Page 138 of The Reluctant Wife

“There are ups and downs in any business.” I lock my fingers together. “Things will bounce back.”

“There are ups and downs, and then, there are downs and more downs,” he drawls.

Anger thuds at my temples.I will not lose my temper. I will not.

He slides his hand into his pocket. “Not that I don’t understand your reluctance to sell out.”

“You do?”

“Of course. You’ve invested your sweat and blood, and likely, your entire savings into the venture. Too bad you didn’t have a financial person advising you.”

Of course, he’d say that. Nate’s always been a numbers whiz. I heard that from Ben. It’s why, even when they were in the Marines together, Nate oversaw strategy. He was the person coming up with the game plan for their team. It was Nate’s sharpbrain which helped them both stay ahead of the enemy; or so my brother informed me over the years. Too bad his best friend’s temperament leaves much to be desired.

“I would be willing to consider a merger instead of an acquisition of your little business.” His gaze flicks about the place and back at me.

“Littlebusiness?” I curl my fingers into fists.Breathe, count back from ten. Do not give into the impulsive need to throw a pie in his face.

He wipes his thumb under his lip, a considering look in his eyes. “Of course, I don’t have to do anything. But given you’re Ben’s little sister, and he wouldn’t want me to leave you in the lurch, I might have a proposition that could help both of us.”

“Of course you do.”

My sarcasm is lost on him, for he looks me up and down. “Marry me.”

To find out what happens next read Skylar & Nathan’s story inThe Unwanted Wifehere

Read Liam and Isla’s marriage of convenience romance where the bridegroom marries the wedding planner in,The Proposal, here.

Read an excerpt:

Liam

"Where is she?"

The receptionist gazes at me cow-eyed. Her lips move, but no words emerge. She clears her throat, glances sideways at the door to the side and behind her, then back at me.

"So, I take it she’s in there?" I brush past her, and she jumps to her feet. "Sir, y-y-you can’t go in there."

"Watch me." I glare at her.

She stammers, then gulps. Sweat beads her forehead. She shuffles back, and I stalk past her.

Really, is there no one who can stand up to me?All of this scraping of chairs and fawning over me? It’s enough to drive a man to boredom. I need a challenge. So, when my ex-wife-to-be texted me to say she was calling off our wedding, I was pissed. But when she let it slip that her wedding planner was right—that she needs to marry for love, and not for some family obligation, rage gripped me. I squeezed my phone so hard the screen cracked. I almost hurled the device across the room. When I got a hold of myself, for the first time in a long time, a shiver of something like excitement passed through me.Finally, fuck.

That familiar pulse of adrenaline pulses through my veins. It’s a sensation I was familiar with in the early days of building my business.

After my father died and I took charge of the group of companies he’d run, I was filled with a sense of purpose; a one-directional focus to prove myself and nurture his legacy. To make my group of companies the leader, in its own right. To make so much money and amass so much power, I’d be a force to be reckoned with.

I tackled each business meeting with a zeal that none of my opponents were able to withstand. But with each passing year—as I crossed the benchmarks I’d set myself, as my bottom line grew healthier, my cash reserves engorged, and the people working for me began treating me with the kind of respect normally reserved for larger-than-life icons—some of that enthusiasm waned. Oh, I still wake up ready to give my best to my job every day, but the zest that once fired me up faded, leaving a sense of purposelessness behind.

The one thing that has kept me going is to lock down my legacy. To ensure the business I’ve built will finally be transferred to my name. For which my father informed me Iwould need to marry. Which is why, after much research, I tracked down Lila Kumar, wooed her, and proposed to her. And then, her meddling wedding planner came along and turned all of my plans upside down.

Now, that same sense of purpose grips me. That laser focus I’ve been lacking envelops me and fills my being. All of my senses sharpen as I shove the door of her office open and stalk in.

The scent envelops me first. The lush notes of violets and peaches. Evocative and fruity. Complex, yet with a core of mystery that begs to be unraveled. Huh? I’m not the kind to be affected by the scent of a woman, but this... Her scent... It’s always chafed at my nerve endings. The hair on my forearms straightens.

My guts tie themselves up in knots, and my heart pounds in my chest. It’s not comfortable. The kind of feeling I got the first time I went white-water rafting. A combination of nervousness and excitement as I faced my first rapids. A sensation that had since ebbed. One I’d been chasing ever since, pushing myself to take on extreme sports. One I hadn’t thought I’d find in the office of a wedding planner.

My feet thud on the wooden floor, and I get a good look at the space which is one-fourth the size of my own office. In the far corner is a bookcase packed with books. On the opposite side is a comfortable settee packed with cushions women seem to like so much. There’s a colorful patchwork quilt thrown over it, and behind that, a window that looks onto the back of the adjacent office building. On the coffee table in front of the settee is a bowl with crystal-like objects that reflect the light from the floor lamps. There are paintings on the wall that depict scenes from beaches. No doubt, the kind she’d point to and sell the idea of a honeymoon to gullible brides. I suppose the entire space would appeal to women. With its mood lighting and homey feel, thespace invites you to kick back, relax and pour out your problems. A ruse I’m not going to fall for.

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