by Maisey Yates
Now the older man would know what it was like to feel desperate, to have to depend on the whims of someone else. What it was like to have his power stripped from him.
Men like him didn’t deserve such absolute power.
“I’m offering you a very simple solution, Vanessa.”
“Oh, yes, simple. In what world is marriage the simple solution?”
“In this world. Alliances are made by advantageous marriages, it happens every single day. You admitted it is already in your future.”
“Nothing was finalized. I believe marriage should be about love.”
She looked so sincere when she said it, brown eyes liquid in the dim light. What would Vanessa Pickett know about love? No more than he did.
“Romanticizing an institution has always seemed pointless to me.”
Vanessa swallowed hard, her heart thundering, the pulse in her neck fluttering. “You don’t seem the type to romanticize anything.”
She knew that about him. Had known it the moment kissing had turned into more and he’d produced a condom rather than words of love. Ironic that her very first marriage proposal was from him, twelve years after she’d been hoping to hear it. Of course, there was still no mention of love.
She’d been a romantic then, with all of her heart and not just a piece of it. And she’d learned, at Lazaro’s hands, that blind naïveté didn’t protect you from cold reality.
And what she had now was cold reality at its finest. A dying business, one that was under her control, the very real danger of losing that control. Worse, of losing the entire company to bankruptcy along with any respect she’d managed to gain from her father. She would be the one to destroy a family legacy that had stood for one hundred years. She was so close to losing absolutely everything, having nothing but a cold, arranged marriage waiting for her when the dust settled.
She also had an out in the form of Lazaro Marino. A deal with the devil, and it would only cost her soul. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. But from where she was standing, it must look a lot that way. A dark, handsome devil, sure, but the devil nonetheless. And it was truly an exchange of one marriage of convenience for another.
Of course, for better or for worse, the arrangement with Lazaro would never be cold.
No. Impossible. She looked at him, broad shoulders, thickly muscled chest, trim waist and hips. He had a body most women would pay money to get their hands on, and the face of a fallen angel. Perfectly handsome, but with that hint of danger provided by his slightly bent nose and dark stubble. Stubble that would feel rough against her hands, her cheek …
“It isn’t as though we would marry immediately,” he said, his deep voice breaking through her fantasy.
“We wouldn’t?” A stupid response, as though she’d agreed to something when she hadn’t done any such thing.
“No. It takes time to plan a wedding. Especially of the calibre I have in mind.”
“Oh, you’ve thought about this?” For some reason that made her stomach tighten.
“Not in a specific sense. But there are certain things expected from a society wedding.” His lips curved up into a smile. A smile that lacked humor and warmth. It made her shiver.
She’d never wanted a huge wedding. She’d seen that circus one too many times. Had been a part of it for family friends. Those weddings were impersonal, affairs for the guests and not for the couple, and she’d always found them disingenuous. Although, she was certain, the choice would have been taken from her when the time came with Craig. A big, three ring circus of a wedding, befitting the alliance between the Picketts and the Freemans. The thought made her slightly dizzy. She hadn’t given a lot of thought to that eventual union, but all this wedding talk was forcing it to the forefront, making her face something she’d been dutifully ignoring for years.
It had been a foolish thing, keeping that corner of her heart reserved for romantic fantasy. There had never been a hope for that in her future. Never. Lazaro’s appearance didn’t alter that, it just altered the groom. Craig, with his pale, angelic looks, was after her for the connections she would provide, and Lazaro, dark and dangerous, wanted the same. Neither man offered her love. Lazaro, at least, would help her hold on to Pickett Industries.
“And what do you intend to do with me until the wedding?”
He smiled again, and this time it touched his eyes, lighting a spark in their depths. Heat. She knew the look. She’d been on the receiving end of it before. And it was no less devastating to her at twenty-eight than it had been to her at sixteen.
He extended his hand, his open palm cupping her cheek, and heat spread through her, making her knees feel shaky, her breasts heavy. How long had it been since she’d been so close to a man? And how long had it been since one had made her feel like this? The very few times she’d come into contact with Craig she hadn’t felt even the slightest twinge of electricity.
“I’ll spend that time seducing my future wife,” he said, his voice husky, the remnants of his accent clinging to the syllables, making each word sound like a sensual caress.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight and dry as though it had been lined with sandpaper. He was talking about seduction. Sex. It took her right back to that moment, the moment when he’d made it clear that sex was on his agenda for the night, his hand in his pocket, reaching for a condom. She’d been tempted then too, but … she’d loved him then. Or something. She’d been sixteen and sixteen-year-old girls were given to the dramatic when it came to matters of the heart.
That romantic part of herself had always hoped against hope that the man she gave her body to would be a man who loved her desperately, a man she felt the same way about.
It wasn’t that that made her want to hold back from Lazaro though. It was the fact that he seemed to command some sort of power over her body, that he could get her hot just by looking at her. He robbed her of all the steely control no other man had ever been able to crack.
