Page 16 of My Horrible Arranged Marriage (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #20)

ISAAC

T he bar was already packed when I walked in, the usual Friday night crowd filling every corner.

I spotted my brothers at our usual booth near the back—Kent nursing what looked like a whiskey and Zayn with a beer.

I was late, and I knew Hayes would give me shit for it, but for once I didn’t care. But then I noticed Hayes wasn’t there.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Kent called out as I approached.

“Sorry,” I said, sliding into the booth next to him. “Lost track of time.”

I raised my hand to order a drink. I was craving a dirty martini. “Where’s Hayes?” I asked.

“He couldn’t make it,” Kent said.

I snorted. “He’s pouting.”

“Why is he pouting?” Zayn asked.

I looked at Kent knowing he was anxious to tell my story.

“Go ahead,” I muttered. “But no one else.”

“Oh, this sounds juicy.” Zayn grinned.

“Isaac is courting Mina Duvall.”

Zayn’s eyebrows shot up. “Hectar Duvall’s daughter? The one who?—”

“Had that messy breakup with that lawyer guy, yeah.” Kent nodded, swirling his whiskey. “But here’s where it gets interesting. It’s an arrangement.”

“An arrangement,” Zayn repeated, glancing at me with growing interest.

I signaled the bartender, desperate for that martini now. “It’s not as bad as he’s making it sound.”

“Oh, it’s exactly as bad,” Kent countered. “Dad made a deal with Hectar Duvall years ago. Apparently, Duvall did something for Dad—saved him from jail time or bankruptcy or whatever—and now he’s calling in the favor.”

“The favor being…” Zayn trailed off, his eyes widening as he connected the dots.

“The favor being one of Armand Bancroft’s eligible bachelor sons marrying his wild child daughter and ‘settling her down,’” Kent finished, making air quotes. “And guess who got volunteered?”

Zayn stared at me, his mouth slightly open. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” I muttered, grateful when the bartender finally placed my martini in front of me. I took a long sip.

“And you agreed to this?” Zayn asked, incredulous.

“It’s complicated,” I said.

Kent snorted. “It’s not complicated. Dad dangled independence in front of him like a carrot. Marry the girl, get the career you want, full autonomy from the Bancroft machine.”

“Shit,” Zayn muttered, shaking his head. “That’s fucked up, man.”

“That’s what Hayes said,” Kent added. “Hence his absence tonight. He thinks Isaac is treating this woman like a transaction. Called him a spoiled prick.”

“I’m sitting right here,” I reminded them irritably.

“And?” Zayn pressed. “Is that what you’re doing?”

I set my glass down harder than I meant to. “Look, it’s not like that. I actually like her. We have a good time together. And Dad made it clear I didn’t have much choice in the matter. None of this was my idea.”

“Does she know about the arrangement?” Zayn asked quietly.

The silence that followed was answer enough.

“Wow,” Zayn said after a moment. “I mean, I’ve heard of arranged marriages, but this is some next-level manipulation. And she has no idea?”

“None,” Kent confirmed. “Her father’s intentions might be good, but he’s doing this all behind her back. And Isaac here is lying to her face while planning their happily ever after.”

“I’m not planning our happily ever after,” I snapped. “We’ve been on exactly two dates.”

“And what was that like?” Zayn asked.

“Good,” I said. “Honestly, I’m still pissed Hayes acted like such a sanctimonious prick about the whole thing.”

Kent chuckled. “He’s a happily married man, which apparently washes away all past sins and womanizing.”

“It does,” Zayn agreed. Of course he would say that considering he was recently in love as well.

I did understand why Hayes was pissed about the situation. And not at all surprised Kent thought it was funny. Kent lived for chaos.

While we were sitting there, Kent’s phone chimed. He pulled it out and started laughing.

“Shit, the two of you are still a hot story,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I just got another alert from the night at the club,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Old news.”

“Let me see,” Zayn said. “I missed it. When did this happen?”

“It was a week ago,” I muttered.

Zayn scrolled through the pictures that had run on all the social media gossip blogs. Mina and I had apparently been photographed dancing together at the club. Someone snapped another picture of us stealing away upstairs.

“We haven’t had sex,” I clarified.

Zayn looked up from the phone. “That’s a weird thing to say. No one even asked you.”

I snorted. “I’m serious. We haven’t.”

“Why?” Zayn handed the phone back to Kent.

“She’s different.”

Kent coughed. “Different? From what? Breathing women? I can’t believe you haven’t taken her to bed.”

“Why do you care so much?” Zayn chuckled and shook his head.

“No, seriously. What makes her different?” Kent leaned forward like he was genuinely curious. Zayn seemed less so. He had a knowing smile.

“I told you,” I said with a shrug. “She’s smart. Fun. Doesn’t take my shit. And she’s not afraid to crash weddings or plan the ugliest party Manhattan’s ever seen.”

Kent blinked. “That’s your bar for different?”

“She’s not chasing a ring,” I said. “She’s not impressed by the last name or the money. She gives zero shits that I’m a Bancroft.”

“Because she’s a Duvall,” Zayn said with a laugh. “She doesn’t need your name or money.”

“Exactly,” I agreed.

“Who was she dating?” Zayn asked.

“Not dating,” I corrected. “She was engaged. Guy cheated on her and she isn’t allowed to talk about it because it will ruin his good name. That’s coming from her dad.”

Zayn looked shocked. “No shit?”

I nodded. “Yep. And the guy is going to be at the big summer party tomorrow.”

“And you’re going to be there to make him jealous,” Kent said.

“Fuck him,” I muttered. “He’s an idiot. Mina isn’t the kind of woman you toss away. I think she’s spirited and was probably too much for him.”

