Save Me, Daddy

by Jess Bentley

I nod tightly, my anxiety increasing by the moment. I want to run back to my summer job where Jayson is just an object of desire, not someone tasked with bringing me bad news.

  Jayson offers his first smile of the day—a weak, half-hearted curl of the lips. “It drove Dmitri crazy, but Mitch continued to refuse his offers.”

  “What’s the bottom line?” I can’t take not knowing. Just say it, Jayson.

  “I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you, but you’re penniless. Mitch died with everything leveraged, including your family home. He’d borrowed everything possible from his life insurance policy and still owes a substantial amount to creditors.”

  I blink, unable to fully process what Jayson is saying. I may understand the words, but I can’t yet figure how they affect me. How will my life change? I already lost my father. It seems impossible that things could get any worse. I barely have any money left over from working in the summer.

  “Dmitri would never forgive me if I didn’t settle your father’s accounts and provide for you.”

  Instinctively, I shake my head. “I can’t accept that. Dad wouldn’t want me to take charity.”

  Jayson sighs, leaning back in his chair. He rubs the bridge of his nose again. “It wouldn’t be charity. I have a business proposition—of sorts—for you to consider.”

  What kind of business could I assist with? I’m only a sophomore in college, studying botany, for crying out loud. Sure, a summer job is one thing, but I’m hardly qualified to work for the Satyros Corporation in earnest. Imports and exports? I’d be utterly lost. “What possible use could I be?”

  “Sophie is gutted, as you can imagine.”

  I feel a sharp pang in my chest. “How is she?” How could I have forgotten to ask about Dmitri’s daughter? So thoughtless. Being so lost in my own grief is no excuse. We’re all going through it.

  “Physically, the doctors expect Sophie to make a full recovery.” Jayson grimaces. “However, I am not so confident about her mental state. She still doesn’t seem to fully grasp her father’s death.”

  “That’s understandable.” I can relate. I’m nowhere near accepting my own father’s passing. It still seems like he’s going to come around the corner, rub my shoulder and ask me what I want for dinner. But, it’s been less than a week, and I know it will take time—for both me and Sophie. But where will she go? “What happens to Sophie now?”

  “There is an aging aunt in Greece who will look after her, but Sophie is begging me not to send her away. Her life is here in New York, and she knows nothing of our homeland, aside from vacations spent on Trini Island and occasional visits to Greece.” Jayson leans forward, folding his hands together. “As such, I have agreed to keep her here, with me.”

  I nod. “That sounds like the best solution. She’s already lost so much. It wouldn’t be fair to make her lose everything else.”

  “I’m pleased you agree.” A strange expression lights his face. It sends a shiver down my spine, though I can’t say why.

  “Back to my business proposition,” he says briskly. “I want you to marry me.”

  I gasp. “Are you insane?” Jayson proposing marriage is almost as big a bombshell as Dad’s death. He’s the man I dream about, not a man I actually marry.

  “Probably,” he says with a hint of tiredness. “Yet, I see no other option.”

  “I don’t need you to take care of me, especially not by marrying me.” Briefly, I entertain the idea of what I might have said if Jayson proposed in other circumstances. Considering up till now he’s barely known that I’m alive, there would never be any other circumstances besides these improbable ones.

  “It isn’t to take care of you, Harper. Well, I suppose it is in some ways. You’ll be well provided for, and I’ll make sure you have a more than generous settlement when we divorce.”

  My eyes narrow. “I haven’t even agreed to marry you, and you’re already discussing getting a divorce?”

  Jayson sighs. “Here’s the thing: I’m proposing a temporary arrangement, Harper. Let me assure you, the idea of marrying someone I barely know is as strange for me as it is for you.”

  I look at him, dumbfounded. “What do you need me for? If you’re looking for a marriage of convenience, for whatever reason, I’m pretty sure you’d have a hundred candidates volunteering within an hour.” I force back a twinge of jealousy I realize I have no right to feel. But it’s true; Jayson is a hot commodity. Rich, sophisticated, and above all, incredibly sexy. He doesn’t need me.

