But this changes everything.
She sniffed, wiping tears from her cheeks, but a new wave overcame her as she settled on another truth: if Connall had asked her to marry her sometime in the next three weeks, she probably would have said yes. And if he’d suggested a fast wedding, she wouldn’t have thought twice. Because that’s just how Connall lived: going after what he wanted.
And he would have duped you more than you could have imagined.
Tears dripped onto the papers, and she wiped them away hastily. The trickery hurt so much more because she’d been so sure about him. Their lifestyles might have needed tweaking, but Connall as a companion had just felt right.
But thank God she’d found out in time…before making the biggest mistake of her life.
12
Connall rushed around his penthouse, double checking each room. Bernadette was on her way over unexpectedly; they’d planned to meet for dinner, but she wanted to stop by early. Her text had been strange—somehow distant and rushed—but now was as good a time as any for her to become familiar with his home. After all, he wanted her to fall in love with it and eventually move in.
He hadn’t completed the finishing touches yet, but hopefully she’d be able to envision it as he could: the giant spare room toward the back would be her office, and he’d recommend a wood flooring that matched the material used in the treehouse. Of course, the entire penthouse would be upgraded with fully encrypted internet, worthy of protecting her research, and even satellite communications with the sanctuary. Live feeds and whatnot. And if she was interested, he could install satellite linked television screens in almost every room of the penthouse, so she could see those wolves whenever she wanted.
The possibilities were endless when it came to modifying his living space to accommodate her. Just as long as it wasn’t Montana.
Three curt knocks sounded on his door, and he raced to open it, heart beating like a rabbit’s. When he pulled it open, Bernadette looked less than thrilled to see him. And she wasn’t at all dressed for their fancy dinner out.
“Hey.” He held the door open, smiling. “Come in, love. It’s time for the grand tour.”
Bernadette traced her bottom lip with her tongue, her eyes on the ground. “Don’t call me that. I’m not coming in. I just came to give you something.”
Her tone made his stomach shrink to a nut, and suddenly, he realized: she was ending it. His sense about her strange text had been accurate.
“What…” He stepped aside, shaking his head slightly, as though this might encourage her to cross the threshold. “Come on. Come in, Bernadette. I don’t know what you’re talking about. We have dinner plans.”
She sniffed, her lips thin as she rummaged through her messenger bag, producing a folded packet of papers. “My father told me about the will. The one that your grandfather made about you and your brothers.” Her voice was eerily calm as she straightened out the papers. “The will that states you need to find a wife by three weeks from now, or else you’ll lose the company.”
Connall’s eyes fell to the papers in her hand, one word scrolling through his head like a marquee: fuck.
She looked up at him, shaking her head. “I’m not gonna be that woman, Connall. And I…hate…that you even thought you could use me like this.” Her voice wavered slightly. She shoved the papers at him. “And before you deny anything, just know that it’s all here. Every word of it. So I don’t want to hear any clever pandering or excuses.”
He gaped at her, clutching the papers to his chest. “Bernadette, what you’ve done is illegal. You shouldn’t have brought this here.”
“I don’t fucking care, okay?” She pressed a fingertip to the spot between her eyebrows. “Is it any worse than what you did, anyway? Acting like you liked me just so you could save your company?”
Her words hit him like a freight train. “That is not true.”
“I’d think that any relationship you started with this deadline looming was a little suspect,” she spat.
“Bernadette, what we have has nothing to do with my grandfather.” He tossed the papers away, and they fluttered slowly to the ground around him. “I didn’t start talking to you because I wanted a wife. I wanted you.”
She scoffed. “And why should I believe that?”
“Because it’s true!” The words burst out of him, leaving a wake of hot anger. This was absurd. This was more than absurd. She’d come to a thousand conclusions on her own and didn’t even want his side of the story.
“Well, you would have had a hard time convincing me to accept your marriage proposal,” she went on, her voice shaky. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now, but we don’t mesh. Your life and my life are as far apart as fucking Seattle and Kathmandu. Opposite ends of the world.”
“And there are ways to merge them,” Connall said, desperation clawing through him. “I have plans in place for you to resume operation of your sanctuary from here, in Seattle. We can convert the penthouse, make any modifications you see fit. And then—”
She laughed bitterly, her eyes swimming with tears. “Oh, so that’s your solution? Merging lives by me leaving mine? That’s rich.” She shook her head. “You’ll do anything to find a wife won’t you? I read about what your brothers did. Alistair was even interviewing strangers to marry him!”
“Bernadette.” His voice cracked. She’d never been so wrong about something, but her eyes betrayed a fire that he didn’t know how to put out.
“This whole thing is fucked,” she said. “I loved you. But I don’t even know who I was in love with.”
She turned on her heels and stormed away, disappearing around the corner before he could even process her words. She loves you. The first time she’d told him, but somehow he’d already known it. Because he loved her. Had since the beginning.
But love couldn’t always conquer all. And if he could ever convince her to trust him again…how would they make their lives fit together?
Connall shut the door slowly, chest drawn tight like a rubber band, ready to snap at any second.
