Page 11 of Sparrow

A whistle has Foxy running to her owner, and I can just see the pink of his cheeks as he gets into his patrol SUV. I tilt my head to the side to see him better, and he blows me a kiss before pulling off.

“Fuck,” I hiss at myself.

I got it bad for that man.

CHAPTERSIX

MALACHI

I’m orderingfrom her favorite restaurant before I leave the clinic’s driveway. I pat Foxy’s head as we get home with dinner and dessert in hand. I should have just enough time to grab a shower before Aspen gets off.

I put the pasta in the oven to keep warm and the cake on the counter. My phone rings as I’m pulling my shirt off, and I curse.

“Hello?” I answer without looking too preoccupied with getting the water temperature right.

“Malachi Nassar? This is Arman Turan. I believe you were made aware of who I am today?” Well, shit.

I thought this would take longer, but apparently, my uncle had other planes.

“Yes, sir. I was handed a copy of the marriage arrangement earlier today. I haven’t had a moment to discuss it with my attorney, but I can assure you that I have no intention of marrying your daughter. I’m truly sorry if that offends you. However, I was not raised in my mother’s culture, nor do I practice those beliefs. Since I was a child when these arrangements were made, I hope you understand my position.” I sit on the edge of the tub and wait for him to speak.

“I see. Thank you for the clarification on the matter. So you are prepared to lose your inheritance?” I laugh without humor.

“Every dime, sir. I’m not marrying anyone I don’t love over money.” When my uncle had mentioned that part, I just shrugged.

I barely touch my trust fund.

“That is a very cavalry way to look at fifty million dollars.” I snort.

“I’m not sure where you got that figure, sir, but I assure you that is not what my parents left me.” I run my fingers through my hair and look at my watch.

I need to wrap this up.

“It is the marriage dowry that I refer to. Or did your uncle fail to mention that upon your marriage to my daughter before her twenty-fifth birthday, you will both have access to the funds?” Son of a bitch.

“He left that part out.” I sigh and rub my temples.

“My Soraya will be twenty-five this fall. We have delayed the process long enough.” I hear the doorbell and frown.

“Sir, I appreciate your situation, but my previous statement stands. I do not know you or your daughter. There will be no marriage. Goodbye.” I hang up and turn off the shower before running to open the door.

“Um, not that I’m complaining, but shirtless services may be a little over the top.” Her face lights up with a wide grin as she surveys my bare chest.

“Sorry,” I rush back inside and try to put a shirt on, but she stops me with a sharp exclamation.

“What the fuck is this?” I clutch the shirt in my hands and curse.

“Shit,” I left the paperwork on the coffee table.

“We should talk.” She waves them at me and nods.

“You think?” I look up at my ceiling, looking for some type of clarity.

Why is my life so fucking complicated?

“Stop looking for help from above and explain this. Wait, these were signed over thirty years ago.” I nod and plop my ass on my couch, tired beyond words.

I spent the better part of the day driving to and from Las Vegas just to cover the end of a friend’s shift because his wife had gone into labor early. Now I feel grimy, haven’t gotten a shower, hunger, and my girl is reading about me marrying a stranger.

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