Page 3 of Vicious Arrangement (Alpha Billionaire Daddies #7)

Chapter Three

ARIA

As I leave Quentin Memorial Hospital, scrubs off and jeans, T-shirt and hoodie on, I try not to let the moans of my colleagues about bills, rent and student loans weigh down on me.

I have them, too.

It’s just I don’t pay rent.

Not much, anyway, one of the perks, I suppose, of having a grandfather who has his own property development firm. I’m making a mental list of things I need to do, including food for Angus when my phone vibrates.

I pop my earbud in and answer. “Gramps,” I say, delight threading through my voice, even as I ignore that tiny little twinge of unease I get whenever he calls out of the blue.

We have dinner every Sunday and sometimes during the week, but he tends not to call around when I’m either going on or off shift. And definitely not during it.

“My girl,” he says, voice a little tight, like he’s upset, and it sends my heart into freefall. “Can you come to my office?”

“Of course.” I stop outside the hospital, an ambulance whizzing by to the emergency section. A slithering cold winds through me. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” The assurance rings a little hollow.

And I start speed walking in the direction of his Chelsea office, glad it’s not too far from me, ten or so blocks but walking’s faster than a train if I factor in getting to the subway and then catching the train, along with possible delays which happen all the time with breakdowns and overcrowded cars.

Forget an Uber or a taxi at this time.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. We’ll talk when you get there. Marla will wait for you.”

I disconnect the call and push myself faster, cursing the traffic lights against me as I dodge and dart around the people on the streets. The hospital is a public one, and it’s on the west side, so I don’t know why my walk suddenly seems to take three times as long.

It’s the panic that bubbles like acid in my veins.

Ever since I can remember, there’s been me and Gramps. He’s all I have and I’m all he has, and the last time he wanted to talk face to face about something was when he told me he had cancer.

But he’s a cancer survivor, having gone into remission three years ago.

Cancer can return. Or other things can happen. He just went to a funeral for an old friend of his, and he’s had other health scares in the past.

My heart thumps harder as I speed walk, as fast as I can.

“He didn’t want to talk on the phone, so?—”

I make myself stop. This isn’t going to help, working myself up and it won’t stop whatever he has to say either.

But the thing is, I can’t. I love him, and yes, maybe I’m overprotective, but he’s a good and loving man, the only father I’ve known. I was so young when my parents died, and I only know them through Gramps and photos.

The cancer returning is a fear I usually keep locked away tight.

Because it’s insidious and?—

“Stop.”

It’s just after six when I arrive at Sanderson Inc.

The building is quiet, and the security guard lets me in. I press the elevator to the top floor where the executives and Gramps’ office is.

I hate the stillness and quiet. I know everyone’s gone home. Maybe the janitor is here on a lower level, or a junior staff member on another floor, but up here, it’s quiet as the grave.

Walking as slowly as I can I make my way down the hall, past the empty offices and the lounge, and to the big glass doors, beyond which is Marla, his personal assistant’s desk, and then Gramps’ offices.

She sees me and smiles. “He’s in there, honey. Just knock.”

When she goes, I knock.

“Come in.”

I turn the handle and step inside the bright office with the curved arched floor to ceiling window, a warm and welcoming space I know as well as his home and mine.

“Gramps, are you all right?”

His shoulders slump as he breathes out and comes around his desk to hug me tight, kissing my cheek. “Better now I’m looking at you.” Then his voice changes. “Please sit, Aria. I need to talk to you.”

I grab his hand as he starts back to his seat. “Is it the cancer? I can?—”

“No, child, not that. Sit.”

He pours some cognac into a snifter, and I shake my head as he offers me one. Gramps nods, takes a sip and sits. He sets down the glass.

“I’ve been working on a merger, a way to build the company and bring more to those in New York who need it.

I was working on it with my friend Oscar, who died.

But… his grandson sees things differently.

He’s not only refusing the merger but saying if…

if you don’t marry him, he’ll destroy the family company. ”

I stare at him, head reeling.

“A merger dead in the water I can take, but not… not the end of Sanderson’s. We’re a New York staple. We make money, but we help people.”

Guilt curls inside me. Sure, I’ve heard him talk about business, but mostly I tune it out and… a merger? Does that mean we’re not doing well?

“Why the hell would someone want to marry me?”

“Because you’re beautiful and a catch, and why wouldn’t someone?” he says hotly.

Any other time, I’d be trying to hide a smile. But there isn’t one to hide. “Is the business okay?”

“We’re good,” he says, which in Gramps’ speak could mean anything. “But Templeton Properties is huge, Aria, and they could most definitely crush us.”

Even I’ve heard of Templeton.

“So what? Some asshole wants a wife or he’ll destroy you? This is blackmail. I’ll go to the press I’ll?—”

“Go to the press, and he’ll destroy us and ride it out.” Gramps closes his eyes, and he looks his seventy years in that moment and tired. Very tired.

My heart breaks.

“Who the hell does he think he is,” I snarl.

A ghost of a smile touches Gramp’s mouth. “A very rich young man, I imagine. One who… I don’t know. Oscar could be hard, but…” He sits up and shakes his head. “I honestly don’t know what to do.”

My stomach turns to lead.

“Aria, I hate this, I do. I hate asking you to marry someone you don’t even know, let alone love, but the thought of losing this place, this New York institution that’s been in our family for generations is heart breaking.”

A billion protests scream at me from inside. But how can I voice them. I hurt and guilt’s a dark, heavy thing, something I’ve fought ever since I chose a path I know disappointed Gramps.

He wanted me to go into the family business, to take over, and instead I chose nursing. He says he’s proud of me and I’m sure he is, but like that small amount of guilt I carry with me, I’m sure he carries disappointment.