* * *
He took the night to think things over, with plenty of whisky and loud music. Bernadette was just angry, he finally convinced himself. She’d come around.
So on Monday when he strolled back into work for the first time since beginning his Montana adventure, he had the will in one hand and a message to Bernadette open in the other. He sent the papers off to his lawyer first thing, and then finished his text: “Can we meet for lunch? I want to explain everything. You think you know the story but you don’t.”
Her response was swift. “No. Heading back to Montana now, please don’t contact again.”
The air left his body in a whoosh. He typed furiously. “Bernadette, you can’t leave things like this between us. You made up a story and ran with it. Let me tell you what really happened.”
“Last warning before being blocked,” came her response.
“I’m in love with you. None of what we feel for each other is an act. And I never had plans to propose to you within the next three weeks. That was the farthest thing from my mind. The will never factored into my decision to get to know you.”
Bernadette didn’t respond, and when he tried to send one last text a few minutes later—“I love you”—it came back as undeliverable.
Blocked.
He tossed his phone onto his desk, settling into his seat with a harrumph. He didn’t know what was more infuriating: being totally misunderstood or being blocked from becoming understood. This was all so easily resolved…if only Bernadette would listen to him.
But why should she believe you? The ugly truth of the situation sank into him like sediment in a pond. Everything is stacked against you.
Connall immersed himself in work as much as he could, conversations with his colleagues stilted and tense as he struggled to push the irritation from his mind. But he couldn’t chase it away, no matter how hard he tried. And knowing that Bernadette was probably well on her way to
Montana by now made the gut punch even worse.
He never got a chance…and now his time was up.
Connall spent the next couple of days brooding and irritable. Deb looked extra sympathetic whenever she came into the office with a message and sometimes plied him with sweets. On Wednesday evening, his lawyer called.
“This thing is a doozy,” Dale said as soon as Connall answered. “I’ve got my partners looking at this will too, and…shit.”
Connall leaned back into his office chair, his stomach tensing as if he’d just eaten something that he knew was spoiled. “This doesn’t sound promising.”
“Iron clad will,” Dale breathed. “There’s no way out of this one. We’ve tried it a hundred ways. You either marry or you lose the company.”
A long sigh escaped him. Connall pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Thanks for the final word, Dale. I appreciate it.”
He swiped off his phone, sitting in a thick silence before pushing to his feet. Restless energy prompted him to get the fuck out of the office, but he didn’t know where to go or what he even wanted to do. He just needed to move.
He gave a curt goodbye to Deb before locking up his office and then breezed out of the building. In the parking lot, he continued past his car, his legs unable to stop.
So he walked. And walked. All while his mind roiled with possibilities, laments, wonderings, and more. What if he’d mentioned the will to Bernadette on his own terms…would she have reacted the same way? Should he find a real wife of convenience, his last ditch effort to save his company and all his dedicated employees? But what about Bernadette…could it really be over between them?
Nothing made sense, and nothing felt clear. The only thing he truly knew, down to his bones, was that he wanted Bernadette. Despite all reason, despite all obstacles.
Her reaction to his suggestion about moving in still stung. Merging lives by me leaving mine? That’s rich. He could still hear the derision in her voice, and it had lurked in the back of his mind since she’d said it. Reminding him of the sad truth: maybe their lives couldn’t mesh. They were as far opposite as Seattle and Kathmandu. Why had he ever thought she’d be content simply giving up her existence to move into his comfortable, controlled penthouse in West Seattle?
Bernadette didn’t operate by his rules, and his rules were simple: do everything possible to protect the ones he cared about. So this was a stalemate. A dead end. An affair that would end with a sigh and broken heart.
Connall buried his hands in his pockets, dodging through a wide group of pedestrians as he came up on a little shopping area. Through the store windows, an animal shelter gleamed: bright lights, wide-eyed puppies and grown cats, posters beckoning passersby to adopt a pet in need. He paused in front of the doors, something tugging him closer.
A pet. That was what he needed. Something to help him feel closer to Bernadette while he mourned her loss. Something to keep her near, even as he fought to let her go.
He would adopt a dog.
Connall pushed into the shelter, his body buzzing with the new decision. It made sense, somehow, and felt right. She might even suggest it herself.
Inside, a perky volunteer greeted him. He blurted, “I need to adopt a dog. One that looks as much like a wolf as possible.” He paused. “With a preference for an actual wolf.”
“Ooookay.” Her face lit up, and she guided him into the back of the shelter. Barks echoed off the walls. “We’re not allowed to take in wolves, but we do have litter of husky mixes who needs a forever home. They look slightly wolfish.” She sashayed down a long row of dog cages, spacious and full of toys. Puppies and dogs of all breeds and colors rolled around, yipping and gnawing. She stopped in front of a particularly large run, gesturing at some puppies inside who resembled wolves, but also balls of fluff. “But really, all modern dogs are descendants of wolves. Here they are!”
He knelt down, eyeing the dogs. Each pup had brilliantly clear eyes; some even had two differently colored eyes. Gray tufty fur, or black with white streaks. The tawny coated dog stood out the most, looking up at him with sad, blue eyes.
