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AIDEN

E mory Hunter is the worst person I’ve ever met.

I’ll do anything to make her my wife.

It’s incredible that she found the deed.

Shocking, actually. Our families have been fighting each other over that land for a hundred years, ever since Prince-Hunter Bourbon became just Prince Bourbon and the Hunters turned to less legal pursuits.

My father would have given half of our estate to have this piece of paper.

And she just marches into my house and demands we make a deal.

I’d laugh at the audacity if I ever felt like laughing anymore.

She’s the perfect solution and she doesn’t even know it. I showed up to the party tonight feeling like I was being dragged to the gallows but out of solutions. And now, her. She’d probably run if she knew how grateful I am for her.

Grandfather would lose his mind if he knew we were in the same room together.

He’s out in the ballroom now, negotiating my marriage to a woman who doesn’t realize how little I have to offer.

The thought of disappointing that faceless woman has been pressing on my chest since I finally gave in to his demands last week and agreed to marry, inherit my portion of the estate and the shares in Prince Bourbon, and do my duty as his heir.

Emory’s eyes narrow in displeasure as she reads, clearly drawing the same conclusions I did.

Her personality hasn’t changed, even if her looks—I press my lips together and force my gaze away—her looks have gotten sharper, like a picture coming into focus.

I see her in town now and then, in court, even at the one miserable arbitration we attended, but those were across a long conference table.

It would take her about seven seconds to find a man to marry, because some men are into hot and evil. She looks like a female villain in a superhero movie. The one the hero knows he shouldn’t want but pants after anyway.

Up close, I can see how some men might be drawn in.

She can look innocent when she wants to, with the long blond hair she braids in a crown over her head and those full pink lips she covers in lipstick.

She even has freckles on her upturned nose, like gold dust. She’s at her most innocent—and most dangerous—when she’s accusing you of cheating or taunting you about your grades.

When she’s stealing liquor from your dorm room or smirking at you when she wins in court.

Most of the time, she takes pains to make sure the outside matches the inside—100 percent evil queen. She paints those lips bloodred and she dresses to kill—literally. Her shoes could take out an eye, or something more important.

She has no morals, no manners, and the drive to win. She’s perfect.

She spears me with a glance, interrupting my thoughts. “I read it. So?”

“The deed says to a married Prince and Hunter, should they be so bound at the time the land transfer is completed …” I repeat the relevant phrasing.

“Yes, you can read. Very impressive.”

I fold my arms and ignore her taunts. She’s going to be very upset in the next two minutes when she realizes I’m right. “Should they be so bound. The land is intended to go to a married Prince and Hunter. Not separately married.”

There’s a flash of panic in her eyes. “That seems—”

“Like fate is laughing at us.” I raise my brows. “Think about it. The deed dates back to 1919. If it were meant to go to our ancestors if they married, it would have been split already.”

“Fuck,” she whispers. Her face is paler than before. Join the club, little Hunter.

“Correct.”

“But I don’t want to marry you.” She sounds horrified, and something smug and hot pulses behind my breastbone. I haven’t felt like this in months. Sharper. Like my senses are coming back online.

“And I don’t want to marry you.” I shrug. “You want to end the feud, don’t you? You want the land just like I do.”

“Of course,” she snaps. “Just—not like this.”

I tap my finger on the desk before I glance at the door and the grandfather clock next to it. It’s nearly eleven, and like Cinderella, I turn into a pumpkin at midnight. Or not a pumpkin exactly, but a betrothed man.

I gave Grandfather my word that I would find a wife.

And now I have.

Just not the one he wants.

She gestures at me. “Don’t you have a girlfriend? Or something?” The sheer distaste in her voice makes me want to laugh. In fact, I’ve laughed several times since she barged in tonight.

I tilt my head as I watch her fidget. Humor. With her. The blackness that swirls inside me parts briefly as she scowls at me.

“No,” I finally say. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m not interested in that.”

“Dating?” She squints at me.

“Marriage. Expectations.”

“So why are you willing to marry me, then?” She looks suspicious.

I sigh. I’m going to need to tell her some of the truth, or she’ll walk away.

“There are hundreds of people in that ballroom, each of them hoping to merge their family with mine.”

She folds her arms. “My point exactly.”

“All of them would have expectations. They’d want love.”

“Oh.” She falls silent. “And you don’t want that.”

I shake my head. “I want a business arrangement. No expectations from either of us.” No chance of disappointing someone. No chance of trying and failing to make someone happy. “You wouldn’t expect love from me. You see me for who I am.”

The sheer horror on her face is comical, but it’s also a relief.

“Of course I wouldn’t expect love. From you?” She shakes her head.

“Excellent.” Now that the perfect solution has presented itself, I need to get her to the altar. Emory solves everything. I marry so my siblings don’t have to. I get the shares of my family company and the land I need to do the only thing I care about—make my father’s whiskey.

“For how long?” she asks.

I’m so close to getting her there, but I can’t let her see how badly I want this.

She’ll sense blood in the water immediately.

“Doesn’t matter to me.” I lift one shoulder and let it drop.

Her eyes are narrowed on my face. “I just need a wife before I turn thirty. Come to the events I need you for and then do whatever you want the rest of the time. Drag race, buy shoes, feast on the blood of innocents. This arrangement could last forever, as far as I’m concerned. ”

Normally, she’d scowl and lobby an insult back, but for once, she appears to be thoughtful. “Until the transfer goes through. That’s all the deed requires. Not a day more. We split the land when the time is up and we agree not to sue each other after.”

I nearly sag with relief. “Done,” I say.

I push off the desk and start yanking open drawers.

The detritus of a century of business fills the insides—fountain pens and old watches, scraps of paper with Dad’s slashing script, an antique handgun that hopefully doesn’t work.

I grab a fistful of metal and dump it on the desk.

“You like diamonds?” I hold up a ring.

Emory chokes on a breath, and I take sick pleasure in the shock on her face. “You keep diamonds in a drawer like pocket change?”

I fish another ring from the pile, my movements hurrying. They’ll come looking for me any minute now. “I keep my pocket change in my pocket.” I flick her a glance. “I’m not a monster.”

Her lips are parted in shock, and her face is pale.

“Having regrets?” I ask her. “You could always give me the land and back out.”

“I would rather die,” she snarls.

The corners of my lips tug up. “I’d like that as well.”

She looks like she’s being strangled as she swallows a response, and my smile grows.

“Let’s go.” I gesture for the door.

“Go where?”

“So suspicious.”

She growls under her breath.

“To get married, of course.”

Her pretty blue eyes flare. No, not pretty. Just blue. “Tonight?” Her gaze darts to the door.

Fuck. 11:13 p.m. I need her out the back exit and in my car, not on the brink of running.

“If I walk back into that ballroom, my grandfather is going to announce my engagement to someone else. Money will change hands. Contracts will be signed.” I take a step forward, and she tips her chin up. “You want that land or not?”

She shifts on her feet, still uncertain. I know she wants that land. I know her father won’t accept this marriage, just like my grandfather won’t. We need to be married tonight.

“You think your family will stand for this?” My voice is low and coaxing. “Are you going to go home and tell your father you’re marrying a Prince and ask if he’ll walk you down the aisle?”

She pulls her lip between her teeth before she sighs.

“Let’s get this over with.”