That was scarier than anything. That was something she had to master because she was not allowing him to have that kind of hold over her. Not when he already had so much power.
“I’m not just going to jump into bed with you. I don’t even know you.”
“Sometimes that adds to the fun, Vanessa.”
The way he said it, his rich, accented voice caressing the words, made her almost believe it. Made her wonder if love was overrated. “That’s not how I see things, Lazaro,” she said, her throat so constricted she could hardly force the words out.
“Relax. The courtship will be for the benefit of the media and my future clients. What better than a grand love story to keep everyone fascinated?”
“I don’t know if any of my father’s friends are old romantics.”
“Perhaps not. But the more genuine it looks, the better. It’s essential that it look real.”
“I don’t know …”
“What is it you don’t know, Vanessa? Whether you want to embrace success or failure?”
“Why does it have to be marriage?” she asked. “Why can’t …”
“Why can’t I simply hand you the solution? Why can’t I give you the knowledge and help that Pickett Industries cannot afford? Because that’s what your father, your family would do for others?”
“That isn’t …”
“Nothing in life is free, Vanessa. Nothing.”
“I know that,” she said, her voice fading. She did know it. She knew the cost of duty over desire better than he realized. Pickett Industries wasn’t her dream; Craig Freeman had never been her dream. But running the company, marrying Craig, were what she was supposed to do. This was her duty to her father, to Thomas’s memory. And duty was something she’d embraced rather than turning away from. It had taken strength to do that, to deny whatever else she might want in order to preserve her father’s respect for her. In order to preserve the Pickett family legacy.
“These are my terms, you can take them or leave them.”
Vanessa felt as though t
he world had just rocked beneath her feet. But it hadn’t; the paper lanterns above her head were still steady, the people around them were still talking, unaware that her life was crumbling around her, that everything she had always believed about herself lay in ashes before her.
She’d never thought she would stoop so low. Had never thought she would be the one willing to do whatever it took for the sake of money and power. And maybe if it were only money and power she wouldn’t. Regardless of what Lazaro said, this did seem different from the friendly, family-made arrangement she had with Craig. This seemed mercenary. It seemed … It felt in some ways that she was selling herself. Her body.
But this was her reputation. It was all she had worked for. It was her relationship with the only family she had. If she didn’t have that, she would have nothing. Breaking the unofficial engagement with Craig was one thing, losing Pickett, letting it fall into someone else’s hands … that her father would never forgive her for. And she would never forgive herself.
She couldn’t face that. And it was time to step up. To do what she’d been doing all her life—make the choice that would best benefit her family legacy and all of the employees who depended on her family for their paychecks.
“I’ll take them.” Her words sounded flat and harsh in the silent night air.
“A very wise choice, Vanessa.” Lazaro’s expression didn’t change, his eyes remained flat and dark, latent heat smoldering there, his square jaw still set firmly. But she could feel a change in him, a subtle shift in the energy radiating from him. It resonated in her, caused a response she couldn’t ignore or deny.
She looked at the cool, hard man standing in front of her. To him, this was business. Another way for him to climb to the top. She just had to see it the same way. She couldn’t afford to involve her heart.
“I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” she asked.
“Not one that had a better outcome. And you’re a smart woman. You know that the end result is all that matters.”
She wanted to be that woman. She tried to be that woman. Because that was the woman who was going to pull Pickett out of the red.
“Pickett Industries is all that matters,” she said slowly, feeling the virtual shackles tightening on her wrists even as she spoke the words.
CHAPTER THREE
SURREAL didn’t even begin to describe it. Waking up and realizing she had consented to marry Lazaro Marino the night before was surreal on an epic scale worthy of Salvador Dali. Given the state of things, she wouldn’t have been shocked to see her clock melt off the wall.
But, as surreal as it was, it was her new reality. Nonetheless she couldn’t make it feel real. She felt as if she was in a fog that not even driving to work through Boston’s harrowing traffic could shake her out of. And when she sat down at her desk it didn’t get any better.
It was early, the sun rising pink against the skyline of the city. Vanessa picked up her smartphone and snapped a picture. It was muted, nothing like it would have been if it had been done with an actual camera, something she’d never bothered to buy for herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford one, but she didn’t have time to indulge in any hobby that didn’t directly benefit her company.
She would have even less time as CEO of Pickett Industries and fiancée to Lazaro Marino. She looked at her left hand. It was bare, no engagement ring. But there would be one, she had no doubt about that. Lazaro was a man of details and a detail like that wouldn’t be overlooked.
She leaned forward and rested her forehead on the cool wood of her desk. How had she gotten so deep into a life that she didn’t want? She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to halt the tears that were starting to form.
She’d made her choice. Long before Lazaro had walked back into her life, she’d made her choice to do what she had to do to keep Pickett Industries in the family. She’d gone to college and majored in business so she could see that that happened, and that she did the best job she could. She’d chosen to put everything personal on hold in order to keep the business afloat.
