Page 20 of Bride on the Dotted Line (Blackstone Center #1)

Nick

Being in paradise with her is like learning to cook for the first time.

Every moment is fresh and exciting, new flavors to discover, new techniques.

Sienna and I watch the waves roll in on the villa’s deck in the mornings, sipping coffee and enjoying a newfound, quiet togetherness.

She works through her emails with her feet curled under her, stealing glances at me when she thinks I’m not looking.

I like that. I love that.

I wish I could go back in time and cuff the bastard that negotiated four weeks’ vacation down to only one. I can’t go to another country for a month. I’ve got things I’m working on. Please. Nothing could be as good as living these moments with Sienna.

Especially now that I get to tease her.

In the mornings, if I catch her looking at me, I make sure to stretch, slow and deliberate, just to watch her fingers twitch against her keyboard. When I get out of the shower after my evening run, I walk shirtless from the bathroom to my room, still wet, in case she catches a glimpse of me.

Yeah, it might be egotistical. But how can I help it when her pupils go so wide, when I can practically feel her heartbeat, when my dick stirs just passing her in the hallway?

On the third day, I wash my clothes in the villa’s laundry room. I fold a fresh shirt and place it at the bottom of the dryer—a little revenge for her leaving her panties on the staircase last week.

Sure enough, when I check the next day, my shirt is gone.

We play our roles for the public during the afternoons. Café visits, swims in the warm, clear water, shopping at the local market. I call our driver and have him bring us to a crowded beach, just so Sienna and I can stroll from end to end, hands entwined.

The sky is a deep, beautiful azure, clear and cloudless. A tourist points at us and whispers to his friends. I notice the way Sienna’s back straightens, the way she tightly holds her mouth.

Leaning toward her as we walk by, I murmur, “Don’t worry about selling it. Just enjoy yourself.”

“I am enjoying myself,” she shoots back. “Have you seen this place? It’s like a screensaver. I love it here.” I could get used to the crisp, beautiful satisfaction her happiness sparks in me. “Oh—his phone is pointed at us. Can you put your arm around me?”

I do her one better, slipping my arm around her hip and pressing my lips to the crown of her head.

Her hair is soft, fragrant with vanilla and coconut sunscreen.

She’s wearing one of those strapless, frilly tops that ends just above the curve of her waist, accentuating her hips and belly. I’m pretty sure I have a fever.

“Like that?” I relish the way her breath falters at my touch. “That’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Sienna says. “Perfect.”

We walk for a while longer, sunlight gleaming off a calm ocean, lighting up the fronds of waving palm trees. When we reach the edge of the beach, she pulls out her phone, typing. My pocket buzzes.

Sienna, 2:41 PM

You’re good at this.

Her eyes slant in my direction, then flick away. I smirk at her, typing back as casually as I can manage.

Nick

Good at what?

Sienna

Being a husband.

It’s so at odds with what every girlfriend has ever told me that I almost laugh.

Nick

Really?

Sienna

Really. You’re a natural.

If the whole billion-dollar company thing doesn’t work out, maybe you should start a side hustle being a dream husband for hire.

Ha. You think?

Only until you open Ember & Hearth, of course.

I look up from my phone, watching as the breeze toys with a loose strand of her hair. The ocean rolls toward our feet, then recedes, leaving a wash of dark sand and seaweed in its wake.

Fuck, I want to say.

You have no idea , I want to say.

The more time I spend at Harwood Restaurant Group, the better her scenario sounds. Not the husband for hire thing—the finally opening my restaurant thing. The leaving it all behind thing. My CEO position, my father’s expectations, Roderick and Lionel, the path my life was meant to take.

The being a husband thing.

I glance down at her again. She’s smiling distantly, eyes on the horizon, cheeks red with the sun reflecting off the soft sand. My resolve sputters like a faulty engine, goosebumps rising on my arms.

Her husband. In another life, I’d like to be her husband. Or boyfriend. Or … something.

But I can’t say that. I shouldn’t even be thinking it. I have to think of her future, and mine.

I type, ‘ Could be lucrative ,’ and swallow the rising tidal wave down.

I get a call from my father on our last night in Fiji, while I’m busy grilling lobster tails on the deck.

“Dad?” I say, propping my phone between my shoulder and my ear. Garlic butter drips from the brush I’m holding over the lobster, the fire beneath crackling. “Everything alright? What time is it there?”

He doesn’t bother with hello. “Did you see it?”

