Page 3 of The Winter Laird

“What makes you so sure we’ll work, Matthew?”

His phone immediately began to ping with incoming messages, texts, and missed call notifications. “Why wouldn’t we?”

She raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

He looked up at her briefly, his eyes already distant. “We connect on a deeper level, Brianagh. Think of it as an acquisition.” He looked back at his phone, and his thumbs began to move as he answered a text. “Both parties already complement each other in some way. And together, they’ll be a force to be reckoned with. We have all the right things to make the other better, and that’s what you always say makes a match successful.”

As he spoke, Bri studied him. Matthew was so handsome—his blond highlights stood out in deep contrast to his dark brown eyes. He could’ve been a model for high-end clothing.Why can I not be more attracted to this man?

It was a question she’d been asking herself for a long time. The only conclusion she’d drawn was depressing, and after seeing Kristen—who, by all accounts, was possibly the most difficult-to-please woman in all of Boston, and perhaps in New England—find someone perfectly wonderful to love forever, Brianagh accepted the truth. She was incapable of love. Not the kind of love she had for her family—she had that in spades—but the kind of breath-stealing, mind-blowing, passionate love she found in her dreams.

She sighed to herself and poured another glass of champagne, half-listening to Matthew’s phone call about an upcoming acquisition of some sort. He flicked his eyes toward her, and she offered a wan smile. He gave her the thumbs-up, then reached into his pocket and absent-mindedly handed her the empty ring box. She accepted it and placed it in her purse wordlessly before looking out her window, catching sight of the moon’s reflection on the Charles.

It reminded her of the novel she just finished last night, where the hero climbed a tower in the moonlight to see his love one last time before she married another. A smile curved Bri’s lips as she remembered how it ended—the hero and heroine managed to be together, despite the evil fiancé, stalwart father, and society’s expectations.

Bri groaned silently, cursing books for her predicament. If only she hadn’t picked up that romance novel on that library cart all those years ago, enticed by, of all things, its cover, she wouldn’t be so stuck in her fantasy world. She loved and hated that she dreamed of the same man every night. Rationally, she knew her dream lover was a figment of her imagination, made up with various pieces of all the characters she grew to love from the myriad of novels lining her bookshelves at home. But she could picture him clearly, even here, with her boyfriend—well, now her fiancé—clasping her hand and looking every bit the charming millionaire from one of those very books. Here she was, dreaming of her fictional romance hero, when she had a real-life Prince Charming in the flesh.

“Let me conference in Jimmy, then you two can work this out. I’ll be at the office in less than an hour.” Matthew pulled the phone away from his ear. “Brianagh, I’ll drop you at your house, okay? This merger is getting sticky, and I really don’t want it to wait until morning.”

We just became engaged, she felt like screaming.Shouldn’t there be more to this than a ring, a glass of champagne, and a business call?

Instead of voicing any of those thoughts, she merely stated, “Of course.”

She knew better than to dream of the perfect man. Such a creature didn’t exist. She made it herbusinessto know better than that.

Matthew brought her back to the present by taking her glass out of her hand and ending his call. “I should meet your family. Other than your director…what’s his name again?”

“Colin.”

“Yes. Colin. Right.”

“My family is very important to me. You know that.”

“You can still see them, Bri. It’s not like I’ll try to keep them away from you.”

“What about children?” she asked suddenly. “Do you want children, Matthew?”

“Bri, there’s plenty of time for that discussion. Let’s just enjoy being engaged.” Matthew held his phone up to see who was calling him. He rolled his eyes. “Boston Globealready. They know to call my PR department.”

“Why wouldThe Globebe calling you?” Brianagh asked hesitantly.

He gave a look that spoke volumes. “I’m engaged. To you.” He said it as though she should be thanking him for choosing her. An icy tendril of dread snaked up her back.

“Right,” she managed.

“I should probably take this,” Matthew said apologetically. “I don’t trust my new assistant and my PR staff won’t be in until tomorrow. The driver will walk you to your door, though.” He leaned over and bussed her cheek, then took the call.

* * *

Inside her brownstone,Brianagh slid the locks into place and slipped her shoes off. She leaned her forehead against the door. “What have I done?”

“Found my soul mate?” a hopeful voice asked.

Brianagh flipped on the light and threw one of the shoes at her cousin. “Oh, shut up, Colin. Why are you on my couch again?”

“Argh!” he cried out, dramatically flinging his arm across his eyes. He tossed the blanket aside and rose from the couch. “I locked myself out of my apartment,” he explained, running his hand through his dark-blond hair with a shrug.

“Really. And you just happened to haveunlocked yourself out of mine?”

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