It was just a part of her duty to Pickett. It felt like more though.
A strange bubble of exhilaration filled her chest because suddenly her future was different. The man standing at the altar in her mind was no longer Craig Freeman; it was the one man who had inspired a kind of reckless abandon in her. The one man who’d made her want to break the rules.
By marrying him, she was both toeing the line and rebelling against it.
That was liberating in some ways, terrifying in others. And what she really wanted to do—hide under her desk until the storm blew over—was impossible because she had to keep it together. She was the CEO of Pickett. She couldn’t question her decisions, and she couldn’t hide from the hard stuff.
The choice was made. There was no going back. She was committed.
“And possibly in need of being committed, since you’re clearly certifiable,” she mumbled into the emptiness of her office.
There was the small matter of telling her father that she would not be following his “advice” and pursuing a marriage with Craig. And that Lazaro was the one she was choosing instead. His wrath would be monumental. But she was between a serious rock and a hard place, and the broken marriage agreement, such as it was, would be much more forgivable than the loss of the family legacy.
A sharp knock on her office door had her lifting her head quickly, smoothing her hair. “Yes?”
The door swung open and her heart dropped into her stomach. Whether it had been twelve years or twelve hours, Lazaro still had all the power to make her body hot and achy, to make her lips tingle with the desire to feel his kiss.
“Good morning,” he said, coming in without waiting for her permission. She doubted he ever waited for permission to do anything.
“Not especially. What brings you here?”
“I couldn’t stay away from my beautiful fiancée,” he said, his blinding smile making her stomach curl tightly.
Her stupid, traitorous heart leapt back into her chest and started thundering madly, despite the dry humor in his tone. She cleared her throat. “Right. Why are you here?”
“Because there are details we need to work out.”
“Right. Details,” she said, her voice hollow.
“There will be a prenup.”
“I would hope so,” she said, fighting to keep her tone neutral while nerves tightened her throat.
She didn’t know if she could go through with it. Marry him. Live with him. Sleep with him. Let her whole life get tangled up in Lazaro.
Speak now, or forever hold your peace.
She looked at him, at the hardened line of his jaw, the glint of steel in his dark eyes. It was too late. If she went back now, he would take everything from her. Everything that made her Vanessa Pickett.
The words stuck in her tightened throat.
“I’m not counting on a lifetime of wedded bliss,” he said, his voice dry.
“You aren’t?”
“Hardly. But what I am expecting is that you will stand beside me with all the duty and conviction of a politician’s wife.”
“What exactly does that mean?” she asked, feeling dizzy all of a sudden, fighting to convey only cool composure.
“During a political scandal, no matter how vile, the politician’s wife always stands beside her husband because it is about more than marriage. It is her job. This marriage will be your job.”
“Planning on creating a vile scandal, are you?” She treated him to her deadliest glare. He seemed entirely unaffected.
“Not in the least. But my point is that no matter what, your commitment to our union must outweigh the circumstances. If at some point we are leading separate lives it is of no concern to me, so long as appearances show a united couple.”
She’d been wrong about him being the friendlier option to her arrangement with Craig. As little as marriage with Craig had been truly discussed, she’d assumed he would at least try to be a
husband to her. Lazaro wasn’t promising that. Not even close.
“Does that mean that even if you cheat on me I have to stay with you?”
“As I will stay with you,” he said, his voice hard. “The union, the legal marriage, is what I need. I cannot project thirty years into the future, but I will ensure that you are still with me.”
Vanessa was having a hard time breathing. It was as though he’d turned over her solid wood desk and placed it on her chest. Thirty years. This wasn’t a temporary arrangement. He was talking about the rest of her life. Shackled to this man.
She tried to imagine turning away again. Imagined telling him the deal was off, and he could take his shares and the entirety of Pickett Industries to hell with him for all she cared.
But she couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. They wouldn’t even form in her brain in a cohesive manner. The idea of Lazaro losing his hold on her didn’t open up a wide arena of possibilities for her life, rather, it showed just how narrow her scope of options truly was. Without Lazaro, the company crumbled. Without the company she had no job, no relationship with her father.
She’d promised her father, the week that Thomas died, that she wouldn’t fail him, and she’d set out to make sure she didn’t from that day on. She’d dropped out of the photography club she’d been in at school, started doing some basic business courses instead. Done whatever she could to ensure she didn’t let her father down.
In her mind, she was a Pickett. She was a loyal daughter. She was the CEO of Pickett Industries. Without that … she didn’t know who she was beyond that. And without Lazaro’s help, she wouldn’t be any of those things. Of course, it was his interference that forced her to choose. But without him, there might not be any choice at all other than to watch Pickett slowly sink beneath the waves of debt, another casualty of a shifting business landscape.
And while this might not have been her first choice for how her life would end up, it was the right thing. At least this way, she would keep the business going. She would have children who would eventually take over.