by Cora Bell
“Do we have an agreement?” she amended.
“Of course.”
She gave me the information as I was walking out the door. I told Mrs. Claybourne she could leave early but to keep her phone on in case I needed anything.
My driver took me directly to the hospital, where I was able to use some pull and charm to find out what Mrs. Davis’s diagnosis was. And it was serious. She needed an operation she’d been putting off—I could only assume it was because she couldn’t afford it.
I detoured at the gift shop to purchase flowers and a ridiculous stuffed animal meant for Mrs. Davis but one I hoped would make Isabelle smile. A dog, since I knew she liked animals.
When I reached the room, I opened the door slowly. I paused when I saw Isabelle sitting beside her mother’s bed, cheek on the covers, and eyes closed. Mrs. Davis stroked her daughter’s hair, holding her finger over her lips when she saw me.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“A friend.” It was a stretch, but good enough for now. I held up the flowers. “For you.”
“I’m assuming you mean a friend of Isabelle’s.” She gestured to the table in the corner. “They’re beautiful. Can you put them there, please?”
I nodded and set the flowers on the table, settling the stuffed animal beside it as well. Isabelle shifted, murmuring something soft in her sleep.
God, she looked exhausted. So did her mom.
Fuck, this was bad. This woman needed an operation. Isabelle needed good news in her life. And I’d been stuck on finding a wife so I could inherit the family business. It made me feel like an asshole.
And it made me realize that both Mrs. Claybourne and Rebecca Morris were right. I needed to keep my mouth shut about the job and I needed to do some good, old-fashioned wooing. Starting with taking care of the woman I planned to marry.
I glanced around the room and spotted a fold-out bed, made up haphazardly with white hospital sheets. Isabelle’s bed, no doubt. I figured she probably hadn’t left her mother’s side in two days.
“Has she been here with you the whole time?” I asked.
Mrs. Davis sighed, closing her eyes briefly. “Since I was admitted two nights ago. I keep telling her to go home, get some rest, but she won’t leave my side. I think this is the first time she’s slept more than thirty minutes—probably couldn’t stay awake anymore.”
My heart clutched. Nearly two days without sleep, she probably hadn’t eaten much, and who knew what else she was dealing with.
“I’ll fix this,” I told Mrs. Davis, suddenly resolved to do whatever I could in my power to turn Isabelle’s life around.
Her eyes narrowed on me. It had been a long time since I’d felt so exposed, so under the microscope.
My life didn’t work this way. I was in charge—always. The only thing I hadn’t been able to get right the first time was acquiring the family business, and I half suspected that was my mother’s doing. She wanted me to have a life, a family, instead of letting work dominate me like it had with my father. So my dad had set these conditions. No company until I was married.
But I’d even found a way around that.
Or so I’d thought.
“I don’t know you,” Mrs. Davis said.
“I promise,” I told her, something resembling steel in my voice. “I’ll fix this. For both of you.”
She glanced down with a tired sigh, then stroked her hand over Isabelle’s head again. “I don’t think she’s ever kept anything from me before. But she never told me about you.”
My jaw clenched. That was because there was nothing to tell. I was nothing to Isabelle except for a hitch in her day. And that didn’t sit well with me at all.
Before I could say anything else, Mrs. Davis was saying Isabelle’s name, nudging her to wake up.
Isabelle lifted her head, eyes groggy, and murmured something I couldn’t make out. “I’m sorry, I…” But then she focused on me and sat ramrod straight. “What—what are you doing here?”
“Delivering flowers,” Mrs. Davis said, a smile in her voice despite how tired she looked.
When Isabelle looked at me again, her eyes were wide with questions. Questions she clearly didn’t want to ask in front of her mom.
Either that or she was embarrassed. She didn’t want to have to explain me, or where I’d come from. At that moment, I endeavored to deserve her—and deserve her talking about me with her mother, someone she clearly cared about more than her own well-being.
“I’ve come to give you a break,” I told her.
She blinked and glanced at her mom. “I—I don’t need a break.”
“Sure you do,” Mrs. Davis said, indicating she was on my side.
“Really.” Isabelle shot me a glare. “I’m fine where I am. In fact, I was just about ready to order your dinner.”
“It’s already taken care of,” I told Isabelle. “Everything’s already taken care of. Why don’t you let me take you home?”
Her mouth dropped open. It was endearing, really—just like in my office two days ago. It amused me how much the world surprised her sometimes. But we were from different worlds. Very little surprised me these days.
My reaction to Isabelle floored the hell out of me, though. Not pursuing something with her would probably haunt me for the rest of my life, so I didn’t want to make that mistake.
I reached down before she could protest again and lifted her by her elbow.
“Mr.—” She broke off, cheeks flushed. “Nick. You can’t—”
“Please,” Mrs. Davis said. “It’ll be good for you to get some air. And something to eat. And a shower.”
Isabelle made a noise of protest in her throat, but it was too late. I was already picturing her in the shower, her blonde hair cascading over wet shoulders, mist swirling around her smooth skin.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have offered to take her home—not her home anyway. In fact…I’d convince her to go to my place. Ideas swirled in my brain. I realized I had the upper hand here because I knew where she was coming from and I knew exactly what to do to make this easier for her.
