Page 47 of Marrying His Brother

I get up from the table and head to the back door. Bear and Bruno are already sitting there, their tails wagging in anticipation.

“Alright, guys,” I say, opening the door. “Out you go.” They bolt into the backyard, chasing each other around, and for a moment, I envy their carefree energy.

Once they’re outside, I grab my keys and head out. The drive to Emily’s apartment is quick.

When I pull up to the building, a man I assume to be Owen is already there, leaning against his car. He straightens up when he sees me and offers a polite smile.

“Morning, Mr. Bennett,” he says as I step out.

“Morning,” I reply, shaking his hand. “Let’s take a look.”

We head inside, and as I walk through the apartment, I try to see it through Emily’s eyes. It’s well-kept, but dated. The layout is a little cramped, the fixtures could use an upgrade, and it’s clear that the place hasn’t had a proper renovation in years.

Still, there’s a charm to it.

“So, what’s your take on the value?” I ask Owen as we finish the tour.

He runs a hand over his jaw, clearly thinking. “It’s a tough market, and the area’s competitive. The apartment’s in good condition, but without some updates, it’s going to be hard to get the price Emily’s hoping for.”

I nod, absorbing his assessment. “And if it were renovated?”

Owen raises an eyebrow, a spark of interest in his eyes. “If it were renovated, we’d definitely be looking at a much higher price.

“Modernize the kitchen, upgrade the bathroom fixtures, maybe even open up the living area a bit more, and you’d have something far more appealing to potential buyers. It could stand out, even in a competitive market.”

I think it over, already seeing the possibilities. It’s the same way I look at properties when we’re working on a project—seeing beyond the flaws, picturing what it could be.

“Alright,” I say finally. “Let’s move forward with the renovations. I want this done right, so I’ll oversee everything myself.”

Owen’s eyeswiden slightly, but he nods. “Of course, Mr. Bennett. I’ll make sure to keep you updated.”

I need him to understand that he’s not to bother Emily henceforth. “From now on, you’ll deal with me directly. I’ll handle all the details, and if there’s anything you need, you come to me.”

“Understood. I’ll start lining up the necessary contractors and suppliers. We’ll get the ball rolling as soon as possible,” Owen says.

“Good,” I say, extending my hand. “Let’s make this work.”

He takes my hand, his grip firm. “We will, Mr. Bennett. I’ll be in touch soon with the initial plans and cost estimates.”

It feels good to know that in some way, I’m making Emily’s life easier. Switching to my next order of business, I need to go through the budget before the meeting with the interior decorators.

As I drive to the Riviera offices, I make a mental note of what I need to do before the meeting with the decorators. There’s a lot riding on this project, and now that my father has handed off my other responsibilities to someone else, I can finally give it my full attention.

I wasn’t thrilled when he first pulled me from my usual projects, giving them to someone else to oversee.

It felt like he was sidelining me, like he didn’t trust me to handle multiple things at once. But now, I’m glad he did. The Riviera Group needs someone dedicated, and right now, that’s me.

When I step into the office building, I take a moment to collect myself before heading up to the floor where Emily’s office is.

We’re getting ready for a big meeting, and I need to be focused, not thinking about things I have no business thinking about.

As I walk through the halls, the familiar rhythm of the office noises greets me—phones ringing, muffled conversations, the hum of printers churning out pages.

Catherine lets Emily know that I’m here and shows me in. I want to give her an update on what we discussed with Stephen. The first thing that hits me is the smell. It’s strong and overpowering, like I’ve just stepped into a florist’s shop.

Emily’s apartment and the plans I want to discuss with her fly out of my mind when I’m confronted by a room filled with flowers—bouquets everywhere.

Roses, lilies, peonies, some in vases, others still wrapped in cellophane. They’re on her desk, the windowsill, even the small table by the corner.

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