“But she’s not too much for you,” Zayn said it as a statement.

“Yep.”

While Kent went to chat up a group of women at the bar, Zayn pulled out his phone and scrolled to his camera roll. His face transformed completely, softening in a way I’d never seen before.

“Look at this,” he said, pushing the phone toward me. “Marigold got this on camera yesterday.”

I leaned over to see a video of his infant son, barely three months old, lying on his back and giggling wildly as Zayn made ridiculous faces at him. The baby’s laughter was infectious, bubbling up like tiny bells.

“That’s the first real laugh we’ve gotten out of him,” Zayn said, his voice thick with pride. “Mari says he’s advanced for his age.”

“Of course she does.” I chuckled, but there was something about the pure joy on that baby’s face that made me feel a little strange.

Zayn swiped to another photo—this one of Marigold holding the baby while sitting in a rocking chair, her hair piled messily on top of her head, looking exhausted but radiant.

“She’s amazing with him,” Zayn murmured. “Gets up three times a night to feed him, then still gets up in a good mood. I don’t know how she does it.”

I watched my brother’s face as he spoke about his wife and son. There was something there I’d never seen before—a kind of settled contentment that made him look both older and younger at the same time.

“You’re happy,” I observed.

Zayn looked up, a little surprised. “Yeah. I am. It’s not what I expected, but… yeah. I’m really fucking happy.”

“Even with the sleepless nights and the diapers and the whole domestic scene?”

“Especially with all that,” he said, putting his phone away. “It fills a part of me I didn’t know was empty.”

I took another sip of my martini, letting the alcohol burn down my throat. “Sounds terrifying.”

Zayn laughed. “It is. Every day I’m scared I’ll mess something up. But it’s worth it.” He studied me for a moment. “You know, you might actually be good at it.”

“At what? Changing diapers?”

“At the whole package. Being a husband. A father.”

I laughed, shaking my head. My phone buzzed on the table. I picked it up to see a photo from Mina: a close-up of a horrifying centerpiece. The flowers were dyed blue—like, Smurf blue—and sitting in the middle of a lime green tablecloth.

Guess what showed up? Barney would be jealous.

I laughed out loud. “God, we’ve outdone ourselves.”

“What?” Zayn asked.

I flashed him the picture.

“It looks like a kindergartener chose the decor.” He cringed. “What the hell is that?”

“Part of the sabotage.” I grinned.

“What sabotage?” Kent asked, sliding back into his seat.

“Mina hates planning this fancy summer party for her dad,” I explained, showing Kent the photo.

“Dad insisted I had to help with the planning. More of them putting the two of us together. So we decided to make it the worst party Manhattan’s ever seen.

Ugly decorations, terrible food, a band that specializes in sea shanties. ”

“You’re deliberately sabotaging Hectar Duvall’s summer soiree?” Kent’s eyes widened with delight. “That’s actually hilarious. And suicidal. I love it.”

“Sea shanties?” Zayn repeated, looking confused.

I shrugged. “It was either that or polka. We’re going for maximum discomfort.”

“Her father’s going to murder you both,” Kent said, looking far too pleased by the prospect.

“Worth it,” I replied, typing a quick response to Mina.

Perfect. Can’t wait to see how the meat jelly turns out.

“Meat jelly?” Zayn read over my shoulder, his face contorting. “What the hell is meat jelly?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.” I grinned. “And apparently it comes in various colors.”

“Gross,” Zayn said.

“Who knew you were so into party planning,” Kent teased.

“She makes it fun,” I said without thinking. And there it was again—the smile I couldn’t stop from forming.

Kent caught it and raised a brow. “Wow. You are smitten . ”

“I am not.”

“You are so full of shit,” Kent said, gripping his new glass of whiskey. “You don’t smile at your phone. You barely text back most of the time. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re practically glowing.”

“You’re fucking hilarious,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

Zayn gave Kent a look. “Be nice.”

“I am being nice. This is me being nice,” Kent said, grinning like a gremlin. “But don’t think for one second that the rest of us don’t see what’s going on.”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“You’re catching feelings,” Zayn said. “And I don’t think you know what to do with yourself.”

I shook my head. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me. I know what I’m doing.”

“No, really.” Kent leaned forward. “You’re getting weird. Hayes says it’s a ticking time bomb. That you’re either gonna get your heart broken or do something colossally stupid and drag her down with you.”

I frowned. “Hayes can go to hell.”

“Already booked his ticket,” Kent said.

“You of all people should know I’m doing this to save your ass,” I said. “If it’s not me, it could be you.”

“Like hell.” Kent laughed. “Never happening.”

“If Mina decides she doesn’t like me, do you think Hectar is just going to forgive Dad’s debt?” I retorted. “I’m not the only single Bancroft.”

Kent shrugged. “I’m just saying, if you really like her, be careful. This all started with a secret, and if she ever finds out the truth, this whole house of cards could come tumbling down.”

“That’s a problem for a later day,” I said. “For now, I’m doing my best.”

Zayn nodded. “Then don’t screw it up. She’s already been through enough.”

“What do you know about her?” I asked curiously.

“The Duvalls are always in the news, man. Her dad’s intense. She’s been stuck in the public eye her whole life. She deserves someone who doesn’t make it worse.”

That hit me harder than I wanted to admit. I drained the rest of my martini and motioned to the waitress for another round.

Kent still didn’t look convinced. “So what’s the endgame here, huh? You gonna marry her? Pop out some baby Bancrofts? White picket fence and dog named Oscar?”

“Hell no,” I said, laughing.

But in the back of my mind, I wasn’t laughing.