  “I could find someone else,” he concedes, “but that wouldn’t help Sophie.”

  I stop short at the mention of his niece. “What about Sophie?”

  “She needs someone she knows to be here for her. I’ll be tied up for months trying to step in for Dmitri. I’ll have to learn his duties and start running a company I never expected to inherit. I want Sophie to have someone with her, someone who loves her as much as I do.” He leans a little closer and I catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s woody, masculine. A hint of citrus. “I know you’re fond of her, Harper. And she’s fond of you as well.”

  I nod. Sophie’s only five years younger than I am, and we became friends during the years Mitch worked for Dmitri. “Of course I am, Jayson. I’d be happy to help with Sophie.”

  He nods. “Good. I’ll sort out the arrangements. A civil service with a justice of the peace seems like it’ll be the quickest, easiest way.”

  I put up my hand. “Hang on a second here, Jayson. I didn’t agree to marry you. Why should we get married just so I can help with Sophie?”

  The intensity of his almost-black eyes makes me squirm as he stares at me. “You know that Sophie lost her mother three years ago when she had an aneurysm.” At my nod, he continues. “Of course Dmitri loved Sophie, but you know how busy he was, and when he remarried, there was even less time for her.”

  “Not to mention, Sophie didn’t get along so well with Ione,” I add ruefully. Ione was her mother Althea’s social secretary. After his first wife’s death, Dmitri hired her as his assistant, and he married her less than a year later. Ione was a beautiful young woman, and she wanted no competition from her beautiful young stepdaughter, either for Dmitri’s attention or anyone else’s. Sophie ended up at boarding school within months of the marriage.

  “In a sense, everyone Sophie loves has abandoned her. Some by choice, some by fate.” He rubs his face once more, then runs his hand through his dark hair. “I need to provide her with a strong foundation.”

  “I’m not going to leave her until she’s recovered,” I say.

  Jayson shakes his head. “No way. She needs more permanence, more security, than having just a companion could provide. Not to mention, living in my home would destroy your reputation if we aren’t married.”

  I gape at him. “Are you serious? It’s the twenty-first century. Who cares about that sort of thing?”

  “I care,” he says coldly, making me flinch. “People will think you’re my mistress, and I can’t have that. You’ll have several new duties, including taking over some of Ione’s charitable affairs. In my social circle, you won’t receive the full respect you’re due if people think you’re sleeping with me without being married.”

  I wince at his not-so-subtle reminder of the difference between our social classes. Jayson is a billionaire, and I’m just the daughter of a worker. But I can easily imagine the disapproval. The people Jayson knows are pretty self-important. “Why don’t you hire a social secretary? My school is forty minutes away. Sophie can move in with me for now, and we can reevaluate when she’s healthy.”

  Jayson stands up, coming around the huge desk to sit on it near me, until he’s far too close for comfort. “You won’t be returning to school,” he says bluntly. “Your father left you no money for tuition. Your private college is expensive, and they don’t participate in federal financial aid programs.” At my surprised look, he says, “I checked.”

  I gulp. “But… you said you would help me.”

&
nbsp; “And I will. If you help me. You be my wife for three years. Once Sophie is off to college, we will quietly divorce and go our separate ways. You can return to your schooling, or travel the world. Whatever you decide to do with the money I offer is up to you.”

  My mind whirls with confusion. It’s a crazy plan, but I can understand Jayson’s reasons. Sophie absolutely needs to come first right now, and he’s honest enough to acknowledge he can’t do it all on his own. I admire the fact that Jayson hasn’t just sent the girl to Greece, or hired a nanny to watch the fifteen-year-old, and then gone about his business.

  Still, no matter how much I’ve fantasized about him in my life, this is never how I thought my wedding would be.

  After a long moment, I nod. “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “Let’s get married,” I say with a forced smile. I never let myself even dream about any sort of real relationship with Jayson, yet here I am, about to become Kyria Jayson Satyros.