“Come on,” I said. “No arguments.”
Mrs. Davis made it easier by waving Isabelle out. “See you later, honey.”
And that was that. I tugged a very irritated Isabelle Davis out of the room, amused at her mumbling, all the way to the limousine waiting for us outside.
But instead of getting in, she turned her ice blue eyes in my direction and let me have it.
Chapter 5
“How dare you,” I hissed, getting in his face. “You have no clue what’s going on and you just—what? Think you can swoop in and I’ll do whatever you want. You—”
Before I could blink, he whipped open the back door. “Get in.”
“What?”
“You’re making a scene. Get in and then you can yell at me.”
I looked around, surprised to find three people staring at us from the sidewalk. Cheeks flushed, I got into the back seat. Nick followed smoothly, shutting the door and instructing the driver to head to an address that definitely wasn’t my house.
“Wait—I can’t—what the hell?” I reached for the door handle, but Nick smoothly grabbed my hand.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “You don’t want to hurt yourself.”
“Hurt myself? You can’t just—let go!”
I tried to pull away, but he only held my hand tighter, smooth fingers trapping mine in his. “I can do whatever I want, and what I want right now is for you to calm down so I can explain.”
“Explain why you’re such an ass?”
His lips twitched, which just infuriated me further. “Why it makes sense for you to take a break. Take care of yourself.”
I focused on my breathing, trying to stay calm. I knew most of my anger was coming from dead exhaustion and the need to yell at something or someone for the injustices of the world, but still. Nicholas Holden was way too cocky for his own good and it was time someone knocked him down a f
ew notches.
“I honestly don’t care about your explanation,” I told him, relaxing enough that I hoped he’d release me.
Instead of a snarky comment, his expression went serious. “Your mom’s sick. Really sick.”
My breath caught. “I know,” I said, hating the slight tremble to my voice.
“I know you’re going to say it wasn’t my place, but I talked with the doctors and they’re planning on a few more tests. She needs surgery right away.”
It felt like the air wasn’t reaching my lungs. I took a few more shaky breaths and realized Nick had switched his grip so his fingers linked with mine.
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Let it out.”
I tried to glare at him, but it didn’t work. I was just too tired. “It’s bad,” I said, my voice hitching.
“I know.”
“So bad,” I whispered. And then the first tear dripped down my cheek.
“Oh, baby.” Nick released my hand to haul me into his lap.
A gasp lodged in my throat, followed by a sob. And then I was crying in earnest, tears streaming down my face while I tried desperately not to break down completely.
Nick put his arms around me and held me to his chest. At one point, he pressed a handkerchief into my hand, then just held on. I probably sat like that for a full five minutes, snuggled in his embrace as the car made twists and turns to some destination I wasn’t familiar with.
“I’m sorry,” I said, voice hitching.
“No need to apologize.”
“But—but—” I’d completely fallen apart in his arms. This man, who I was supposed to dislike—and still did somewhere in the back of my mind—was the one who was holding me together.
“It’s not wrong to have emotions, Isabelle,” he said, voice deep by my ear. It sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “It’s also not wrong to let someone else help take care of you once in a while.”
Was that what this was? Him taking care of me? It hit me then. Of course it was. He wanted a wife and I needed something in return. That was why he was here. But how could I fault him for that? He was doing what he needed to do to get what he wanted.
I was in the same position. I needed something, and I planned on getting it however I could. I wanted my mom’s surgery—she couldn’t wait any longer.
“I’ll do it,” I said abruptly.
Nick shifted in the seat, still holding me tight in his arms. “What?”
I tried to ease away from him, but he only held me tighter. “I’ll marry you.”
The look on his face would have been comical if I hadn’t still had tears dripping down my cheeks and such a heavy heart.
“Isabelle,” he said, then cleared his throat. “We don’t need to talk about this right now.”
“You’re right.” I nodded and pulled away from him. This time he let me. I returned to my seat and wiped my cheeks before straightening my shoulders. “There’s nothing else to say. I’ll sign the papers.”
I hadn’t read them through, but I knew the money would be enough for the surgery—and more. Whether I got it upfront or down the road, it didn’t matter. She’d get her surgery now and I’d figure out the rest later.
“Isabelle,” Nick said with a frown.
He looked unsure. Oh, shit. Maybe he didn’t want to marry me anymore.
I searched his face. “Did you change your mind? Is that it? I mean, I understand if you don’t want to marry me anymore—”
“No, that’s not it,” Nick snapped. When I froze, he reached for my hand, surprising me. He was always so gentle, even when his voice was made of steel. “Listen, we can talk about this later.”
“No, we—”
“Look. We’re here.”
I peered out the window as the car pulled to the side of the road. A shiny new building rose into the sky, making me gape. Of course Nick would live here. The newest, fanciest building in the city.
“Let me guess,” I whispered. “Penthouse.”
