Page 3

Amelia

He’s an absolute caveman!

With his squared jaw covered in a salt and pepper beard, the neatly combed lush hair brushed away from his face, and the dark brown eyes filled with storm clouds, he gives off the impression of a modern businessman.

But he’s stuck in the stone age.

“Yes.” I nod. “Let’s get a few things straight.”

I take a step toward him, expecting him to retreat a step, but he doesn’t move, and I end up stepping on his shoe.

His left eyebrow peaks, and he looks down where my ballet flat-covered foot presses against his highly polished, probably tailor-made Oxford.

Do they tailor-make shoes? Fashion has never been of any importance to me. Lucas was the one who like the finer things money bought. I couldn’t care less about material things.

Losing one’s mother and being nothing but a hindrance to one’s father did that to a person. Who cared about things when the basic needs weren’t being met?

In the end, it’s me that retreats a step, but that’s fine. Space is a good thing in this situation.

It will keep me from slapping him.

“First of all, we’re not getting married. Second, give me my phone!” I thrust out my hand, palm up, and wiggle my fingers at him.

He stares at it.

The silence stretches.

Then, while I’m still wiggling my fingers, he tucks my phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

The jacket fits him too damn well. I can make out his muscular form beneath it.

“Did the attorney not go over what happens if you don’t marry me?” he asks, his accent lightening now that I’m not accidentally insulting him.

“He did.” I drop my hand to my side.

Maybe he can be reasoned with. I just need to calm down. Even if my heart is jackhammering in my chest and the urge to kick this man in the shins is nearly overwhelming.

A calm head will solve this.

“If I don’t marry you, then I lose the full inheritance.”

“Not entirely,” he cuts in. “You’d still be entitled to a small trust, a hundred thousand dollars, if I remember the number right. But more important, for me, I wouldn’t receive the majority shares of the Moreau Investment Firm.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t give a god damn what they do with Lucas’ investments or his firm. It’s the foundation that’s important.

“I don’t really care about any of that.”

“Oh? So you don’t want the multimillion-dollar inheritance your brother left you? You don’t care about that?”

“Of course I do, but I’ve managed just fine without all of that this far.” My phone rings, drawing my attention to his breast pocket. “I need to get that.”

“No.”

Just that.

Just one word given hard and full of an authority this man does not have over me.

“No?”

“Yes. No.” He nods.

The phone continues to ring. It could be a problem at the center.

My jaw clenches.

The sooner I get this finished, the faster I can get back to work.

“Okay, let me get straight to it then.” I scramble to remember the little speech I had prepared for when I arrived.

I had it memorized. I practiced it over and over on the cab ride over, but as soon as I entered the office and saw him, it all just flew out of reach.

Anger mixed with surprise at how attractive he was messed up my entire plan. But I had my head on straight again and getting back to the plan was best.

“Let’s start over.” I clear my throat to get rid of the little squeak I heard in my voice. “I’m not going to marry you. I understand that means you’ll only inherit a small percentage of his shares in the firm. However, you’ll have enough shares to yield some power. I just need assurance that you’ll keep the funding for the foundation intact.”

I take a short breath. Appealing to how this benefits him will work best.

“You have a lot of wealth. You don’t need Lucas’ investment firm. So, this way, you don’t get stuck with me as a wife, you still earn good money from the firm, and all you have to do is agree that the foundation keeps getting funded.”

He stares at me a moment; I assume to think it over.

“No.”

“No?” This man is going to make me absolutely bonkers if he doesn’t stop with one-word answers.

This is my future at stake. The future of the Moreau Center that an entire community depends on hangs in the balance. There is more than just me involved here.

He draws in a breath, making himself even larger than he already appeared.

I mean really, the man is at least six two, a full foot taller than me. Does he really need to make himself that much bigger? He takes up the whole room just with his ego.

“I’m not sure you listened to your attorney,” he starts. “According to the bylaws of the firm, the majority of the shareholders needs to remain a member of the Moreau family. Or a spouse of a Moreau family member.”

“Yes, he told me that. But you’ll still get some shares if we don’t marry. So, you’ll still get money.” Why isn’t he listening? It doesn’t make any sense to marry a stranger when he can still have shares and be free of me.

“You’re not understanding. If the majority of the shares aren’t held by a member of the Moreau family, or their spouse, then the firm is no longer obligated to fund the Moreau Foundation.”

He pauses a moment for me to digest the information.

“Without Moreau Investment Firm, the endowment that the foundation is funded by will be the only source of funding. Which means, once that money is gone, the foundation is gone with it.” He explains this like he’s already looked over everything. And he probably has.

I shouldn’t have put the attorney off for so long. Dmitri has had more time to come up with a battle strategy than me.

“The endowment earns interest,” I fight back. “And so long as the investments are well managed, we can continue to survive.”

He tilts his head. “Who has been managing the investments this long?”

My stomach sinks. “Lucas.”

“Your brother has been investing in the foundation for years. Your expenses are more than the yearly interest earnings.”

“Are you saying I don’t run the center well?” I won’t allow that insult to go unchecked.

I may not know the ins and outs of the investments, having been more than happy to let my brother handle that, but I know damn sure that I know how to do my job.

“No. I’m saying the cost of running it is more than interest alone can handle. The money you receive from donors every year helps, but your brother’s yearly contribution has kept your doors open.”

“Then I’ll take over the shares. I’m a member of the Moreau family.”

He waits a moment, like he’s waiting for me to catch up with him.

