Page 42 of My Horrible Arranged Marriage (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #20)

ISAAC

J ett called me a few days after I first asked him to dig into the tabloid leak. True to form, he didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Some guy named Sampson Blake,” he said the second I answered the phone. No hello. No warning.

My stomach dropped.

Of course.

Of course it was him.

I gritted my teeth and turned away from the windows of my penthouse. “You’re sure?”

“Sampson Blake,” Jett repeated with that flat tone of his that somehow managed to sound both disinterested and vaguely annoyed. “I triple-checked. Guy’s got a habit of running his mouth, especially when there’s a chance to smear your name and make himself feel like a big man. Ring any bells?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “He’s Mina’s ex. The one who cheated on her with a bridesmaid.”

Jett let out a whistle. “Yikes. Class act.”

“But how the hell did he find out about the engagement being arranged?” I asked, pacing now. “That’s not something you just guess. Did someone tell him?”

“Don’t know yet,” Jett said. “Look, I found the squeaky wheel. You didn’t pay me for an oil change.”

“Come on, Jett. I need to know where he heard it. That matters.”

“You’re a high-maintenance client and you don’t pay worth a shit,” he said flatly, then hung up on me.

Typical.

I knew he’d get me the truth, but in the meantime, I had to compartmentalize and get back to business.

Mina was expecting me in a few hours. Today was our big food tasting.

The caterers were bringing in options for the dinner menu and a few cakes to sample.

She was excited. I could tell, even if she tried to play it cool on the phone.

And me? I was nervous as hell.

Not because of the food or the wedding. Because of how badly I wanted her to stay in this with me.

I walked to my laptop and sat down. I quickly typed Sampson’s name in the search bar. I needed to know more about the guy trying to ruin my life.

“Know your enemies,” I muttered.

My search turned up exactly what I expected.

All a bunch of society fluff. His law career.

Nothing about the breakup with Mina. She had been right about all of that.

They buried the story and made sure his shiny reputation remained intact.

Anybody that Googled Sampson was going to see the carefully crafted image that painted him as an amazing human.

“Asshole,” I said with disgust.

He was pissed that Mina was moving on without him.

Pissed that he hadn’t broken her. Pissed that he was wife-less and Mina was going to be marrying someone else.

I had a feeling Sampson actually thought she would go crawling back to him.

By blowing up our engagement, he was hoping to be the hero that stepped in and saved her after I broke her heart.

“Fuck that.”

I closed the laptop and went to get ready to see her.

I hadn’t told my brother the whole story about the engagement.

From what I believed, only me, my father, and Hectar knew.

The story that got leaked was just the surface.

I wondered if one of the household staff had told Sampson.

I didn’t know who would have that kind of connection, but money made people do crazy things. Jett would find out who told Sampson.

I arrived at the Duvall estate right on time, dressed in a button-down and good jeans with my favorite half-boots.

I would have just worn my usual cargo shorts and a tee, but we were going to be taste testing in an exclusive business.

And this was important to Mina. The caterer was apparently extremely desired and had a waiting list longer than my arm—Mina’s words.

But again, the Duvall and Bancroft names could move mountains.

We had vendors begging for the chance to be included in the wedding.

It was good advertisement for them. They would be serving the who’s who of New York.

If they impressed our guests, they drummed up more business for themselves.

Tori let me in and waved me toward the sunroom where Mina was apparently doing more wedding stuff.

Mina looked up from the table as I walked in, and damn if my heart didn’t do that stupid lurch it always did when I saw her.

She wore a pale blue sundress, and her hair was pulled back loosely, soft tendrils framing her face.

“Hey, you,” I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “You look…”

“Hungry?” she offered, grinning.

I chuckled. “Beautiful. But yeah, let’s go.”

I drove us to the office for the catering company. We walked in together with my hand holding hers. I felt like I had to keep a hold on her. I was so afraid I was going to lose her.

The caterer was a guy Mina’s dad knew. The dude was a Michelin-starred chef from Italy who now catered events for Manhattan’s upper crust. He had a full spread prepared: options for starters, entrées, and four mini wedding cakes in different flavors.

“Wine?” the caterer offered as we sat.

“No thank you,” Mina said quickly, waving her hand. “We have something already picked out. I want to taste the food without it being dulled by alcohol.”

Right. Her dad had made a deal with some local winery. Again, the winery would want to show off.

We started with appetizers. There was a delicate mushroom tart that Mina hummed over, and a mini lobster risotto that made her eyes roll back in delight.

“I want this,” she said, pointing her fork at the risotto. “I want to bathe in it.”

“Noted,” I said, scribbling it down on the little tasting sheet the chef had given us.

The chef’s helper returned with a tray filled with several small plates. “We’ve got three options for the main course. The filet mignon is very popular. We also have an herb-crusted salmon, and a wild mushroom risotto for the vegetarians.”

Mina nodded. “I like it.”

“We also have the duck confit.”

“Thank you,” I said.

The helper disappeared, leaving us with the small servings. “I’m all about the filet mignon,” I said.

“There are so many people that don’t do red meat,” she said with a sigh. “I was thinking a chicken dish. Does duck count?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think so. Let’s see.”

