Page 17 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

Phoenix

My hand jerks, and my fingers slip on my wineglass, which tips over. The wine blots the tablecloth. Before I can react, he reaches over and straightens my glass, then drops his napkin over the spill.

I look from it to his face, suddenly breathless. "I don’t think I heard you right…" I clear my throat. "Did you say?—"

"Marry me." His voice is light, but his tone is intent.

"What?" I cough. "What are you talking about?"

"It would help the both of us."

My head spins. "You’ll have to explain this to me slowly."

"I need the money for my rescue mission. You need someone with influence to lobby the government from shutting down the ER."

I try to make sense of what he’s talking about and fail. "What does that have to do with getting married?"

"By marrying you, I get access to the money in my trust fund. My grandfather will be happy I'm settling down. He’ll agree to put the considerable weight of the Davenports behind liaising with the powers that be to stop the ER from shutting down."

"Ah." I swallow around the heaviness in my chest. I should have realized this wasn’t a proposal for a real marriage. Not that he could have proposed to me after knowing me for so little time. This is a proposition which could result in mutual benefit.

That heaviness in my chest seems to sink into my belly. My entire being seems to turn into stone.

Why did I think this man felt something for me? He wants to marry me, but not because he loves me.

"You’re talking about a liaison…of convenience?"

“Call it a strategic alliance.” He drags his thumb under his lips.

“I’m not offering you a fantasy. I’m offering you a partnership—with total transparency, and no strings you don’t agree to.

Call it unconventional. But what I’m offering is a win-win arrangement—and no one gets hurt.

There are no emotional traps. We walk into this with our eyes open.

What’s at stake is bigger than your happiness or mine.

We’re going to save the lives of many people by agreeing to this. ”

His voice seems to come from far away. He's couching his proposition with very reasonable words, but at heart, it’s still a transaction. A fake liaison. I shouldn’t be surprised by this suggestion.

He comes from a background I’m familiar with—where money is used to negotiate your way into what you want. There’s no reason to believe Connor is any different.

The silence stretches. The expression on his face is untroubled…and expectant. He’s waiting for an answer.

I look away, needing some time to gather myself.

I walked away from Drew because I wanted more. And the way my emotions for Connor seesaw, I feel much more for him than I did in every second of my short-lived relationship with Drew.

But a pretend relationship?

I should turn him down. But the part of me that feels like it owes the world, which recognizes that he’s right, that we could make a difference to the lives of so many, pushes me to consider his proposal carefully.

The Emergency Room has been my refuge from my personal life. I’ve spent more time there than at my own home over the last few months. To find out there’s a timeline to the ER shutting down brings home how serious the situation is.

My heartbeat accelerates; my stomach twists up in knots.

What would I do if the ER closed? What would my colleagues do? We could find other jobs, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Connor’s offering me a way out, a chance to stop it from shutting down. It means, the borough will continue to have access to the vital services the ER provides. It means, Emma can afford childcare, Sunita can help her mum, and John can keep saving for his kids’ future.

And Connor’s charity can keep helping children.

All I have to do is say 'yes.'

But to agree to be his wife? Despite it being a marriage in name only? Nope.

I broke up with Drew because I wasn't in love with him. I deserve love, and I won't marry for less.

I shake my head. "No, I can't agree to marry you." I throw up my hands. "I don't even know you."

"Hmm." He drags his hand over his mouth. The speculative look in his eyes makes my heart beat faster. "But the ER…"

I set my jaw. "If I needed the money, I’d go to my parents.”

"No, you wouldn’t."

"Excuse me?"

"You strike me as someone who’s independent. I'll bet, you decided not to take any help from your parents for your education. In fact—" He leans forward. "I’d wager you put yourself through medical school by taking on loans and even pushing yourself to take on jobs on the side."

I flush, half-amused, half-angry that he’s read me so easily. I don’t reply to his assertion, but my expression must give me away, for he nods with satisfaction.

"Don’t look so pissed off. It’s a fine thing you did. A commendable thing. After all, I did the same."

"You did?"

