Page 17 of Stick to the Deal (Friendship Springs Romance #3)

Two Truths and a Lie

T he occasional pop of the fire is the only sound as I lounge on the couch with my book. After two weeks in the city, the silence almost makes me think I’m going deaf. The auction had listed this place as a villa, but it’s more like a cabin. Not that it isn’t completely charming.

The A-frame house is fully surrounded by a wooden porch and set up on stilts in a small glen.

A coal stove provides needed warmth against the chill northern air.

Blond wood planks on the floors, walls, and ceiling complete the rustic look.

Large glass windows with delightful green trim and gorgeous fabric sashes offset any ruggedness and give a very fairy tale ambiance.

A modest but well-stocked kitchen shares the first floor with a narrow dining table and the built-in couch I’m currently lying on.

Above sits a loft, divided into two bedrooms which look out over the living space.

The only closing door is the postage stamp sized bathroom.

Everywhere, lanterns and strings of fairy lights are sprinkled, providing low mood light.

Headlights flash, sending shadows dancing across the wall. He’s here. Footsteps echo off the wooden steps moments before the doorknob turns. Reginald walks in, dropping a leather duffle and shrugging out of a thick peacoat. I place my bookmark and tuck my feet under my ass to make room for him.

He sinks into the cushion with a slight sigh, his head falling back.

“Long flight? ”

“More like a long week.”

His gray cable-knit sweater hugs his torso and highlights his coloring.

This might be the most informal I’ve seen my husband-to-be.

He toes off his loafers and props his argyle covered feet on the coffee table.

My lips quirk at the pattern and the dress slacks.

So much for casual. How the man can stand to fly in those restricting clothes, I can’t understand.

“Business or family drama?” I ask.

Reginald’s hand scrubs down his face before his elbow falls to the arm of the couch. He braces his temple on his upturned fist and turns tired eyes in my direction. Smudges darken the skin under those steely eyes. His straight lips look extra firm.

I find myself wishing I could do something to lighten his load. Which is a very off-brand thought.

This world doesn’t value softness or kindness.

It is not designed to reward the timid. Nice is seen as weak.

No one will go out of their way for you.

Everyone is out only for themselves. They may seem to be your friend, but only as long as your goals are aligned.

As soon as it’s you or them, they’ll choose them every time.

Don’t get me wrong. I’d do anything for Bree or Anna.

Kidney, liver—just not the whole heart. Even from them there are pieces of myself I keep locked away and safe.

If they needed something, they only need to ask.

Even that damn leprechaun and lumbering marine they’ve decided to marry.

A shock reverberates through me at the realization that Reginald has joined that list of people I’d go to war for.

And in only a month of knowing each other.

“The business is going fine, at least for now. My mother, however...” He lets out another sigh.

Creases form at the sides of his eyes. There’s something he doesn’t want to say. The unspoken truth hangs like a weight in the air.

Anna once asked me how I pick apart people.

I don’t actually know how to explain it.

There’s this current around people which shifts with their mood.

I guess the mystics would call it your aura.

It’s not literal colors radiating around a person, more a vibe or resonance.

Something felt rather than seen—like the wind.

It can tell you a lot about a person’s motivations, their character in general, but by watching for the shifts, you can tell if someone is holding back or full-out lying.

I sort through the strings until I find the right one to tug.

Why would his mother be unhappy? Is it the business?

There’s this double standard in our circles about working.

Men are expected to continue growing the family’s wealth for future generations, but not with their own hands.

They’re supposed to delegate, invest, sponsor.

Then use their leisure time, sprinkling their time and money on the less fortunate like benevolent figures.

It’s supposed to show how generous they are, but unquestionably it’s about proving how rich they are.

They have so much they can give swaths of it away, no problem.

Something tells me it’s not the business though. I would bet Countess Silverbrook doesn’t even know about it. Which is its own tantalizing puzzle to pick apart. So if it’s not Reginald’s work, that only leaves…

“She doesn’t approve of me, does she?”

His hand drops as he jerks upright and winces. Bingo. “It’s not really you, Nic. She had her own vision of my future and is having trouble letting go.”

I nod absently. “I get it.”

“I’m sorry.” He rests his hand on my thigh. The warmth seeping through my thick leggings and spreading through me.

Sitting up, I rest my hand on his. “Actually, in some ways, I’m relieved.”

“However so?” His brows pinch in genuine confusion.

“My grandmother isn’t exactly a fan of yours, either.” I wrinkle my nose in sympathy at his shocked look.

“Does she know about my title? I thought that’s what every grandmother wanted?”

I chuckle and pat his hand. “Not this one. In fact, she disapproves so much that we can count on one less seat at the wedding.”

“I’m sorry, Nic. This isn’t what you signed up for. If you want to end this now, I’ll completely understand,” he says, his expression guarded.

Is that what I want? It would make things easier with my grandmother, but then what? How would I find someone else who meets her impossible and apparently changing standards? No. My word is good for something. I made a deal and I’m going to stick to it.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m still in this.”

His lips lift in the barest hint of a grin.

I wonder, again, what a full smile would look like on this handsome, broody man.

“In that case, I have something for you.” Still holding my hand, he reaches with the other to grab a box out of his messenger bag.

With the push of a button and a slight snick, the velvet parts to reveal a stunning ring.

“It reminded me of you. Classic but unique. I hope you like it. ”

“It’s beautiful.” Lifting my hand, he gently slips the ring on my finger. It fits perfectly. “Wow.” This feels real now. How does a hunk of metal and carbon change so much?

“I guess we should start planning the wedding, only a couple of months to go. Have you thought of a location yet?”

“Not really. I might like to throw a good party, but a society event of the year isn’t exactly my thing. Honestly, I was going to let my grandmother plan it, but that was before…” I slump down, nibbling at some dry skin on my lip.

Reginald squeezes my thigh. “I’d ask my mother to arrange it, but…”

“Yea… Don’t you wish we could just elope? Skip right over all the pomp and ceremony?”

A gleam appears in his eye. “Well, why can’t we?”

“Are you serious?”

He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts typing away. “There’s a national park nearby that has an elopement package. We only need to get a license in town tomorrow. It’s completely legal.”

I slump back against the cushions. “Well, it would certainly make things easier. I’d have full access to my trust fund.”

His face falls. “Dammit. We haven’t signed the prenup yet.”

The oh-so-dramatic prenuptial agreement, if anything, is a reminder that marriages started as business deals, a literal contract detailing out the aftermath of a divorce.

I’m an heiress, of course I’ve always known I’d need one.

Thank god this isn’t an actual love match, and that Reginald is from a similar background or this could have been awkward.

Wait, that’s it, he’s from a similar background.

“We don’t need it.” I wave him off.

“What?” Reginald’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to be a fucking earl. Half of our combined can’t be that much off.”

“Nic…” he looks pained. “About that…”

“Look, I’m not planning on a divorce anyway, are you?”

“Well, no...”

“Then it doesn’t matter. Come on, show me the options.”

Ok, yeah, maybe I was looking forward to shopping for some haute couture wedding gown.

How often do you have the excuse for a dress that costs as much as a car if not to marry a peer of the realm?

Overall, this marriage is a means to an end.

No need to drag it out. Especially when the biggest advantage the both of us are getting is maintaining our freedom.

“Nic, I really think you should reconsider.”

When he doesn’t move to show me his phone, I continue.

“Divorce happens because of hurt feelings and too much emotion. We’re going into this with open eyes and a solid basis for an alliance.

I’m not worried. Plus, didn’t you need to find a place in New York?

This will make paperwork so much easier. ”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Absolutely.” A sense of calmness comes over me as I realize I honestly mean it.