“What?” I blurt out when he remains silent.

“If you remain unmarried, you lose the inheritance altogether. Which means you can’t take over the shares. So, you lose the company. And without the income from your brother, you’ll be out of money within a year. Your foundation will close, and the center will be out of business.”

He’s a cold-hearted bastard.

Why the hell would Lucas want me tied to this man in any way? He’s completely backed me into a corner. If I had been married by now, my husband would take over the company, leaving me to keep running the foundation while the funding continued to flow. But since I’m not, Lucas picked this man, this arrogant, mountainous man for me. To go against the marriage, I lose everything.

“Why do you want the company? Are you big into real estate investment?” I look around his office. “You seem to be doing fine with your club.”

He lifts a shoulder, like it’s an insignificant question.

“Marrying you gives me controlling shares of the company. Anything less than that is a waste of my time.” An arrogant grin tugs up the left side of his mouth. “Also. It’s time I marry and start having children.”

I stare at him. My jaw slackens.

“And I suppose I’ll do?” The ice in this man’s veins could air-condition the entire building.

“Lucas talked about you many times over the years. You are intelligent, have a good work ethic, and are young enough to give me many children.” He lists these things as though he’s checking off a job requirement form.

“Give you children…” I blink, unsure how to combat his level of crazy. Maybe I should have Ramon talk to him. This man may need a lot of counseling.

“Yes.” He nods, like there’s nothing else to say to that.

“Maybe you’re too old to have kids, ever think of that?” As insults go, this is pretty weak. But it’s not my fault.

He has me all flustered.

Because not only is he saying the most outrageous things, his eyes warm as he says them. The few men I’ve dated in the last few years have been annoyed by my goals. He seems to appreciate them.

Dmitri takes one small step forward, putting him too close to look at unless I tip my head.

“My age isn’t an issue,” he says. “Men can have children much longer in life than women. Unfair, but true.”

“I’m not having children with you.” I want to yell it, but it comes out soft. It’s because he’s crowding me.

How can a woman think with him so damn close?

“I’m not marrying you, Dmitri.”

“Then you will lose the foundation.” His statement is given in such a casual, ‘too bad for you’ sort of way.

My hands ball into fists, and I’ve never wanted to stomp my foot so hard in my life. A full-on tantrum. That’s what I want to have right now.

I want to throw myself on the floor, kicking and screaming about how unfair all of this is.

I’ve lost everything. Lucas has ripped everything from me with no warning. And now this Neanderthal won’t help me get it back.

If I’ve ever earned the right to have a tantrum, this is it.

“Amelia.” His soft voice pulls me from the storm I’m letting myself get pulled into. “You have no real options here.”

“There’s always options.” I swallow hard. When I look up into his eyes, I’m unsure of myself. I want to hit him, but at the same time I want him to touch me.

A sense of humanity. Something to tether me while the winds of my panic and grief try to tear me away. If I could have a connection, something that’s real and tangible, maybe everything wouldn’t feel so outside of my control.

There has to be a way out of this; I just haven’t found it yet. “The only option you have now is to decide if you want to have a large wedding in a church or if I should have a judge meet us at the house to perform a small ceremony.”

I blink.

He’s talking about the wedding.

My phone goes off in his pocket again, and I’m whisked away from the cloud of insanity this entire conversation has thrust me into.

“I have to get back to work,” I say, pressing my hand against his chest. Damn. Stone has more give than this man.

“You need to make a decision.”

“I told you. I’m not marrying you.” I swallow hard when he leans into me. His mouth is only a few inches from mine.

How the hell did I get here?

And why can’t I make my body move away from him?

“And I told you, you don’t have a choice, moyo dikoye plamya .” He slides his hand across my cheek, cupping my face.

His mouth overtakes mine. It’s not a gentle or romantic kiss, but one of possession and domination. His fingers curl into my hair at the base of my neck, pulling just enough for a bite of pain to spread through my nerve endings.

Straight to the very center of me.

My fingers twist the lapel of his suit as his tongue brushes against mine. I haven’t been kissed so thoroughly since… I can’t remember when.

By the time he breaks away, I’m lost in a haze again.

He kissed me.

I told him I refused to marry him, and he kissed the sense right out of me.

“I have meetings tonight, but tomorrow, I will take you to dinner and we will sort out the details.” He gently tugs my wrist, signaling that I’m still gripping his suit jacket.

My face heats and I let him go, stumbling back a large step. He reaches out, grabbing my arm and helping steady me before I embarrass myself even more by falling on my ass.

I clear my throat again and look away from him, waiting for the warm tingle in my lips to subside so I can talk properly.

“I told you, Dmitri. I will not marry you and I meant it.” I hold out my hand for my phone. “I have to go.”

Keeping his stoic eyes on me, he pulls out my phone and lays it in my palm.

“I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night.” He walks to the door and opens it. “Do not make me wait. I’ve been patient today, but I am not a patient man.”

Patient?

He doesn’t even know the meaning!

“I’m busy tomorrow night,” I lie. I haven’t had the need for a social calendar since college. And even then it was full of study groups. My days are filled with business stuff, but come nightfall, I’m as free as a bird.

“Seven o’clock,” he says, putting his arm out to stop me when I start to walk through the door.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking up at him. I can be just as stoic and cold as he can.

He leans down to my ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down my spine.

This man should not be having so much effect on my body. It’s annoying.

“Unless you’d like to learn your first lesson of what disobeying your husband will look like.”