Chapter 5: Finding Forever: Chapter 4

Fern awoke in Denmark.

She hadn’t once thought to ask where they were going, and when Cade shook her awake hours after they’d departed from the airport in Cape Town, she was shocked to realize that she’d slept through the entire flight. And that someone—likely Cade—had somehow managed to move her from the seat where she’d fallen asleep, onto the comfortable double bed in the sleeping quarters of the plane without waking her.

She hadn’t recognized how tense she’d been since discovering her pregnancy and how the sudden absence of her fear and tension would leave her utterly wiped out. She also hadn’t understood how much she trusted this relative stranger until she’d left herself so utterly vulnerable in his presence.

“Why Denmark?” she asked in a groggy voice, while tugging a comb through her hair which she would usually braid before bed. Instead, it had been left loose and was now a snarled mess.

“Easiest place for tourists to get married quickly,” Cade said, his eyes following the movement of the comb through her hair before he quickly looked away. “Also, no visa requirements for any of us.”

Fern—like her soon-to-be-husband—had a dual British/South African citizenship. It made travelling to Europe much more convenient. And, since her school had been in Switzerland, it had been useful.

“I see.” They were in a limo en-route to God knows where, Fern trusted that Cade and his father—who was sitting across from them watching them with a furrowed brow—knew what they were doing.

“You’ve placed a lot of faith in us,” James Hawthorne suddenly said, as if he’d read her mind.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’ve overheard Granger speak about you to Richard several times before your arrival yesterday. I think he always felt aggrieved and outsmarted by you. That was why he played these petty games with you. Because he could never quite get his way with you. I can’t say he likes you very much.” She allowed a small, malicious smile to tug at the corners of her lips as she recalled her stepfather’s constant frustration when it came to his dealings with these men. “It was because of his dislike of you that I took a leap and decided to trust you. It was risky, but I had no other viable alternative.”

Her straightforward response startled a gruff laugh out of the older man, and he slanted an inscrutable look toward Cade, who was sitting on the same bench seat as her, but what felt like miles away, against the door.

Fern risked a glance at Cade, before diverting her gaze back to her hands, which were twisted nervously in her lap.

“So where are we going?” she asked.

“To the chapel,” Cade intoned in a somber tone of voice. “Where we’re gonna get… married.”

His father choked back another laugh and the deadpan delivery of the line immediately brought Fern’s eyes back up to Cade’s face. His expression was as inscrutable as always, but she caught a glimmer of something resembling humor in that penetrative stare. His eyes were deep, dark gray with these mesmerizing striations of blue threaded throughout the gray that made them disturbingly beautiful. He was so handsome it was almost painful to look at him for too long.

Tall and so seriously big, that even while he sat practically huddled in the opposite corner of the huge limo, she still felt crowded by his bulk. He was too big, too muscled to be an attorney. Someone with his build should be in construction, or working on an oil rig or something. His hands were meant for wielding power tools and sledgehammers. She’d recently read somewhere that all of the Hawthorne children—even McKenna—had spent their adolescence working on construction sites to get a feel of the business at grassroots level. It certainly showed in the Cade’s bulk.

The gold Montblanc fountain pen he was gripping between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand looked out of place in that huge, rough paw.

His silky black hair fell over his broad sweeping forehead in wings from a slight widow’s peak. One that she could see he’d inherited from his father. That wasn’t the only thing he’d inherited from the older man. There were also the dimples, deep grooves in their cheeks that were present even when they were not smiling. And seriously, Fern couldn’t recall seeing Cade smile more than twice. And both of those times had been on the night they’d first met.

There was no sign of any smile on his face currently, despite his dry little pun of just a moment ago. He held her gaze a moment longer, before picking up his briefcase and opening it to rifle through the contents. He produced a thick sheaf of papers and handed them to her.

“My team drafted these while we were en-route.”

She flipped blindly through the documents, before lifting her eyes to meet his again.

“Prenup,” he said, separating one paper-clipped document from the batch. “Basically, protects us both. What’s mine is mine, what’s yours stays yours. With the exception of Lambecrete (Pty) Ltd.”

“Right.” She nodded. “Where do I sign?”

She looked up in time to see that familiar little frown marring his forehead again.

“You should read it first,” he said, his voice flat with censure. She imagined it offended his lawyerly sensibilities that she didn’t bother to read the document.

