Page 11 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Bolton Steel protected a monster for decades. Continues to. The only thing that mattered was profits. Turning a blind eye to a CEO who abused women and children wasn’t even a question if it meant everyone walked away with more cash in their pockets.

Ronald’s back stiffens. “What about the eight generations of your family who have worked there, who have pushed it to the top? Bolton Steel is the single biggest steel manufacturer in the United States, but only because your family worked fucking hard for it. You want all that to go away, or do you want to figure out a way to maintain it?”

For the last fifteen years, I’ve stayed up on this mountain, thinking I never wanted to go back, that I didn’t give a flying fuck about what happened to Father or Uncle Marty or anyone else who let my torture continue all those years.

I thought I didn’t want the money, and I still don’t. But, for some reason, the threat of Bolton Steel shutting down or getting bought and enveloped by another company, controlled by someone who isn’t a Bolton, makes acid climb my throat.

For so long, the importance of that family legacy was drilled into me, and despite all the ways my own blood let me down, that company is the backbone of the community. People respect it. They respect the Bolton name. They rely on it for their salaries. If we sold or closed, it could destroy the lives of a lot of families—kids I grew up with who went to work for the Boltons, never knowing why I left.

Could I really live with that?

“Let’s just say, for argument’s sake only, that I agree to help you. What would I have to do?”

Ronald swallows thickly, averting his gaze slightly to some unknown spot on the table. “You would likely have to testify against your uncle in open court.”

I flinch and squeeze my eyes closed. “And…”

There doesn’t need to be an “and.” The thought of publicly talking about what he did to me for my entire childhood is enough to make me want to scream, “No!” immediately.

“Well?” Ronald takes a sip of his coffee, and Whiskey rests his head against my thigh, offering me comfort against my growing unease. “The terms of the trust…”

“What are they?”

He hesitates a moment, almost like he’s reconsidering asking me to do this. “You won’t be able to take over your role as co-CEO of Bolton Steel unless you’re married.”

Married.

The word rings in my ears, and I shake my head to clear it. “Excuse me? I must have misheard you.”

“You didn’t.” A muscle in his clenched jaw tics. “Your father wanted to ensure that you were at a point in your life where you were stable before you took over.” He holds up a hand when I start to interrupt him. “Obviously, he had anticipated you becoming a playboy like he and your uncle were. He didn’t want you running around with various women and hookers and all the shit they got into. He wanted you to be an established family man so Bolton Steel would look good and have a more secure future. So, he put the provision in the trust. From the date of his death…”—he pauses for a second—“which, for what it’s worth, was two days ago, you have exactly thirty days to get married.”

“No.” I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly. “No fucking way.”

My adamant rejection of the idea doesn’t seem to deter him.

“And, in order to maintain your leadership role within the company, you must remain married, living together under the same roof, no separate lives. The moment you separate, you lose your stake in the company.”

The sheer audacity of the absurd requirements makes me laugh. “This is some sort of fucking joke, right?”

He shakes his head. “Unfortunately…no. Your father made sure the trust was ironclad.”

“So, what you’re saying is I have twenty-eight days to find someone who will marry me, actuallygetmarried, then we need tostaymarried indefinitely.”

Nodding, he finishes his coffee. “That pretty much sums it up.”

I snort and shake my head. “Then you’re out of luck. You’re going to have to find another way.”

“There isn’t any other way. And, really, you don’t even have twenty-eight days.”

“What do you mean?”

He runs a hand back through his silver hair. “Your uncle called for an emergency board meeting in two weeks. If you aren’t there, and this issue hasn’t been taken care of already, I’m worried about what he’ll do. The moves he’ll make. He believes you were removed from the trust, and since no one has seen or heard from you in fifteen years, he would have a very strong argument that despite the old terms still being there, that you have renounced any claim, leaving him in full control as sole CEO. A court could rule in his favor if it got that far.”

My stomach drops. “Especially one where he owns the judge.”

Ronald smirks. “I wasn’t going to say it, but yes.”

---