One bite in, Mina went pale.

She put her fork down slowly. “I think I need a second,” she said, touching her stomach.

I was out of my chair before she could even push hers back. “You okay?”

She shook her head faintly. I helped her stand. She was clammy. I was having flashbacks.

“Your… appendix?” I asked.

I wasn’t an anatomy guy, but I was pretty certain there was only one appendix. Could there be something residual?

“Is there… I mean, do you think you have an infection?” I asked.

“I just need some air,” she muttered.

I got her outside into the fresh air and sat her down on a bench just off the garden path. It was a warm day, but there was a light breeze. I crouched in front of her, brushing her hair back.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to wave me off.

“Yeah, that’s why your face went ghost white,” I said. “Wait here.”

I jogged back inside, grabbed her a glass of water, some napkins, and remembered the little basket I had seen on a side table.

Clearly, not everyone tolerated the exotic foods.

There were chewable Pepto Bismol tablets, Tums, and breath mints.

I grabbed a handful of all of it and walked back outside.

When I got back to her, she looked a little better, but still off.

I handed her the water and watched as she took slow sips.

“Do I need to take you back to the hospital?” I asked softly.

“No.” She smiled. “I’ve never been a fan of duck anything. I’m more of a chicken girl.”

“Then we aren’t serving duck,” I said. “Done.”

She smiled again. “Thank you. I’m really okay. I’ve just been pushing it.”

“I told you to take it easy.”

She looked at me again. That was when I saw it. A cold shiver ran down my spine.

“Nerves?” I asked gently.

She hesitated.

Shit.

This was about the wedding. Maybe the article. Maybe both.

“It’s not cold feet,” she said suddenly, reading my mind.

“I didn’t say?—”

“I know,” she said, and gave me a small smile. “You were thinking it. I’m okay, I promise. I just… can we sit out here a little longer?”

“Of course,” I said, sliding onto the bench beside her.

We sat in silence for a minute, her shoulder against mine, her breathing evening out.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said after a while. “About the night before the wedding. Maybe we could host a rehearsal dinner here? Just for close friends and family.”

“I like that,” she said. “Tori will love helping plan that. And it gives me a good excuse to wear one of the dresses I’ve been dying to use.”

“I knew there was an ulterior motive.”

She laughed, which made me feel a little steadier. Then she leaned into me and said, “I can’t wait for you to see me in my wedding dress.”

“Tease,” I murmured.

“I’m serious. It’s perfect. You’re going to fall over.”

“I already did,” I said, deadpan. “Several months ago. You just didn’t notice.”

She looked at me, something soft and vulnerable flickering in her eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “You know that, right?”

She nodded slowly. “I do. I think I do.”

“Good.”

We didn’t talk about the article. Maybe she was letting it go. Maybe she trusted me enough to believe it was just tabloid noise. Either way, I wasn’t going to bring it up and risk reigniting it. I hoped it was dead. I hoped we never had to talk about the article or what it accused me of.

“We should go back inside,” she said. “I don’t want to offend the chef.”

“We don’t have to,” I said.

“I’m fine. All good. We have to get this done and we still have to try the cakes. That is non-negotiable. I might let you try the rest of the food, though, and we’ll have to rely on your palate.”

“Deal,” I said.

Back inside, the staff looked very concerned. I did my best to smooth things over, assuring them the food was great. I wrote down the beef and fish dishes for the main course.

“Can we move on to the desserts and cakes?” I asked and pulled out the chair for Mina.

The cakes were a blur of sweetness and decadence.

Mina’s eyes lit up as she sampled each one, her earlier discomfort seemingly forgotten.

She hummed in approval over a rich chocolate ganache, then sighed dreamily at a delicate lemon raspberry cake.

I watched her more than I tasted the desserts.

I wasn’t big on sugary stuff but watching her enjoy it was a real treat.

“This one,” she said finally, pointing to the lemon raspberry. “It’s perfect. Light but not too sweet. And it’ll pair beautifully with the champagne.”

“Lemon raspberry it is,” I said, scribbling it down. “You sure you don’t want to try the red velvet again? You seemed to like that one too.”

She shook her head, a playful glint in her eye. “Nope. Lemon raspberry. It’s summery and light. It’s decided.”

Mina leaned back in her chair, looking satisfied but tired.

“You okay?” I asked quietly.

She nodded, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just a long day. Wedding planning is exhausting.”

“Tell me about it,” I said with a chuckle, though I could tell there was more she wasn’t saying. “I thought planning your father’s party was difficult enough. It was nothing compared to this.”

“It’ll be worth it in the end,” she said, nodding. “I might just need to pace myself a little bit more.”

“Let’s get you home.”

I got her back to the Duvall estate. Instead of hanging out, I insisted she take a bath and not do anything except rest. On the drive back to my penthouse, I kept thinking about how pale she’d gone, how unsettled she’d looked.

It had to be stress. I just hoped it was regular wedding stress and not jitters. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, but if she had doubts, I didn’t want to push her into this. When I put a ring on her finger, I wanted her to feel joy, not sadness.

Maybe the damn article had bothered her more than she’d let on. Whatever was going on with her, I would have to pay close attention and make sure she was okay.