“What’s mine is mine, what’s yours stays yours?” she repeated and he nodded, the frown deepening. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Fern, come on…”

“How long is this drive?”

“Another ten minutes, max.”

“I couldn’t read this in an hour, much less ten minutes.” She leaned toward him to nab the heavy pen from his grip and flipped to the last page, where she found a blue sticky tab next to her name. She signed with a flourish and initialed all the required spots, pausing to read those at least—pretty standard stuff really—before handing the contract back to him.

He sighed, sounding aggrieved, while his father looked on with what appeared to be amusement.

“Dad? Witness?”

His father nodded and took the contract from him, using his own expensive platinum pen to sign.

“What are those?” she asked, lifting his pen to point to the other papers in Cade’s massive hand.

“The transfer of Lambecrete to Hawthorne Construction & Engineering. Pending completion of our exchange of marital vows.”

“Gimme,” she said, holding her hand palm up and opening and closing her hand in a grabby motion. “C’mon.”

“You’re sure?”

“I just flew halfway across the world with a couple of strange men, fully intending to marry one of them. Why would I change my mind now?”

Her exhaustion and relief were making her feel giddy and euphoric, and she knew she wasn’t behaving in an appropriately somber manner. Cade probably believed the mood should be slightly more funereal, but Fern was happy and she was optimistic. And she couldn’t suppress either of those emotions.

He sighed heavily and handed her the papers. She took her time flipping through this one, stopping to read all the highlighted clauses that required her initials.

“And this is final, right?” she asked when she’d reached the last page. “He can’t undo this? He can’t take it away from you again?”

“I’d like to see him try,” Cade said with a calm confidence that made Fern’s stomach flip. Who knew self-confidence could be so sexy? It must be nice to be so brilliant at something that it left you in absolutely no doubt of your own competence and capability.

“My son does love a good fight,” James Hawthorne said, his voice brimming with pride. “Gets that from his da, he does.”

“I’m sure he does,” Fern said, levelling a wide smile at her future father-in-law.

Fuck.

Cade had never seen her smile like that before and it transformed her face from plain into something else. Something enthralling and hard to look away from. The way her eyes lit up, and her expression softened. Like she cared deeply about the person she was smiling at, like he meant something to her…

Suddenly Cade resented the hell out of the fact that all of that warmth and—yes—beauty was aimed at his dad. He wanted her to look at him like that. He wanted her to smile at him like he was her entire fucking world. And that freaked him the hell out because he shouldn’t want that.

Realistically he knew that he didn’t want that. But that smile was doing really fucked up things to his body and mind and he resented the hell out of it, while simultaneously craving it with every fiber of his being.

He was glaring at her. He couldn’t control it—he knew he was being an utter twat—and both Fern and his dad became aware of his glowering at the same time. She turned her head to fully face him, and the smile he’d so coveted disappeared in an instant. His dad meanwhile stared at him with raised brows, as if to ask what the hell his problem was.

Cade wished he knew.

He wet his lips and her eyes dropped to follow the movement. Cade found that he liked that, liked her gaze on his mouth. And he couldn’t understand this unforeseen bizarre possessiveness he felt over her. Maybe it was due to the fact that she would be his wife in a matter of mere minutes. Perhaps it went with the territory. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it confused him and Cade did not like being confused.

This was still the same woman with whom he’d had the worst sex of his life, the same woman who’d lied about a pregnancy to get her way. The same woman who’d allowed her family to treat her like a doormat for a decade and a half. This was not anyone he wanted to get to know, or spend time with.

And yet, as she lowered her eyes back to the contract in her hands, he found himself holding his breath when she lifted his pen to her mouth and tapped it to her lush upper lip while she studied the document.

And he couldn’t stop his filthy fucking mind from imagining his cock tapping against that gorgeous mouth in the same intriguing rhythm.

Christ Almighty, he lamented to himself, as he fought down the surging arousal that accompanied the intrusive thought. Fuck my life! What the hell is this now?

Cade had thought of everything.

Fern stared down at the engagement and wedding rings now adorning her finger in bemusement. The engagement ring which featured a round cut diamond solitaire on a twisted platinum band, was both delicate and beautiful. And the wedding ring, a twisted, diamond encrusted band, slotted seamlessly in beside the engagement ring. To her surprise—Cade had opted for a ring for himself as well, a matching brushed platinum ring with a similarly twisted band.