  Surreal, to say the least.

  Chapter 21

  JAYSON

  I look up from my laptop at the sound of Sophie and Harper giggling loudly. Again. How can a man get any work done with those two carrying on? I’m about to chew them out when their conversation catches my attention.

  “…has an excellent pre-med program, but they’re in Virginia. Maybe I should go to a university somewhere around New York City. William & Mary is so far away.”

  “You’ll be fine, if that’s where you decide to go,” says Harper. “Selfishly, I’d rather have you in New York, but you have to do what’s best for you no matter what anyone says.”

  “NYU has a good pre-med program too.” Sophie nibbles on her lower lip, clearly undecided. “And you? Are you going to NYU in the fall?”

  As I’m listening for Harper’s answer, I click some random keys into the search bar so she won’t know I’m eavesdropping on their conversation. “I’m not sure. I might return to Adamsville and finish my botany degree, or I could go to another school. Maybe a couple of universities around New York.” Harper shrugs. “My decision depends on your decision.”

  “Would you be happy at Adamsville?” asks Sophie. “You said it was an all-girls’ school, full of girls you don’t have anything in common with anymore.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m thinking about other options,” says Harper, ruffling Sophie’s glossy black hair.

  “Quit it,” says the girl, a hint of whining in her voice. “You know I hate when you do that.”

  I allow my attention to return to the laptop, letting their conversation fade into the background. The words on the screen blur, and I realize it’s hopeless. I can’t concentrate. I planned to finish this project before we landed on the island, so that I could fully enjoy this vacation, but the girls are so distracting.

  I snap the laptop shut and turn to stare out the window of the Satyros jet. In truth, it’s not the girls who are distracting me. It’s Harper. Harper, who is most definitely not a girl. Her body with its new soft curves, the full breasts that could so easily fit into my palm. Her messy bun, which she put up carelessly and still fell so perfectly around her face. Her flaring hips, her round ass in the soft blue jeans she wears.

  I imagine running my fingertips over the soft seams of her back pockets, as I pull her close. Maybe grip her belt and jerk it against me so she can feel how hard I am from just looking at her. Her green eyes would darken with passion just before I press my mouth to hers to taste those sinfully full, pink lips.

  I groan softly, doing my best to wipe the images from my mind. It’ll never happen. Harper will never be in my bed, because she treats me with friendly distance and nothing else.

  My wife.

  I brood about that word. It’s maddening. Sure, Harper is my wife in name only, but for months now I’ve been wondering how stupid I was for marrying her when I can’t touch her. I can pinpoint the exact night when I suddenly realized my wife was an attractive, desirable woman: we were at a party for some charity function, and she was wearing a stunning red dress. The silk caressed her curves, making me notice just how much she has changed in the three years since we were married. Harper went from an unsophisticated college girl to a polished, poised woman. My woman.

  Except she’s not my woman. Our marriage is going to end in three months. The end of summer. Sophie will head off to university, and Harper and I will go our separate ways. The whole goddamned plan was my idea, after all. We even signed a contract, to make everything official.

  What a moron I’d been.

  Harper, unsurprisingly, is preparing to move on. I’ve known for a while now. In fact it’s hard to miss, with various college catalogs appearing here and there around the apartment. She’s checking property in the boroughs, and I even watched over her shoulder one night as she surfed Craigslist and other proper furniture stores, adding different things to her wish list.

  She clearly has no doubts about ending this farce of a marriage. For me, the business deal is simply coming to a close. She fulfilled her part, and I have to do the same.

  I groan softly again, but this time it’s at the idea of letting her go. I never go back on my word, but the idea of letting Harper walk out of my life pains me. She’s my wife. And I’ve finally figured out what I wanted from her, just in time for her to become my ex-wife.

  No.

  I won’t allow it. I want her. I want the wedding night we should have had, the one I deprived us of, along with three years’ worth of lost nights.