His tone is too flat for this call to be anything good. I set down my brush, turning to stare into the horizon. Sienna is just visible through the villa’s window, speaking to her mom on the phone, reclined on the living room couch.

“See what?”

“I had Alvin send you an email. Check it.”

I look down at the lobster, estimating three more minutes of cooking before it turns to rubber. “I’m busy right now, but I can?—”

“Check it, Nicholas. While I have time.”

There’s no refusing Victor Harwood. I sigh, rubbing a hand on my apron. “Fine. I’ll put you on speakerphone. Just a sec.”

The e-mail from Alvin is at the top of my inbox. It’s a forwarded news article, and for a split-second, I think that whoever the PI is working for finally released an exposé about Sienna. There’s a cold plunge in my chest.

Then I read the headline.

“Why are you sending me this?” Finance Tycoon Brothers Exit Company to Chagrin of Shareholders. “Roderick and Lionel left their jobs?”

My father’s voice is toneless. “They’re looking for new opportunities. Have you thought about what I said at the gala?”

“The gala?” The only thing coming to mind is the sound Sienna made when I put my mouth to her bare shoulder in my kitchen. It takes me a second to remember the conversation Victor and I had by the champagne tower. “You mean what you said about hiring Lionel.”

“Yes, Son, and ridding yourself of this pointless grudge you have. You would do well with men like Roderick and Lionel on your team. Now’s a good time to strike while the iron’s hot.”

The sensation that gathers in my gut is so dark and angry. It feels like a storm cloud. I turn back to the grill, my jaw tight. Lemon juice and butter sizzles on top of the lobster tails.

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Nicholas—”

“No.” Maybe it’s because I’m in Fiji, an ocean away from my father and Harwood Restaurant Group, but the refusal just flies out of me, involuntary. “Roderick will never work at a company I own, Dad. Neither will Lionel, for that matter.”

Silence on the other end.

More silence.

My stomach squirms. I’ve never had an outburst like that with my father before—I wish I could suck the words back in. I busy myself arranging the cooked lobster tails on a plate, and when I’m done, he still hasn’t said anything.

“Dad? Are you still …”

“Is it your wife making you like this?”

I straighten. “What?”

“Your wife,” he repeats, low and dangerous. “Ever since your marriage, Nicholas, you have been distracted at work. Obstinate with me. Inflexible. You’ve always been difficult, Son, but you’ve never pushed back like this. It has me questioning whether you’re fit to run this company after all.”

My mouth goes dry. “I’m not inflexible , I just don’t want to?—”

“Don’t forget,” Victor says, the ice in his voice chilling me even in the heat of the grill. “Your contract with Ms. Hayes is signed under the protection of Harwood Restaurant Group. If I see any benefit to ending your agreement, I will not hesitate.”

I stare at the glassy surface of the villa’s infinity pool, trying to find a response.

“Do you understand, Son?”

“I …” It’s one thing to try and bully me into hiring Roderick and Lionel to the board, but to treat Sienna’s half of the agreement as if it’s nothing is another. He’s threatening to leave her and her family hanging without a second thought.

I glance over my shoulder, into the villa. She’s still on the couch, her feet tapping the air. She’s smiling, laughing at something her mother said. Happy. I can’t put that in jeopardy.

“I understand, Dad.” I hate how small my voice sounds. “I’ll think about it some more, alright? We’ll talk about it when I get back.”

He huffs. “Good.” Then he hangs up.

Behind me, the ocean washes in and out, foaming and sparkling. I stand in place, staring at my phone. Did my father really just threaten to end Sienna and I’s marriage over Roderick and Lionel?

Why does he care so much?

The headline Alvin sent clears up one thing, at least: Lionel was networking at the charity gala because he knew he’d be leaving his job soon.

It still doesn’t explain how he got an invite to the gala, though.

And why he and Rod left their current positions together.

Their company was solid, a veritable cash cow.

I carry the grilled lobster inside, a bitter taste in my mouth. I don’t like this. Victor isn’t telling me something.

But I can’t let it ruin Sienna and I’s last night.

Deal with it later.

Forcing my thoughts from my father, I toss a base of leafy greens into a giant bowl, adding a plate of fresh mango, pineapple, and avocado I’d prepared earlier.

By the time I finish chopping macadamia nuts and tossing the salad in a citrus vinaigrette, golden hour light is slipping across the walls.

Sienna and her mom’s conversation has gone quiet in the other room. I arrange two bowls with edible flowers and walk down the hall, vowing to not let Victor get in my head.

That’s when I hear her talking about me.