The twisted bands reminded her of the eternity symbol and she wondered why he’d chosen this particular design. Then again, it was highly unlikely that he’d chosen them himself. He’d probably delegated the task to some hapless, overly romantic assistant, who’d mistakenly believed he was marrying for love or something.

She ran her thumb over the rings, unable to quite fathom that she was now married. They’d been in Denmark for little under five hours, and were now back on the plane heading God knows where. The wedding itself had been brief and to the point, a quick civil ceremony conducted in English by a tall, imposing man with a thick accent.

James Hawthorne had been their only witness.

But the older man, and his entourage of nameless flunkies, had all remained behind in Copenhagen. Cade and Fern were the only people on this flight. And he’d descended into grim silence, staring moodily out at the clouds below. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since the wedding, nearly three hours ago.

Fern was seated across from him, with her legs folded beneath her butt, and after listlessly flipping through a really, really boring financial magazine, she’d switched to scrolling through Instagram until her phone died on her.

She found a charging port under the little coffee table between her seat and Cade’s, and set the phone aside, before resting an elbow on the padded armrest and dropping her cheek into the palm of her hand.

She then openly watched her new husband, as he glowered out at the passing puffy clouds.

“What?” He broke the silence curtly a few minutes later.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to Cape Town. I have an apartment there. We’ll spend some time with my sister and brother, putting up a united front for the world to see.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to make this look like a love match. We met at the gala, fell in love, and—when we reunited at your stepfather’s house—realized that we couldn’t live without each other and we eloped. That’s what the papers will be reporting in the morning.”

Her mouth fell open in a silent oh.

“But why such an elaborate story?”

“Makes it harder for your stepfather to cry foul and make it seem like I somehow took advantage of his sweet, naïve stepdaughter. If we sell it as a fairytale romance—and we’re convincing about it—it’ll be a PR nightmare for him if he tries to discredit our relationship.”

“Can he do that? And will it damage your reputation? I don’t want that. I don’t want to cause that kind of trouble for you.”

“Look, we have to prepare ourselves for the reality that he’ll likely try. He’s probably going to claim that you’re emotionally and mentally vulnerable and that I used those vulnerabilities to further my own ends. Especially since we’re gaining Lambecrete, a company we’ve very openly been attempting to buy.”

“What would spending time with your siblings achieve?” Fern was reluctant to involve even more people in this deception.

“It’ll demonstrate that you’ve been accepted as part of the family already. Abernathy can’t touch you when you’re with us, Fern. I promise you that.”

“And a few family get togethers will prove that I’m now a much-loved, valuable member of the Hawthorne clan?” The words sent a pang of longing through her. She hadn’t been a much-loved, valuable part of any family since she was twelve, and she found herself wishing she was indeed treasured—for more than her financial assets—by this man and his family.

“Well no. But it can’t hurt. And I haven’t spent much time with my siblings over the last year or so—it’s hard when we live on different continents—I might as well get in some quality time with them while I’m wasting precious time taking a forced vacation with my temporary wife.”

So much for that naïve hope of being treasured by a husband. It certainly wasn’t going to be by this particular husband. She swallowed down her irrational shaft of hurt and sternly reminded herself to be realistic about her situation.

And despite her silly disappointment in his response, his honesty, as well as this glimpse of the affection he clearly felt for his siblings, surprised her. Cade didn’t strike her as someone who revealed much of himself. Her impression of him so far was that of a serious, staid man who was stingy with his words and his smiles.

This was a welcome, wholesome, glance behind that stuffy exterior and she ached to learn more.

“Why isn’t your father joining us?” she asked, mostly to keep him talking.

“For one thing, it would be weird for him to join us on our supposed honeymoon. And for another, Dad and our legal team took the company chopper from Copenhagen back to our head office in Edinburgh. We may have signed the documents, but Lambecrete’s ownership transference is going to be a lengthy, complicated affair. Especially if—or I should say when—Abernathy decides to contest it. And my father and the team will get a head start on the troubleshooting process.”

“How can they do that without you? Don’t they need you for that?”

His lips quirked into that almost smile again. “Nice to know my wife believes me so indispensable.”

“You’re the head of your father’s legal team, aren’t you?” she asked, valiantly beating back the flush that rose in her cheeks.

“My associates have it in hand.”

“How long will we be staying in Cape Town?”

“Long enough to be photographed around town, as a couple, and with my family. A couple of weeks maybe, before we fly home.”