He nods. "I also had a fierce need to make it on my own. So, I made sure I got scholarships to put myself through university on my own merit."

"Scholarships, huh?" I scan his features. He’s so good-looking, it’s easier to believe he isn’t so intelligent.

Again, he reads me correctly. A smirk twists those beautiful lips. "Never judge a man by his looks."

My flush deepens. "I wasn’t. I didn’t think that because you're so handsome you don’t have brains."

His grin widens. "You think I’m handsome?"

Not again. I see what he’s doing and decide to play along. "Is that all you took away from our conversation?" I roll my eyes.

"Also, that I know you better than you give me credit for."

I toss my head. "We’ve barely met a couple of times. You don’t know me, at all."

"That’s where you have it wrong. As you pointed out, I’ve been watching you for almost a month and filling in the blanks, so I’ve formed a very detailed profile of you in my mind."

I’m still not sure how I feel about that. He may not have broken any legal rules… But I have mixed feelings about him getting to know so much about me, while I wasn’t even aware of his existence.

“You profiled me?” I ask slowly.

“It’s what I do when I’m on a surveillance job.”

"And he’s, no doubt, told you already that I’m the one who asked him to follow you.” My brother’s voice interrupts him, and I find him standing next to the table. When did he get here? "I hope you’ll forgive me for that. I was worried about you."

I tear my gaze away from Connor’s face with difficulty.

My brother looks contrite as he bows his head slightly. His hair is longer than when I last saw him, underscoring how six months have gone by since we last saw each other. But to hire someone to tail me? That's beyond the pale.

"What on earth is wrong with you?” I fight to keep my voice low so as not to draw attention. "Who does this kind of thing? Are you insane?"

“I was worried about you, Phe. You didn’t call, didn’t reply to my messages. You completely dropped out of sight.” He drags his fingers through his hair.

"I’ve gone months without calling you in the past.”

“Not like this. I haven’t heard a peep out of you in six months.”

“I’ve been on my own since I turned eighteen. I don't need to check in with you like you're my warden."

I narrow my eyes at my brother, and his shoulder slump even more.

"I can, and do, take care of myself, James. This was way out of line."

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I only have your best interests at heart,” he says softly.

I can see the apology in his eyes and the lingering worry. Damn, he really was trying to make sure I was okay. Some of the anger in my chest fades.

"You could have come by the hospital. You know where I work.”

He firms his lips. “And you’d have been so pissed off about my checking up on you, that you’d have stopped talking to me completely.”

He’s right. But I shove that aside.

“I’m even more pissed off that you asked your best friend to watch over me.” I wave my hand in the hair. "Who does that?”

We stare at each other.

My brother’s features grow soft. “I know, you can take care of yourself. But that doesn’t mean I can stop worrying about you, despite the fact you’ve always known what you wanted.

Hell, when I returned from being in the Marines and floundered around, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, I was jealous of you. "

"Of me?" I gape.

"Of how focused you were. How you were intent on becoming a doctor, and on your own steam. I wished I had half as much of an idea of where I was headed."

My older brother has always been so confident.

When he joined the Royal Marines, my admiration for him escalated.

A decade later, when he took early retirement, I know he struggled with fitting back into civilian life.

I was surprised when he decided to open a restaurant, but I figured he’d discovered a passion for food.

He made it look so easy when his restaurant was a success.

He captured the popular imagination in no time.

I didn’t realize how difficult this journey must have been for him.

I fight against the empathy that overwhelms me.

"Are you telling me this in the hope I’ll forgive you for your overbearing, overprotective, getting him”—I jerk my thumb in Connor’s direction—“to watch over me, bullshit.”

I scowl at him.

"I needed space. Surely, I’m allowed that?”

"Of course, you are. But you can’t blame us for wanting to make sure you were okay. Especially since, none of us could get through to you."

"Yeah." I hunch my shoulders. He’s making good points. And it was I who didn’t keep in touch with anyone. The fact that my family noticed I had dropped out of sight? It reinforces the fact that I’m not alone.

Emotions squeeze my chest and must show on my face, for James’ features soften.