I swore he chuckled behind me. “Come on.”
I walked with him to the elevators inside and only shook my head when he pressed the button for the top floor. I couldn’t say anything, though, because right now Nick was the answer to all my problems.
Sure, I was in a sense trading my freedom for money. But it was going to save my mom’s life, and I’d trade a lot more if I had to.
“Welcome home,” Nick said when we stepped inside.
I wasn’t sure it was because he was going to accept my offer or he was just welcoming me to his home, but it felt oddly intimate. We might share this place—or was that in the contract, too? A stipulation that we wouldn’t live together since this was, after all, just business.
Shit. Maybe I should have read the contract. And talked to Becca. She’d have a better idea what I was in for. She’d know if I was getting in over my head, too. There could be all sorts of things in that contract that I hadn’t prepared for.
What if we had to consummate the marriage?
Just the thought of that had my body flushing. I instinctively glanced at Nick as he removed his jacket, already feeling a curious pulse between my legs. Would I really stoop that low? I swallowed hard. Not that it would be a hardship. I’d probably give in at the first touch.
“Isabelle?”
“Huh—what?”
His eyes narrowed on mine. “Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
But it wasn’t. Now I wasn’t just thinking about marrying Nick, I was thinking about his body beneath that fitted suit. How expert his hands must be. How nice it would be to have someone hold me, touch me, and then fill me full.
“We should sign those papers now,” I said with a firm nod. “Wait—dammit. I don’t have them with me.”
I forgot I’d shoved them at Becca in the elevator and then completely forgotten about them. What if she’d thrown them away?
“I have another copy,” Nick said, though there was something like doubt in his voice.
I couldn’t risk him changing his mind. I couldn’t risk my mom’s life. We needed to do this now before anything else got in the way.
“Great,” I said. “Should we sign them then?”
He frowned but walked to retrieve a folder off the counter by the front door. Always prepared.
I squeezed my hands into fists. Oh, God. I was really doing this.
You don’t have a choice, a voice whispered in my head.
I didn’t. And it didn’t make sense stressing about it.
When Nick walked to the table off the kitchen, I followed. Just one quick signature and I could go from there. I’d make sure my mom was taken care of. That alone would take away most of my worry.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take some time?” Nick said. “Your mom—”
“No.” I nodded. “I don’t need time. You have a pen?”
He pulled one from his pocket and passed it over. I slid the folder in my direction and then signed with a flourish on the line at the bottom.
Nick watched with narrowed eyes, eyes that were saying so much right now. Things I was curious to know about and things I was terrified to question.
But he didn’t say a word as I passed the pen back over and he signed his name next to mine.
And just like that, I was engaged to Nicholas Holden.
Chapter 6
By the next day, less than twenty-four hours after Isabelle and I signed the contract to get married, I already knew three new things about her.
One, she was the most selfless person on the planet. Two, she loved her mom more than anything in the world. And three, I was already falling for her.
That wasn’t a good thing. I hadn’t wanted Isabelle because she was sexy—though she was. And I hadn’t wanted her for my wife because she was compassionate—though she was. I’d wanted her because she didn’t like me. Because she was going to be able to be professional about this.
I didn’t doubt she’d still keep up her end of the bargain and be profes
sional, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to do my part. This was supposed to be a business arrangement and I was already fucking it all up by wanting her so badly, my body wouldn’t cooperate.
More than once I’d reached for her hand. More than once, I’d leaned in to whisper something in her ear and nearly died at how good she smelled.
I needed some time away from her. That would probably help. Maybe a talk with Chase or another cynic. Someone to remind me that lust was not love and I was just in this for the short-term.
But her mother’s surgery was today and there was no way in hell I could leave her alone to face that.
When Isabelle emerged from her bedroom bright and early, I was already at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee. I’d checked the news, eaten a small breakfast, and hidden the papers we’d signed.
It wasn’t just that I was afraid she’d change her mind; I was afraid she’d see all the stipulations in it. There were things in there that I wasn’t entirely sure I agreed with now that Isabelle was mine.
“Oh. Hey,” she said when she saw me.
“Morning,” I returned, less than thrilled with her greeting. She seemed surprised to see me. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. Absolutely. I’m just ready to get going and I figured you’d already be at work or…wherever else you needed to be.”
She stopped on the other side of the counter. Her eyes looked better. They were clear instead of rimmed in red, and even the way she carried herself looked better. Less defeated. The moment we’d signed the papers, she’d wanted to return to the hospital to talk to the doctors.
It had taken some convincing, but I’d managed to get her to take a breath first and then take a shower. I was pretty sure she’d only agreed because she was afraid I’d change my mind about signing the contract.
I couldn’t blame her. I was waiting for her to change her mind at any moment, too.
Once she was in the shower, I’d called the hospital, set up the surgery with a little extra persuasion, and made sure we were good to go for today. That way I was able to convince her to eat dinner and get a good night of sleep.
She’d argued, of course, but I’d managed to convince her she’d rather be at the hospital bright and early this morning with a good attitude for her mom than there last night with her feet dragging.