Page 15 of The Unwanted Wife

"I wouldn’t go that far, but he does believe in family."

"And the decisions he makes only make him richer," I murmur.

"It also benefits family members,” he points out.

"That’s why he called me up and asked me to join the board of directors? That’s why he’s insisting I get married before he confirms me as CEO?"

"Of course, it’s good PR to show a strong, united front among family members. Not to mention, getting us to marry and settle down is one way to ensure continuity of the family line.” He lowers his chin to his chest.

“Those are not the only reasons.” I widen my stance.

Brody sighs. “Knowing how canny Arthur is, he’s probably future-proofing the business.”

I snort. “Likely, he realized it was best to bring his illegitimate grandsons under the family umbrella and give them a stake in the Davenport Group, so they wouldn’t try to tarnish the family reputation with their claims later.”

While Edward’s mother is different from mine and Brody’s, we all share a father. His only role in life seems to have been to spawn as many boys as possible, before he and Brody’s mother were killed in an accident. By all accounts, he was a weakling, unable to keep it in his pants. Not to mention, he was cowed by Arthur’s larger-than-life persona.

Edward was adopted by his uncle, our father’s older brother, who shunned all contact with Arthur. It was only after Arthur’s wife passed that Arthur became aware of Edward's and my existence. He took it upon himself to right the years of not having contact with us. He made Edward and me joint interim CEO’s—no doubt, hoping we’d compete for the role. But Edward dropped out, leaving me as the only contender for CEO of the company. If you don’t count Knox, who’s chomping at the bit. Problem is, Arthur isn’t ready to confirm me to the position of CEO until I get married. Knox is pissed off at being left out of the race, after being groomed to be Arthur’s successor all these years. And honestly, I can’t say I blame him.

"'Course, if our youngest uncle comes back, he’ll have more claim to the role of CEO of the group," I point out.

Yep, Gramps’ youngest son Quentin is estranged from him. He joined the British Secret Service and has been busy running top-secret missions for the government. He hasn’t been seen in years.

"From what I remember of him, he hates Arthur with a passion. I doubt he’s returning anytime soon." He snatches his bottle of water and chugs down several gulps. "You and Knox have a lot in common." He caps it and places it down on the floor.

"You mean, the fact he was in the Royal Marines before he was injured?" You’d have thought that would give us more common ground, but it's only served to rub Knox the wrong way. He refuses to acknowledge my past, and we certainly haven't had any chummy conversations about our service stints. I suppose, being reminded of your injuries in the line of duty every time you see your face in the mirror isn’t easy. Perhaps he wants to forget about his past and move on. I can’t blame him for that.

"Knox was close to Quentin. He looked up to his uncle, almost hero-worshipped him when he was younger. It’s why he became a marine." Brody rises to his feet, then thrusts out his arm. When I take his hand, he pulls me up.

"You’re trying to find common ground between me and your brother?" I frown.

He half smiles. "Not that I'm a fan of Arthur. But the one thing I agree with him about is that I want to see my brothers get along."

Technically, I’m their half-brother, but I don’t correct him. It’s damned inconvenient that I’m beginning to like this guy. When I set out to get to know the rest of my new family, I did it to keep up appearances. But this warmth that fills my chest, this sense of belonging that embraces me like a second skin, takes me by surprise. After my mother died, I became accustomed to being alone, to watching families from the outside as they celebrated holidays. I saw Ben’s attachment to his sister and his protectiveness toward his mother, their joint wavelength as a family unit when they were together, and realized I would never have that.

Even when my mother was alive, she was so consumed with her need to make the Davenports pay, it impacted her mental health. There were days when she’d forget to pick me up from school or not be able to get out of bed and go to work. Days when I had to be the adult in our relationship. In a way, it was almost a relief when she passed away. I only had to take care of myself after that. I hated myself for thinking that way, but I couldn’t stop it.

The few times I went home to visit Ben’s family with him, they welcomed me into their fold. It's the closest I’ve come to having a sense of connection with anyone since losing my mom. They accepted me for who I was, and the feeling of kinship I experienced with Ben is what kept me grounded.

I’ll always be grateful to him for that. I owe him for giving me a reason to not lose myself completely in the missions I ran. It would have been easy to lose perspective with the death and destruction I saw and was often responsible for in the call of duty. But Ben was good and kind, and I owe it to him that some part of me stays human and wasn’t lost completely to the emotionless mask I had to do my duty. It’s why I’ll do my best to watch out for her. To ensure her every need is taken care of. It’s how I’ll deliver on the promise I made to Ben to take care of his sister.

7

Skylar

"I’m coming!" There’s a banging on the door.

I was lucky to find this apartment above the bakery. I rented the bakery space, and the apartment came with it. It has its own separate entrance, so it provides a certain amount of privacy from the traffic to the bakery. It also means, I cut down on commute time and cost. Considering I work into the night, either experimenting on new recipes or trying to balance my books, I can stumble up to my bed and fall asleep, gaining precious extra minutes of rest.

Monday mornings are the slowest and that’s the only time I allow myself to sleep in—if you call sleeping until 7 a.m. sleeping in. I don’t open until 11 a.m. today but plan to try out some new recipes this morning in the bakery before opening shop. I glance at my phone screen and realize it’s already 7:30 a.m.. Ugh, I overslept.

I jump out of bed, pulling a robe on over my sleep shorts and camisole. Whoever's at the door bangs on it again. "Oh, for the love of Game of Thrones, I'm coming," I yell again, then reach the door, throw it open, and freeze.

His shoulders fill the doorway, and he’s so tall, the top of his head grazes the door frame. It’s not that the entrance is narrow, either. He’s just a big man. He grips the door jamb on either side and glowers at me. "The lock on the main door leading to your apartment from the street is broken."

"Good morning to you, too," I drawl at the very irate looking Nathan.

"Did you hear what I said?" His eyebrows draw down further. His eyes flash with anger—what a surprise—and something more. Fear? On my behalf?

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