Page 4 of My Horrible Arranged Marriage (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #20)

ISAAC

I leaned against the marble counter, munching on some gourmet cheese bits I found in the fridge. I didn’t remember asking for them or having the tray delivered, but I was glad someone had. It was good. The sharpness went well with my cold beer. I wasn’t going to get drunk.

Not yet. I needed to be somewhat sober for my evening plans.

I’d sent the entire house staff home for the night.

No drivers lurking, no butlers pretending not to hear anything they shouldn’t, no maids giving me disapproving looks over their dusters.

The Bancroft estate was mine tonight. I popped another chunk of cheese in my mouth and walked over to the electronic pad on the wall that controlled the lights, blinds, climate control, and music.

I pulled up the music app and found a playlist that promised a good time.

I picked up the bottle of wine I opened thirty minutes earlier and inhaled.

“Perfect.” I smiled.

The wine was overkill, but I could treat Melissa.

Shit, was it Melissa or Marissa? I’d just call her Baby.

That would keep things simple. I was going to show her a good time.

A little wine. A little midnight swim and a lot of sex.

Some chicks were all about the business.

They wanted sex and that was that. Other women liked a little wining and dining and then they delivered amazing sex.

Meli—Baby was the wine and dine kind. But it was always worth the extra splurge to make her feel special.

I heard the gate buzz and grinned. I hit the speaker button by the back door. “Come on in,” I said, pressing the gate release. The low and thumping R and B song pumped through the speakers.

As I strolled to the front door, I adjusted the collar of my white shirt.

I was already picturing her—long legs, big eyes, shy smile.

It had been a long damn week and this night was about to make it all worth it.

If she followed my instructions, she was going to be naked.

I planned on starting things off with a bang.

I opened the door with a little extra flair, prepared to look casual and magnetic.

Instead, I froze.

There she was in a short robe and what I assumed was nothing else—but she wasn’t alone.

Standing on either side of her were my dad and Kathy.

Oh, fuck me.

Baby’s cheeks flushed a deep, painful red. She hugged her arms around herself and threw me a betrayed look, like I’d set her up to walk into a goddamn intervention instead of a hookup.

Dad’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well, look what we found wandering near the gate,” he said smoothly. “Appears someone forgot half her wardrobe.”

“I didn’t know you were having a party,” the girl said in a small voice, eyeing me accusingly. “You should have told me.”

I took a step forward, trying to fix it. “I didn’t know they were coming,” I said quickly. “We were supposed to be alone, I swear.”

She didn’t believe me. Of course she didn’t.

She made a wounded little noise in her throat, then turned on her heel and stomped down the long drive, her heels clicking angrily against the stone.

I considered going after her for about two seconds—then decided maybe it was better for both of us if I didn’t.

The door closed with a firm click behind her.

Dad shook his head at me, mock disappointed. “Using our family home as a beacon to lure helpless young women who don’t know how promiscuous you are? For shame, Isaac.”

“Please,” I said, flashing my laziest grin. “Of course they know. I’m a Bancroft.”

I caught the way Kathy frowned at that. She looked playfully amused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dad and I exchanged a long look, and for once, it was like I could see the past and the future of our family in one smirk.

Kathy had six sons who were just as bad as I was.

At least they had been before they got married.

And her late husband, my uncle or my father’s brother, was the biggest Bancroft man whore there was.

That’s how she ended up with at least six additional stepsons she never knew about until her scandalous husband was six feet under.

“Nothing, darling,” Dad said, draping an arm around her shoulder and steering her inside. “Where’s Mona?”

Mona was the housekeeper that was one of the few staff employed full-time.

“She went to her daughter’s for the night,” I murmured.

Kathy frowned. “Really? I thought I told her we’d be back tonight.”

“I gave the staff the night off,” I confessed.

Dad looked at me once again. I could see him putting the pieces together. He knew what my plans had been. And staff would have been in the way.

Just then, a new song came on. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me when a deep, crooning voice started singing about making a woman beg for it. We were all adults here. There was no lying about the “it” the man was referring to.

My perfect night was quickly turning into a nightmare. The kind of nightmare that involves you naked in public and you can’t find your clothes.

Shit. I’m so glad I decided to put clothes on. I had thought about wearing my birthday suit so Baby wouldn’t feel like she was underdressed.

Thank God for small miracles.

“Come on,” Dad said, leaving their bags in the foyer. “Isaac will make us something to eat.”

“Wait, what?” I said, trailing after them.

“You dismissed the staff,” Kathy said over her shoulder. “We’re hungry. I need tea after a long day of traveling. We always have tea to unwind.”

“Isaac will make it for us,” Dad said cheerfully.

I blinked. “You want me to make tea? What country is this?”

“And a sandwich,” she added with a teasing smile.

There were a lot of things I could do well—mix a cocktail, charm a room, seduce a woman in under ten minutes—but domestic chores were not on that list. Still, I made an effort.

Sort of.

I found the tea bags easily enough, but boiling water turned out to be a whole production. I burned my hand on the kettle. Twice. Kathy watched with undisguised amusement as I finally put a teabag in each of the mugs and poured what might have been lukewarm water over it.

“Beautiful,” she said dryly. “You’re a regular Julia Child.”

I made her a sandwich too—if you could call it that.

The sandwiches I made were man sandwiches.