I understand you, pupper. You’ve been separated from the woman you love.
“That one.” He pointed toward the tawny pup, and the clerk scooped it into her arms.
“Congratulations, it’s a boy!” She grinned as she passed the puppy to him. They both climbed to their feet. Connall smiled down at the trembling pup, who looked up at him with a heartbreaking innocence.
This was the start of a new journey together. And this time, he wouldn’t lose his trusted companion.
13
The next two weeks passed in a sleepy haze. Owning a dog was a new task for him, one that absolutely nobody had prepared him for. To date, little Harry—the nickname for Harold the Wolf Beaumont—had destroyed two pairs of slippers, a set of work shoes, one of his speakers, and four pairs of underwear. None of it was irreplaceable, but getting the dog to stop chewing and barking all night was the real problem.
Nothing that worked with humans worked with dogs. And when Connall realized this, he signed up for puppy training classes. Still, the education seemed to improve the situation only slightly. Just when it seemed like they’d made progress, another pair of briefs ended up shredded in the daylight.
Connall tried a puppy nanny at first, but soon decided that bringing the pup to work might ease some of the attachment issues.
“What is this, Bring Your Puppy To Work Day?” Deb giggled and approached Connall with her arms out to hold him. He passed Harry off, watching as she cooed and petted him.
“He’s a handful,” Connall said. “I wanted to keep an eye on him today while I was at work. Just while we’re training.”
“But he’s such a doll.” She cradled him against her chest, following Connall into his office. “You should bring him every day.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Connall set down the puppy items in a chair facing his desk: the leash, the poop bags, his color-coordinated water and food dishes. “We’ll see how he behaves.”
Deb bounced in the corner with Harry in her arms while Connall slid into his seat, checking messages. First order of business was to call Dale, who answered on the first ring.
“Connall, friend.” The greeting made Connall’s stomach plummet. Whenever he tried to be extra friendly, it meant things were tense.
“Dale. I got your message to call. Everything okay?”
“Sure, as okay as they can be. You have one week until this Rowland guy executes your grandfather’s will. And once he does, B3 Engines is at risk of a hostile takeover. Are you prepared?”
Connall sighed, watching as Deb set Harry down before she hurried out to her desk to answer the ringing phone. Harry sniffed around, acquainting himself with the new surroundings, his little tail wagging as he explored. “No. But I don’t know what else to do at this point. It’s too late.”
“Find a wife!”
Connall’s head hung. But if he found a wife, then he’d really be closing the door on Bernadette. He couldn’t imagine she’d be very interested in pursuing a relationship with him after ending his marriage of convenience.
“My grandmother will never believe it,” Connall said with a sigh. “Besides…” He pinched his eyes shut, unsure if he wanted to bring up Bernadette. Avoiding a sham marriage in the name of true love rang hollow in the face of losing his entire business and leaving hundreds of people unemployed. “I don’t have anyone to ask.”
“I spoke with your brother Gregor,” Dale said. Connall rolled his eyes—Gregor was firmly on board the train with a destination of sham marriage. He’d been pressuring Connall to shack up with someone, anyone, for months now. “He said your last girlfriend might fit the bill. She’s discreet enough not to out you, at least, is what he said. What do you say? Give it a whirl?”
Connall leapt to his feet when Harry started circling a patch of carpet near the far windows. That was his pre-peeing dance; he knew it well. “Deb! Can you come here?”
“Just give it some thought,” Dale insisted.
Deb poked her head in, gaze falling to the pup. “Yes?”
“Can you take Harry outside?” Connall scooped up the dog, passing him off quickly. “He has to go do his business. Quickly now.”
Deb rushed away, and Connall massaged his face.
“Everything okay over there? Sounds like Harry has a problem,” Dale said.
“Harry is my new dog,” Connall said, resting his hand on his hip. “Potty training is a bitch.”
“Well. Glad that’s cleared up. Now, what about this ex?”
Connall sighed. “I’ll call her. But I’m telling you—this is a pipe dream. Even if she agrees to it, we run the risk of my grandmother seeing right through it.”
“It’s better than not having tried,” Dale said.
The two said their goodbyes, and Connall stared out the window at the Seattle skyline, mulling over his options. From a purely business standpoint…it was worth a shot. If he called up an ex, he might be able to convince his grandmother. Rekindled romance, second chances, all that jazz. It could work.
But if you do this…Bernadette will never be yours.
This threat hung heavily on him. Sure, he was already facing a mostly null chance of winning her back. But there was still the possibility.
He’d been sending her emails every other day. She hadn’t responded yet, but these things took time. She might respond someday, or maybe she’d just show up on his doorstep out of the blue. Patience was his friend with these matters. And he had faith.
Connall flipped his phone over in his hands almost a hundred times before he opened the contact list. He still had Jennifer’s number in his phone, the ex who Gregor and Dale wanted him to call up. He stared at it for a moment before pressing Call.
The Beaumont Brothers: The Complete Series Page 28