, but Declan’s staring at his hands, missing my gesture completely. “He needs one of us to settle down, some family agreement. Once that happens, then he’ll choose.”

My hands are trembling slightly, and I cross my arms to hide it.

“You could date anyone. That’d be easy.”

“Liam was out tonight on a date.”

His hand flaps around in the air. “Well, call someone.”

“When was the last time I was with anyone more than once?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. If he reacts badly to this, it could ruin everything: our friendship, the gallery, my mother’s dream, my entire career plan.

He scratches his brow. “I don’t know… a year?”

“Two.”

And even before that, it wasn’t much. I’ve never had a reason to. I want the kind of love my brothers and parents have, so I’d rather wait and focus on making money.

“Fuck, that’s a long time.”

I laugh, but it quickly fades. “You could say that. But that’s not enough for Mr. Warne.”

“What do you mean?”

“He wants Liam or me to be married. He wants to hand over the gallery to a happily married man because he wants to make sure it will follow the family tradition.”

Declan bursts out laughing, then laughs harder until tears form in his eyes. “You’re kidding.”

I force myself to maintain eye contact, even as his laughter cuts deep. I clench my jaw, counting to ten before responding.

“I wish. I told him I was engaged.” The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Saying it out loud makes the lie feel even more pathetic.

“You did?” He laughs again. “Fuck, you’re digging yourself into a hole.”

“And that’s why I need to ask you something.

” My heart pounds so hard, I can feel it in my fingertips.

I’ve run through every possible scenario, exes, friends, dating apps, professional matchmakers, but none of them would work fast enough.

I need someone who could convincingly play the part of a fiancée without raising suspicions. And there’s only one person who fits.

“You can't have my missus. That’s just fucking weird.”

I scrunch up my face. “I wasn’t asking for her.”

His laughter fades, and his expression shifts to confusion. There’s a moment of silence between us as his eyes narrow slightly. “Then who?”

I take a deep breath. The words feel like crossing a line I can never step back from. “Your sister.”

Fuck, that came out so wrong, and I quickly say, “I mean, as a fake thing.”

“No.” His face falls flat.

I hold up my hands, leaning forward on the sofa, watching Declan’s face carefully for any sign he’s about to explode. Right now, I'm not opposed to begging him on my knees, if that’s what it takes.

“Hear me out first. I need this gallery for my mom. She’s wanted it all her life, and Warne would never sell it. But now he’s willing, and she has no idea. She’s retired from galleries, and he won’t sell it to her. He wants someone young who can run it for years.”

I pause as Declan’s face tightens around his eyes, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He hasn’t thrown me out yet, which is already better than I expected.

“Your sister knows art, and I could help her.”

“How?” His voice is dangerously calm.

“I could give her money to buy a condo.”

“I can give her money.”

“I can give her more, and you know she won't take your help.” The words come out before I can soften them, and I immediately regret my bluntness.

He’s tried before, but she’s stubborn and refuses to take anything from him.

He crosses his arms, and I can see the flash of hurt in his eyes before he masks it. “She won’t take yours either.”

“I think I can convince her.” Doubt creeps in even as I speak. Will Karley really agree to this crazy plan? The same woman who tried to slam a door in my face just hours ago? But I’m desperate enough to try. “It would only be until I buy the gallery.”

“And how exactly are you planning to convince her?” His voice rises.

“She has a soft spot for my mom, and if she knows it's to help her, I think she’ll agree.”

He rises, paces the room, and shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“I promise I won’t hurt her. This could benefit her too.”

“How?”

“I’ll help her find her footing in the art world. Introduce her to the right people and help her build connections for when she’s done with school.”

He rubs his hand over his face before he stops walking and meets my gaze with his conflicted expression. “Alright, if she agrees, I’ll go along with it. But there’s one condition… you don’t fucking touch her.”

“I won’t.” A wave of conflicting emotions hits me.

Relief comes first. Declan’s blessing is more than I dared to hope for.

But it’s quickly followed by dread as the reality of what comes next settles in.

Tomorrow, I have to convince a stubborn, sharp-tongued Karley, who can barely stand being in the same room as me, to pretend to be my fiancée.