Page 9 of Marrying the Gardener
“Consider my interests in this agreement somewhat personal.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“I assume we’ll be sharing a bedroom. If you intend to keep this ruse between us, your live-in staff will expect as much. Consider it my honor to spend such intimate time with you.”
She frees a sardonic laugh. “In some ways, it’s refreshing to know you aren’t sugar-coating your intentions. That is the only angle I keep coming back to—the novelty of beingwitha Nightingale. I cannot stress enough that we willnotbe going there, Mr. Charter.”
“Never call me that. Please.”
“Very well. Kaleb, we will not be going there. If you wantto waste millions on a futile effort to get in my pants, I won’t try to convince you otherwise, but for my own peace of mind, I want to make myself painfully clear.” She leans forward, and ice sharpens the look in her brown eyes. “We will not be engaging in intercourse. We will not be sharing a bed. My master bedroom shares a closet with another master bedroom. Those doors lock. You will be staying in that other room.”
“In that case, I do actually have a price. I’d like for you to allow me to spend time with you in private each evening before we go to our separate rooms.”
“No.”
“That’s my requirement. It’s important for both our sakes, Ms. Nightingale. You’re placing me in a corrosive role. For this to work, we need to remain united. We will need to understand each other. It’s vital that we set aside the time to communicate, apologize, and renew our trust in each other after whatever horrors the day’s act brings us both through. Is that not reasonable?”
“I’m entirely convinced that you intend to use that time trying to seduce me.”
I hold her gaze. “And if I do?”
“It’s futile.”
“Then what do you have to lose?”
Her expression cools, and she offers me the pen. “Fair enough, Kaleb. But you should know, I am not morally opposed to stabbing in self defense.”
“Do continue to flirt with me, Crimson.” Taking the pen, I sign my name on every line, then I smile and offer her my hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, wife.”
Chuckling, she clasps my fingers, and squeezes. “Til his death do we part, husband.”
Chapter 3
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Leaving home. Again.
Kaleb
“I have called this family meeting together in order to explain a situation and make a very big request…” Wetting my lips, I stand at the height of one of the main Bachelor manor’s living rooms. Furnished in the dark burgundy and velvet shades that our parents gravitated toward, the room oozes wealth, class, and darkness—especially since Zakery pulled the sheer white backing of the thick curtains over the windows when he and Mealin, his wife with albinism, entered.
Her skin and eyes are sensitive to the light.
I understand that.
I just wish that so many rooms in our home didn’t lend themselves so easily to the atmosphere of Madame D’Clancy’s ladies’ club. My time in Madame’s care was significantly better than my time here, but the constant reminder that I left the people I’m looking at right now behind stings.
In my humble opinion, homes are meant to be brightly furnished and welcoming, void of shadows, free of painful memories—like a garden.
I hate being in these walls. I hate imagining the abuse that took place while I was free.
Sweeping my gaze across my three present brothers—Kyran, Zakery, and Viktor—as well as Zakery’s wife, Maelin; Viktor’s fiancée, Crisis; and Maelin’s twin sister, our maid, Morana, I exhale the tightness in my lungs. My only missing brother, Lukas, became the popstar in this family of celebrities, sohe’s still on tour for a little over another month, until mid-September. Hopefully my involvement with Crimson will have changed its nature before he gets back.
“Is everything all right?” Viktor asks, hand clenched against his thigh as he sits on the edge of a clawfoot loveseat beside Crisis.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Then what’s this about?” Kyran drawls, ruffling his shoulder-length hair and stifling a yawn.
