Page 73 of The Wrong Husband

All I have to do is open my mouth and say no.Do it.I try to form the words, but they won’t come out.

I can’t stop thinking about the ER and my colleagues whose jobs depend upon it. And Connor needing to access the money in his trust to help the children… And…the fact that if Connor weren’t in my life, I would miss him. The thought of him with someone else? It's inconceivable. That comes as a shock.

I’m not seriously considering Connor’s proposal, am I?

The atmosphere in the room is so heavy, it presses down on my chest, making it difficult to breathe. Connor’s grip on my shoulder grows stronger, almost to the point of hurting. The heavy weight is strangely reassuring. And grounding. My focus is anchored by his presence. I draw in a few deep breaths, willing the anxiety in the pit of my belly to dissolve.

Next to me, Connor’s body seems to have turned into granite. Unmovable. Unshakeable. The pressure coiled under his skin makes the air around him vibrate. It pushes down on my shoulders, stretching the air between us until it crackles. My head spins with unspoken emotions.

On instinct, I slip my arm around his waist. For a few seconds, his body seems to grow even more still. Then, a ripple moves under his skin. His body relaxes. He slides his big palm down to wrap his fingers around my bicep. His thumb turns a slow circle. Even through the fabric of my dress, I can feel the warmth, like he's branding me.

Arthur tilts his head, a keen look infiltrating his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak. That’s when the Great Dane slumbering at his feet yawns and rises to his feet.

He shakes his big head, pads over to us, and butts my thigh. His weight is enough for me to sink deeper into Connor, who pulls me flush against him. I feel the planes of his chest, the jut of his hip, the strong powerful column of his thigh. His scent seems to envelop me—soothing and arousing, at the same time. I relax a little more, unable to stop myself from melting into him.

"Guess that answers my question," Arthur drawls.

"What do you mean?" Connor growls from above me.

The Great Dane woofs, looking from me to Connor, then back at me. His jaw is open, and his tongue hangs out. He looks, for all the world, like he’s laughing. "You’re adorable, you know that?" I reach over and scratch him under his jaw. He chuckles.

No, really, this dog is halfway to being human. He’s the most intelligent mutt I've come across. He nuzzles into my palm, then pads back to his place next to Arthur. He turns to face us, before sinking down to his haunches with a sigh.

"What Arthur means is that he would be a blind man not to see that the two of you are a couple, and that he’s keen to findout when the two of you will be married. Isn’t that right, dear?" Imelda fixes Arthur with a stern look.

Arthur’s face grows ruddy. He looks like he’s going to protest, but contents himself with nodding. He takes Imelda’s hand in his and brings it to his mouth to kiss her fingertips. "You’re right, my dear. Of course, if Connor wants to have access to his trust, he needs to get married. In fact…" he lowers her hand and looks at me. "If he wants to retain control of his patents, he’ll have to tie the knot within the next month."

Every line of Connor’s body pulls taut. His chest widens. Every muscle fiber in him goes into overdrive, like he’s taken a cortisol hit to his bloodstream. I can feel the rigidity in his posture. If he were wound any tighter, he’d be pre-cardiac.

"Patents?" I frown.

Arthur nods. "Connor made one mistake—he trusted his team to patent his biotech work. I paid them to file the patents in my name. The revenue’s been going to him through the company, but that stops now—unless he gets married.”

A whisper runs around the room. I’m aware that his friends and family are watching the unfolding of the drama. They grow restive, clearly not happy with what they’re seeing. At the same time, they don’t interrupt.

This is, strictly speaking, a family affair. From the corner of my eye, I see one of his brothers shift his weight from foot to foot.

He doesn’t say anything, but the stiffness of his shoulders indicates he’s not happy with Arthur’s negotiating tactic. And that's what it is.

He’s holding Connor’s life’s work over him. And the money that he could use to make a difference in the lives of so many children.

Connor’s face is all hard edges, shadows, and sculpture that’s unflinching. Only the nerve ticking at his temple tells me he’s keeping his temper under control.

I touch his arm. “What are the patents for?”

He rolls his shoulders. “My team developed a seizure-reducing drug for pediatric epilepsy, a beta-cell regeneration therapy that could cure Type 1 Diabetes if caught early, and a treatment that’s helping kids with Cystic Fibrosis live longer,” he says quietly.

“That’s incredible,” I breathe.

He nods. “I had a good team.”

I narrow my eyes. “A team that wouldn’t have made it that far without your involvement, right?”

He exhales. “I was part of the first research group. We made early breakthroughs—funded by money from my grandfather. I sold that IP to bankroll future trials. By then, I was already deep in the field on other assignments. It was…a lot.”

Connor runs a hand through his hair.

“I left the day-to-day to the team my grandfather built. They handled the patents, the legal side. I didn’t know he’d told them to file everything under his name.”