But to give dues where they belong, he’s also been the man who shifted from talk of me taking over to one of my hypothetical children doing it.

We’re the only family each of us has.

I should have followed in his footsteps and gone into property development, expanding his affordable housing and greener buildings in even more philanthropic ways.

He raised me by himself. I was two when we lost my parents.

And he’s never resented me, never shunted me to boarding school, and I did have a nanny, but he was home every day. He took me to appointments, cheered me on and comforted me when I was upset. He cared for me when I was sick and he was the proudest person there when I graduated.

I owe him.

How the hell can I say no to this man who’s my father, mother, and entire family? I can’t. I can’t refuse him help when he needs it the most.

“What’s his name?”

He looks at me. “Noah.”

I nod. “I’ll meet him and discuss this proposition.”

I’m running late—again—to meet Katie. Angus is fed, and the clock in my head ticks, but luckily we’re meeting at Piano Pig, a bar on Ninth Ave in Hell’s Kitchen, not far from where I live.

Katie throws her arms around me when I slide in next to her at the bar, the show tunes being banged out on the piano as people sing along.

“Thank you so much for the locket, it’s gorgeous,” she says, touching the gold heart around her throat. Her present.

I smile tightly. “Of course, pretty for pretty.”

But instead of making a lame joke, she frowns. “What is it? I know something’s wrong.” She gasps. “Did that idiot you dumped?—”

“No.” I don’t bother arguing about who dumped who and I’m not interested in going over that mess. “I just saw Gramps, he’s good, but… There’s this guy, Noah Templeton, who’s threatening to not only pull out of a planned merger but destroy Sanderson if I don’t marry him.”

“What kind of draconian bullshit is that?” Katie demands.

I twist a strand of hair that’s fallen from my ponytail. “I know, but it’s Gramps. I owe him, and you know it. I didn’t go into the business, and it’s a way to pay him back, to save his company. I owe him that.”

She takes a swallow of her margarita and sets it down. “You don’t. He’d be horrified to know you think you owe him.”

I nod. “But still…”

“Ari,” Katie says, “you don’t need to save everyone or everything. What you need is to focus on yourself. William knows you love him, and we all know you’d make sure the company was run how your grandfather wanted it. Let this other asswipe have his tantrum. I assume he’s loaded. He’ll move on.”

But while I nod and murmur empty words of agreement, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll meet this guy, I’ll marry him. It won’t be forever, and chances are he’s not going to want to sleep with me. I’m not exactly glamorous. Or a society girl.

What I am is someone who loves her grandfather, and I’ll do anything for my family. Gramps means everything to me. He’s so supportive of everything, I think a year or two of a stupid arranged marriage won’t hurt me.

I’m single, he’ll find other women to fuck and I’ll get out of this with my grandfather’s business intact.

“You have that look on your face,” she says over one of the songs from Wicked, “so I know you’re agreeing with me, but you’re going to do this anyway.”

I blow out a breath. “It’s the least I can do.”

“What about you?” she demands. “What do you want?”

“My feelings are irrelevant.” I wrinkle my nose at her. “I’m doing this to help Gramps.”

“And I can’t change your mind.”

I stare her down. “When have you ever changed my mind?”

She pretends to think about it. “Last Wednesday in this dream I had.”

“See,” I say, “I’m betting I won out in that dream, too.”

“My alarm woke me.” Then she turns serious. “Are you sure?”

“Sure.”

She taps her hand on the bar and then says, “He’s rich, right?”

“Loaded.”

“Maybe he’s ugly or gay?”

“And how shallow are you?” I ask.

She waves the bartender down. “Another round, we’re celebrating.” She puts her card on the bar, and before I can say anything he prepares the drinks.

I take a final sip of my rum and coke and Katie clinks our fresh glasses together. “To your upcoming nuptials.”

“I’m not carrying you home again.”

She sets her drink down with a shudder. “This is my limit tonight, trust me. But come on, what’s his angle, do you think? A wallflower? I still say gay might be on the cards. I know, I know out is healthy, but… what if he’s a closet case?”

“I don’t think so,” I mutter. “Gramps said he’s a bit of a womanizer.”

“And you can tame him. Let’s plan the wedding. I’ve always wanted a big, extravagant wedding, but I’m poor and single so I’ll live vicariously through you.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that.” Besides, I’m not happy about this at all. “Gramps said Noah wants this done quickly and with as little fuss as possible. And considering I don’t particularly want to be in an arranged marriage, especially with someone like him.”

“A closeted womanizer?”

I laugh but shake my head. “And yes, I have to do it, for Gramps. But he’s not closeted anything. According to Gramps, Noah Templeton’s an arrogant playboy who used to be a nice kid until he grew a massive ego and stopped giving a shit.”

Gramps didn’t put it that way, but it’s what he meant.

But Katie grins, rubbing her hands together. “All the more reason to blow a shitload of this dude’s money on a very, very expensive designer dress.”

I look at her.

“A very, very expensive pretty dress. But you need a wedding dress, and I need a bridesmaid dress.”

I grab her face. “Katie, I haven’t even met him yet.”

“When you do, you should have a list of demands. No sex unless you want it. A weekly stipend. New clothes. And jewels. You can sell them or give them to me. But, most importantly, you need, for your low-fuss wedding a dress on him, as well as your bridesmaid’s kit.”

I half laugh and groan, letting her go as I down some of my drink. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” she says, “but a genius. Do it. C’mon, it’ll be cathartic.”

“Oh god, Katie.” I shake my head, grinning. “I’ll think about it. But remember, I haven’t met the guy yet.”