Page 36 of The Unplanned Wedding

"She’s not the one I married. I married your grandmother because?—"

"She brought her father’s group of companies, not to mention, her own inheritance, which added to your net worth. I’m aware,” I interject.

"She gave me the sons I wanted. Not all of them turned out to be worthwhile. My grandsons, on the other hand… There’s hope for you lot, so it wasn’t completely in vain."

"Should I be grateful for that?" I scoff.

He shrugs. "Gratitude is for pussies. All I need from you is a sperm deposit in the right receptacle, and at the right time, so it bears fruit."

Andthatis my grandfather.And you wonder why I’m screwed up?

The door to my office opens. I'm about to tell my assistant off for letting someone else in, but I see her face and correctly read the uncertainty on it. When I see who’s with her, I nod in her direction. Without words, I convey that she did the right thing in letting this person in, and my assistant reads my expression correctly, for her shoulders relax. It’s eerie how she can read my mind. Something no one else can do. Goes to show that she’s a good assistant, is all. Doesn’t mean anything else. My assistant leaves.

I lean back in my seat. "I get it. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. And you want to make sure I marry and use it as a platform for my procreation?"

"Exactly,” Arthur says in a pleased tone.

"But you’re not going to be able to do that with your current girlfriend, so that relationship doesn’t matter?"

Arthur’s forehead creases. He appears to be thinking through the answer, then nods slowly. "Imelda’s unique. But sadly, she’s past child-bearing age, so she’s someone pleasant enough to spend time with, but as for anything else?" He shakes his head. "Nope, I won’t be marrying her anytime soon."

"Good to know what your real thoughts are about our relationship," a new voice rings out from by the door.

Arthur swivels around in his seat and his entire body freezes. "I-Imelda?" he croaks.

His motorcycle jacket and shit-kickers wearing girlfriend squeezes her helmet between her hands. I’m sure she’s going to fling it at him, but instead, her shoulders slump. "I thought you’d changed. And no, I wouldn’t say it was our relationship that softened you, but I hoped a brush with death might knock some sense into you; guess I was wrong."

"Imelda, honey—please hear me out." He jumps to his feet and rushes toward her.

She shakes her head. "Oh, fuck off, old man. I can do much better than you, but I thought I’d give you a chance. My mistake."

"No, no, you have to understand; I was talking to my grandson metaphorically."

"Oh?" she asks in a mild voice. "You were lying to your grandson?"

I stifle a chuckle. This woman is something else. And she’s good for my grandfather. Too bad, I saw her at the doorway and goaded Arthur into revealing his true thoughts about her. Best she sees what an arse he is, right?

"No, I wasn’t. I mean—" Arthur comes to a standstill a few feet away from her. "I mean, I was, but not exactly. I?—"

Imelda laughs, the sound bitter in the space. "Stuff it. I don’t know why I wasted my time on you, but suffice it to say, this relationship has passed its expiry date. Goodbye, Arthur." She pivots and walks out. The door snicks shut behind her.

Arthur draws in a sharp breath, then turns to me "I’d say I'm upset with you for not telling me Imelda was listening in on our conversation, but you’ve shown me that, of all my grandsons, you’re the one who’s closest to me in terms of being conniving."

Guilty as charged. And no, I’m not apologetic for what I did. Imelda deserved to know Arthur’s true nature. On the other hand, fuck if I want to be compared to him.But I keep my mouth shut and put an expression of polite disinterest on my face. While I take risks, I’m not foolish enough to underestimate my opponents, and definitely not my canny grandfather.

He swivels and walks to the door, then stops and glances at me. "You have one month to find someone to marry, Knox. Else you get hitched to Priscilla Whittington."

13

June

"Thanks, Kelly." My boss nods in my direction without looking at me as I place the bottle of water in his outstretched hand.

"It’s June," I mutter, then wonder why I bother. It’s been a week since the royal event outing, during which time, he’s gone back to calling me by a different name. I thought we were over that. Considering he’s allowed me to lick my cum off his foot, and also seen me orgasm it’s not like we're strangers. Sure, he made it clear that it’d been a mistake, but couldn't he, at least call, me by my given name? But nope.

He’s also limited our interaction to emails, as much as possible. During the day, he's forbidden me to come in, the only exception being to bring him coffee or lunch. During which time, I’ve tried to catch his eye and failed. He's doing his best to pretend I don’t exist—and succeeding, too.

And after his grandfather left yesterday morning, his mood declined even further. He made it clear he was not to be disturbed for anyone, and that included family members. Message received. Instead, I was subjected to a barrage of emails with things to do which kept me busy all of yesterday.When I came in today with his coffee, he was already on a conference call and didn't acknowledge my presence. I lingered for a few seconds, hoping he’d, at least, glance up and look at me with that cerulean gaze of his. When it became clear he wasn’t going to, I placed his coffee beside him and left.

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