Page 11 of Broken

“Miss Edison,” I say, and she spins around, her eyes flickering to Drake and her brother before finding mine.

She takes a few steps toward me, her hips swaying slightly with each one. “Mr. James.” Her voice is calm and clear, but I don’t miss the way her left hand curls into a tight fist at her side or the soft pink flush at the base of her neck. She offers me a soft smile, and that’s when I notice the striking green of her irises. She’s much more beautiful in person than in the pictures I saw of her.

I take a step toward her, and now we’re only a foot apart. Her breath hitches, drawing my gaze to her neck. The slender curve of her throat thickens as she swallows, and her body’s reaction to my close proximity has my pulse spiking.

“Melanie, come sit,” her brother orders, his nasally tone severing the connection between us. I’m immediately tempted to tell him to shut the fuck up and then, more importantly, to ask him who the hell he thinks he’s talking to, ordering her to sit like a dog. Until I remember that she’s not mine.

Not yet.

Chapter

Seven

MELANIE

There are so many voices talking at once, all of them speaking legal jargon that I barely understand, and my head is starting to spin. Bryce and our family lawyer talk the loudest, demanding to be heard.

I rub my temples and screw my eyes closed. When I open them again, Nathan’s dark stare greets me from across the expanse of the boardroom table. “Give us the room,” he says, and his low, commanding tone makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I hear Bryce snort, but I’m unable to tear my gaze from the man directly in front of me. “I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Bryce says, not bothering to hide the disdain in his tone. I’m not sure if it’s for me or Nathan James—probably both.

Nathan still doesn’t look at my brother when he calmly repeats himself. “Give us the room.”

In my peripheral vision, I see his brother gathering his papers from the table and pat Nathan on the back. “Let’sgive them a few moments alone,” Drake says, his tone as commanding as Nathan’s.

With a grunt, Bryce pushes back his chair and stomps out of the room behind Drake and our lawyer, leaving Nathan and me alone. The room is silent, and the tension grows thicker with each passing second. Nathan leans forward and rests his clasped hands on the table. With narrowed eyes, he searches my face, and the heat of his gaze makes my heart rate spike and my insides flutter.

In such close proximity, there’s no mistaking his dominant presence. Also no mistaking that he’s far too handsome to need to find a bride this way. Something must be wrong with him. What if he’s actually gay and all those women he’s been photographed with were an elaborate smokescreen? Maybe I’m supposed to be his beard. That would certainly explain a hell of a lot.

I press my lips together and maintain eye contact even as my legs tremble.

“Why are you doing this, Miss Edison?” he finally asks, his voice thick and dark like rich melted chocolate.

“Because it’s good for our families,” I say, repeating my well-rehearsed mantra. The one I’ve been telling myself every moment since I first entertained the notion of marrying this man to secure my family’s future.

He gives a subtle shake of his head. “No. That’s why your family asked you to do this. But what exactly doyouget out of it?”

I blink at him, entirely unprepared for his question. This was supposed to be a contract discussion between lawyers, not an examination of why I’m agreeing to this archaic proposal. “How about you tell me what’s in this for you?” I challenge.

“The respectability of a wife from a good family. An heir or two,” he replies, deadpan.

“I’m pretty sure you could get any woman you want, Mr. James, so why not find someone the old-fashioned way? And marry for… you know, love?”

That earns me a sarcastic snort, and I frown. “You don’t believe in marrying for love?”

“Do you, Miss Edison? Because if you have any romantic notions about marrying for love, perhaps this arrangement isn’t for you, after all.”

I clear my throat. Damn smartass. I can see why he’s such a good lawyer. “Just because I believe that peoplecanmarry for love doesn’t mean that’s what I want.”

“So what do you want, Melanie?” That’s the first time he’s called me by my first name, and the sound of it on his lips makes heat bloom across my chest.

“I want my family to continue to prosper and for my father’s legacy to go on. I want my children to have a good life.”

He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowed as he runs a hand over his square jaw. “But what aboutyou?”

I swallow hard. What the hell does it matter what I want? He goes on staring at me, waiting for a reply to the question that I don’t have an answer for. Because it’s never about me, only about what’s best for the family. I shake my head, unexpected tears burning behind my eyes.

“It’s not a difficult question,” he says, his tone clipped now like I’m annoying him.

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