  Somehow, I have to find a way to make Harper want to stay.

  Chapter 22

  Harper

  This is the first summer anyone from Jayson’s family came to the island since the jet crashed three years ago. It’s been even longer since I set foot on the soft, white sand of the beaches here, but it’s Sophie I worry about. On the flight to the island, she was calmer than either I or Jayson expected. The last time she’d flown that route, the plane crashed. And poor Sophie was the sole survivor.

  I’ve been trying to keep her attention focused anywhere but the travel. Being on the island has to bring back overwhelming memories. How could it be any different?

  Our conversations mostly revolve around college, because Sophie’s so excited about it. I’m excited for her too, of course. I’m happy knowing she’s not such a little girl anymore. But if I’m honest, it does hurt a little knowing I’m not needed for much longer.

  Sure, I might be too young to be Sophie’s mother, but I’ve acted the role for the past three years. Some of it has sunk in.

  The one shining light about Sophie becoming more independent is that this means the sham marriage to Jayson is coming to an end.

  Finally, I can get on with my life and build a new one. I just want to find a man to hold me in his arms at night and warm my empty bed. I might even have babies of my own, one day. The thought of that, at least, lessens the sting of Sophie growing up.

  I ignore the small voice in the back of my head that whispers a suggestion for the as-yet-unknown husband. Someone with nearly black eyes and the longest lashes ever. I turn my attention to Sophie, putting my arm around her waist. She’s too tall now for me to sling an arm around her neck like I used to do. “Are you okay?”

  Sophie nods and smiles bravely, though there are traces of sadness on her face. “I’d forgotten how beautiful the island is.”

  “Me too.” A collection of elegant, ancient buildings line the hills of the island leading up to the summit, where one villa stands alone—the Satyros home. Together, we walk across the sand from the landing strip, toward the waiting car. The villa is a couple of miles away, but even from this distance, it’s visible. Up close, it’s even more magnificent, with pale walls and a red tiled roof. The grounds are immaculate, and I can’t wait to explore it and dig my fingers into the earth. I miss the feel of soil between my fingers, though Jayson’s never been too keen about me gardening. When I asked about making a small garden at his New York home, he coldly pointed out more d
uties to keep me busy, leaving no time for such things. A few indoor houseplants in my room had to do. Succulents, a leggy pothos, and an orchid that I was waiting to bloom had to be enough.

  Sophie slides into the car first, and I go after her. A sound of surprise escapes me when Jayson sits down beside me, instead of taking the seat across from us. When he makes no move, I scoot closer to Sophie. He follows. Gritting my teeth, I tell myself the ride will be over quickly.

  The black car whisks us up the winding hill to the villa. Sophie rolls down her window and the scent of tropical flowers makes my nostrils flare. Breathing deeply, the clean, male scent of Jayson teases my nose. I turn my head away from him and lean closer to the open window. At least until I realize my butt is even closer to Jayson, and I jump back as though his touch burns. In a way, it does.

  It burns me to have him so close, infringing upon my space.

  Liar, whispers that annoying voice, which I quickly quash.

  “Would you like to hang your head out the window, Harper? Maybe let the breeze flap your tongue?” teases Jayson.

  I shoot him a glare and soon we pull up the driveway, parking in front of the villa. Jayson is the first out, and I breathe a sigh of relief that his presence isn’t tormenting me any longer. The relief is short-lived, however, because he pauses, reaching in to offer me a hand out as the driver comes around to let out Sophie. “I can manage,” I say through gritted teeth as I swing my legs out the door.

  “It’s no trouble.” He overrides my objection by grasping my hand and giving me a gentle tug. My momentum shifts, sending me sprawling forward, straight into Jayson’s arms.

  “A simple thank you would have sufficed.” His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. I’d like to think my hot glower helped make that decision.

  I jerk upright, straighten my spine, and step away from him. “Thank you for making me stumble,” I say as coldly as I can manage, then turn away from him. To my annoyance, he laughs softly.