A monstrosity really. I piled cold cuts higher than the Empire State Building, slathered on mustard and mayo with the precision of a toddler finger-painting, and squashed it all between two pieces of whole wheat bread.

Dad and Kathy looked at it like I’d just served them roadkill.

“What?” I asked, wiping my hands on a dish towel. “It’s a sandwich.”

“It’s a heart attack on bread,” Kathy said, gingerly poking at it.

Dad took a sip of his lukewarm tea and winced.

Kathy took one look at it and burst out laughing. She took a huge bite, anyway, shaking her head. “Pity the woman who marries you.”

“There will be no such woman,” I assured her. “I’m a confirmed bachelor. Forever and always.”

“About that,” Armand said in that deceptively casual tone that meant he was about to drop a bomb.

My eyes drifted to the two glasses of wine I had poured in anticipation of a little action. I had a feeling I was going to need both. No, I was going to need the whole bottle to endure what would likely be another one of my father’s talks about settling down and finding a career that made me happy.

I reached for one of the glasses and took a sip before taking a much bigger drink.

“What is it?” I asked.

Dad looked like a cat waiting for the mouse to notice the trap it had walked into. I was too stupid to realize I was the mouse until it was too late.

“What are you up to?” I asked, more suspicious now.

“You’ve always been smarter than you pretend to be,” he said with a small, proud smile. “I need a favor.”

“A favor?”

That was not what I was expecting. I had braced myself for the lecture.

“It’s about an old debt.”

I frowned and looked at Kathy, who suddenly seemed uncomfortable. “I’m going to run a bath. You boys catch up.”

I watched her go—lighter on her feet than I remembered, more vibrant. Marriage and grandbabies had done wonders for her. Ten years ago, we’d almost lost her to illness. Now she practically glowed.

I turned back to Armand, my grin fading. “Alright. Out with it.”

He picked up the other half of the sandwich and took a bite. I knew he waited until Kathy left to take a bite of the heart attack on a plate because she would have lectured him about the nitrates or some shit. He chewed and had a look in his eyes that was really making me uncomfortable.

“You’re aware that, many years ago, I made some unfortunate business investments.”

“Define ‘unfortunate.’”

He shrugged. “A real estate deal. Turned out to be a scam. Partners vanished with the money. I was left holding the bag. And the criminal charges.”

“Is this about the kidnapping?”

He shook his head. “Different deal.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Damn, Dad. One of these days you’re going to have to write a book. All my life I thought you were just some rich business guy.”

He waved a hand. “I am. But getting rich isn’t always a straight line.”

“You almost went to jail?”

“Very nearly,” he said with an unsettling calmness. “The Bancroft fortune would have collapsed. Our reputation ruined. You would have grown up very differently.”

I whistled low. “Why didn’t I ever hear about this?”

“Because Hectar Duvall made sure you didn’t.”

The name hit me like a jab to the ribs. Hectar Duvall. Power broker. Kingmaker. Not someone you crossed. My visitor. The little hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. I could feel something coming.

“He pulled some strings,” Dad continued. “Talked to a few powerful people he had in his pocket. Paid off the right people. Saved me. Saved us.”

“And now you owe him,” I said slowly.

“Correct.”

“And that’s the favor he’s calling in,” I muttered.

“Yes.”

I rubbed my hand over my face. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

Dad smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Hectar has a daughter. Yasmina.”

“Mina,” I corrected automatically.

“Yes. Mina,” Dad said. “She’s struggling.”

I arched a brow. “Struggling how?”

“Hectar believes that she needs to be recalibrated. He feels a business partner would be helpful.”

“Recalibrated,” I repeated flatly. “Like a broken compass?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I blurted out the question I already knew the answer to.

“Hectar wants you to date Mina. Charm her into marrying you. It will help her settle down. As I said, she’s been a little lost.”

I stared at him. “You’re joking.”

“I’m deadly serious.”

I let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. “You want me to marry her?”

“First, a courtship.”

“A setup,” I said.

“A date,” he corrected. “An introduction. You’ll use your typical charm to get her under your spell. That’s just to start, of course. The idea is you marry her, give her a child, and after a few years, you can quietly divorce if you so chose.”

“What the hell is going on right now? You’re talking crazy.”

Dad shrugged. “Hectar just wants his little girl to settle down and get her life stable. Once that’s done, your obligations will no longer be binding.”

I leaned my elbows on the island, feeling like the floor might drop out from under me. “Even if I agreed to this, which I do not, you really expect Mina Duvall to just fall into my arms?”

“You have your charms,” Dad said, almost kindly. “And she’s vulnerable. Lonely.”

“And when she finds out this is a setup?”

“She won’t,” Dad said firmly. “Unless you tell her.”

I shook my head. This was insane. Even for us.

“You’re serious,” I said again, voice hollow.

“As a heart attack.”

I stared out the window at the pool lights waving under the water. I was supposed to be naked in that pool with a willing woman right now.

“Dad, this is fucked up. You’re treating his daughter and me as a business partnership.”

“No, the arrangement is, but the marriage should and could be about real love.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“You owe him too, Isaac. You just never knew it.”

I looked at him. “You’re actually serious,” I repeated.

He smiled and slid off the chair. “I’m headed up to bed. Turn off the lights before you go to bed for the night. We’ll talk more in the morning.”