Home? The word made her pause and she frowned as she once again acknowledged that she knew absolutely nothing about this man. She’d first met him at an ancient castle-like mansion—apparently their ancestral seat—in Edinburgh and she now wondered if that drafty, intimidating, mausoleum-like place would be their home.

“Where’s home?”

“London. I have a townhouse.”

“I see. And I’ll be living there—uhm—with you?”

“For now.”

“Right. And what about uh… intimacy?” Her skin was on fire with embarrassment, but this was the first time she’d really had time alone with him since this all started, and there were a lot of very important logistical matters that they’d not yet addressed.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to be married for at least three years, right?” she said, eyes on her neatly interlocked fingers which were folded into a tight prayer like grip in her lap. “What about sex?”

The silence screamed and it went on for so long that she had no choice but to lift her eyes and peek up at him through her lashes. He was staring at her, looking a little confounded. Why? Because she’d had the nerve to broach the subject or because he hadn’t considered it before now?

He caught her stare and seemed to shake himself before saying, “What about sex?”

“Do you… will we… I don’t expect you to be celibate. But if you’re seen with other women, it’ll bring our so-called fairytale romance into doubt.”

“All fairytale romances eventually crash and burn,” he muttered and the cynicism in his voice stole her breath away.

“What an awful thing to say. What about your siblings and their marriages? Don’t you think those will last?”

“My sister’s marriage already seems to be on shaky ground, and that’s after only a year and a half. Gideon and Beth, they’ve been together the same length of time but they’re solid. They’ll last, but the fairytale can’t. It changes to everyday drudgery. Their love might be forever, but that giddy devotion will eventually devolve into—I don’t know—habit maybe.”

She was about to comment on that, negate it in some way, when his lips twisted into a cynical imitation of a smile.

“So, if you’re worried that me fucking other women will cast doubt onto our perfect little love story, are you saying I should be not celibate with you?”

She stared into his beautiful face for a long, appalled moment, not sure how to respond to that. That wasn’t what she’d been suggesting. Or wondering. Or hoping.

Except… maybe it was?

And right now she had no idea why she’d even brought the subject up, it had seemed important at the time, but now all she could think of was how he’d felt inside of her. The size of him, the pressure, the presence… and she wondered how it would feel to do it again. But maybe with less clothes. And for longer. Maybe it would be⁠—

“Because, I don’t think we’re compatible in that way.” His words registered just as she began to spin impossible fantasies around the two of them. Together again.

“Not compatible?” she repeated, confused, and he grimaced, dull red seeping into his cheeks. He looked discomfited, uneasy, on edge and seemed to have trouble meeting her eyes.

“Look, Fern, the last time wasn’t great, aye?” When he phrased it like that, his accent thickened. It was an unwelcome distraction, when Fern very much needed to focus on what he was saying. “I think we’d both had a little too much to drink and imagined an attraction where there was none. It’s the only explanation I can think of for what happened between us.”

Only, all Fern had had to drink that night was two sips of champagne. And while the experience had been disappointing, she didn’t think it had been quite as appalling as Cade clearly seemed to think it was.

“When you say ‘what happened between us’ do you mean the sex act or the quality of the sex?”

“Yeah? Both of those things? You’re not really someone I’d normally find myself attracted to—” He winced and shook his head in self-disgust. “No, sorry, that’s not—I didn’t mean it to sound so… Uh, look, Fern, I usually date more sophisticated women and you’re… I mean you’re nice, but you’re not my type. And whatever drew me to you that night, it kind of—it sort of fizzled when we—while we were in the middle of it.”

Fern now had a hand clamped over her mouth in horror as her stare turned into a glare of disbelief and disgust. What the hell was she supposed to say in response to this disjointed, ineloquent pile of insulting drivel? How did one even react to words such as these?

“So, what you’re saying is that you were drunk when you first saw me, imagined you were attracted to me, and at some point, between kissing me and sticking your penis in me, you suddenly realized that I wasn’t your type?” Her voice raised to a near shout on the last two words, and she pinched her lips shut and tried to control her breathing for a few, furious moments before counting to ten and attempting to speak again. “Well, I’m certainly glad we cleared this up, Cade. Don’t worry, you and your perplexed penis are no longer welcome anywhere near the general vicinity of my body and all its attached bits. I’d hate for you to be the victim of any more mediocre sex.”