Page 3 of Desperate Vows

His penetrating gaze bored into me, and if I’d had one of my collared sweaters, I’d have been pulling at it. This man could rip the confessions out of a priest without even saying a word.

The silence dragged out until the air popped and crackled.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” There was that warm honey again. I wondered if I could get a recording and play it when I was cold. No need for a coat when this man spoke.

Working to steady my voice, I tried to remember the speech I’d prepared. “I believe I have a business proposition that could benefit us equally.”

That seemed to get his attention because he pulled his arm down and leaned forward on the table. “I’m listening.”

He was listening. I stifled a giggle. This wasn’t the time for fun, anyway. I needed to be taken seriously. “In three weeks, I turn twenty-one.”

His lips twitched. “Are you looking for a job?”

“No. I’m looking for a husband.” There. I said it. It was out and completely unscripted. All that planning and I’d just blurted it out.

Nothing. Not so much as a flinch from him. “A husband, you say?”

“Yes, but I can pay you.” I quickly added.

Eyes narrowed. He sat stone-still, waiting for me to finish.

I couldn’t hold his gaze. I wasn’t even in this man’s stratosphere in terms of attractiveness. He’d be marrying down if he took me up on my offer. As many times as it was beaten into my head, I’d be lucky if any man wanted to be saddled with me, period.

“When I turn twenty-one in three weeks, I’ll receive my trust fund from my grandparents. You can have all of it minus a small amount so that—” I clamped my lips shut.

He didn’t need to know the why. With the staggering amount of money they’d left me, taking three hundred thousand was less than insignificant. I say they left it, but it was a gift. They didn’t like Franklin and wanted me to be taken care of. I’d often wondered if they knew how much my father hated me.

“So that you what?” His head tilted ever so slightly.

“It’s not important. What’s important is the money I’ll sign over to you. My grandparents left me half a billion dollars.”

Again, the man was like carved ice. Slick, smooth, and it wasn’t water that dripped from him; it was sex and confidence. He didn’t ask for things; he took them, and I suspected those of the female variety usually thanked him for it.

My heart dropped to my toes when he eased back. I knew what he was going to say.

I was back to square one, with no chance of finding a suitable replacement.

Chapter Two

LUCAS

Marriage. No damn way.

I was going to my grave as a bachelor against my dying mom’s wish. Love and marriage weren’t in the cards for me, and I wasn’t stupid enough or hopeful enough to think differently.

Lucky for me, Mom had three additional boys who would likely give her grandchildren and maybe my sister would. Not that my mom would get to enjoy them now that she was gone. Still, it was her wish, and while I wasn’t inclined to fulfill it, my brothers didn’t seem to have my hangups.

However, the proposition gave me pause. Half a billion dollars? Financially, my family was in trouble. Of course, that was a tightly held secret. The burden on our family business had grown heavier in recent months. We’d made some tough choices three years ago, and the consequences were starting to bite. It was a daily struggle to keep the family solvent.

It was the right move, though. Mom asked, and as head of the family, I’d delivered and in less time than I’d planned. My siblings and I were cleaning up the area. At least, this was a wish I could help my siblings fulfill. Our streets would be safe for other little sisters. Another family would never bear the heartbreak of loss as we did. Not if we had anything to do with it.

What I didn’t understand was why Claire Benoit thought she needed to pay someone to marry her. I’d noticed her the moment she walked in the door, mostly because she stuck out. It wasn’t often we had the high society of the likes of a Benoit in our restaurant.

Aside from that fact, she was beautiful. The type of beauty meant for opera houses, upper-class parties, and dinners with kings and queens. Not tattooed thugs such as me. I wasn’t unattractive by any stretch, and at one point, the revolving door to my bed could’ve proven it. None of them held the air of grace and sophistication the woman across from me did.

There wasn’t a stitch of makeup on her face. Her eyes were green jewels, and her jasmine scent had wrapped around me the second I was in her gravity. Her skin looked so soft that I had to fist my hands to keep from touching her, and then back up arrived in the form of my unwitting sister. I guess I should say I was saved since I was seconds away from losing all willpower.

Claire was petite and delicate, with shapely legs. She was a flower in her soft pink billowy blouse and gray pencil skirt. No heels. I liked that. She wasn’t trying to be something she wasn’t, unlike everyone else around me.

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