The Accidental Marriage: Chapter 15

“When do we get to meet the bride?”

My grandmother’s voice comes from the phone. My eyes slide to the clock on the desk in my spacious office at Huxley & Webber. Eleven thirty-six a.m. An exceptional display of patience on her part. Or perhaps Aunt Jeremiah didn’t text her last night.

But knowing how my aunt is with Grandmother, my money’s on the former. Given her regular routine, Grandmother probably spent the morning trying to figure out who Lareina is and just when and how I had the time to meet and marry someone.

“When would you like?” I ask.

“Before the month’s up, since that is the deadline.”

“Then tonight?”

“Excellent. Akiko was quite excited about hosting a dinner.”

Ah. She was busy plotting a little get-together with my stepmother. Should’ve known. The Fogeys love throwing those at me and my brothers.

“We’ll be there. Seven?” I start to type a text to Lareina so she can plan the rest of her day accordingly.

“Yes.” Grandmother hesitates. “Are you in love with your wife?”

My fingers still. “Grandmother.”

“I just… I just want to know if she’ll be good for you. That she can make you happy.” There is a thread of wistfulness and guilt in her normally cool, impassive tone. “You, of all the children, Ares, deserve to be happy. You’ve suffered so much.”

I soften my voice. “Grandmother, I’m content. Lareina is the nice, respectable wife you expected of me. I’ll be even happier when I make junior partner.”

She lets out a soft chuckle. “Fine. But I meant what I said about nice and respectable. I don’t want you to marry just anybody for the promotion.”

“Seriously? Then you shouldn’t have tied my promotion to having a wife.”

“If you’d quit looking for the girl—”

“I will never stop looking for her.” I see my brothers at the door. “Gotta go. See you later.”

As soon as I hang up, Bryce and Josh walk in. They’re identical twins with dark eyes and even darker hair, the polar opposite of Mom, which I envy. Although they don’t always have the time to go out and enjoy the sun, their skin is more or less golden all the time. Since it’s a Huxley custom, they’re in three-piece suits, shoes impeccably polished. When they have their hair slicked back the same, it’s almost impossible to tell them apart. Even I have trouble.

Bryce is in a pinstriped charcoal suit, Josh in all black. The latter has a meeting with a client who needs extra care and reassurance, and he likes to look as somber as possible on such occasions. Aunt Jeremiah advised him to smile a lot at the client, as she’s somewhat vapid, but he declined, saying he didn’t want to encourage the woman.

They close the door behind them. Josh takes a seat, but Bryce doesn’t. Instead, he paces like a big cat in a zoo.

Josh and I wait. It’s not a good idea to jump in and start a conversation when Bryce is like this.

“You got married?” he says finally.

I stretch my legs out and cross my ankles. “You heard?”

“Of course we heard. I thought we were going to be your best men.” Josh sounds reproachful. “Don’t you think it was a little fast, even for the promotion?”

Bryce’s eyes fall on my ring. “Jesus. Was the ceremony legit? Did you fake being poor?”

“It was quite proper,” I say. “And no. The situation was a little tense. I didn’t have a lot of cash on me, but still had to get married quickly.” I get puzzled looks from my brothers and hold up a hand to forestall them. “But to answer your real question, yes, my wife knows I have at least two billion to my name.”

Josh stares at me, then covers his face with a hand.

Bryce stops pacing. “Who did your prenup?” He sounds genuinely hurt. Prenups are one of the things he does. He drafted one for our cousin when he got married, and undoubtedly expected to do mine.

“Don’t have one. The officiant allegedly added ‘not take the other person’s shit’ to the vows.”

Bryce looks flabbergasted. “And you went along with it?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Josh demands, his eyes sharp. “What happened to your common sense and brain?”

“I was drugged, that’s what happened,” I say.

Josh’s jaw drops. “She drugged you?”

“No. Harvey did, using Soledad.”

That stops them. Bryce takes a seat. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already contacted the police. She’s going to pay.”

Josh cocks an eyebrow. “How?”

“I’m sure the surveillance cameras at the party caught everything. Barry’s a player, but he’s also a fanatic about covering his bases.” One of his former football teammates got accused of sexual assault. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any video, and it became an ugly he said/she said publicity nightmare for the guy. Even after he managed to clear his name, it was too late. Every time somebody Googles his name, at least one article about the assault accusation comes up among the top three search results. “Soledad isn’t exactly subtle. Or smart. She thinks her daddy can fix anything for her.” She even threatened me with her dad after our breakup. She doesn’t understand that I don’t work for her father.

“How about Harvey?” Bryce says balefully.

My jaw tightens. “That’s harder. He doesn’t dirty his hands.”

“Why is he messing with you like that?” Josh seethes. He hates our uncle—actually, everyone from our maternal family.

“Aunt Jeremiah tells me Vincent is sick,” I say.

“So?” Bryce’s indifference to Vincent’s condition matches mine.

“What’s the point of her telling you anyway? Are we supposed to go see him at the hospital?” Josh bristles. “If I see him in person, I might just end up spitting in his face.” He’s still resentful that Mom never went to jail for kidnapping me. Actually, so is Bryce.

Guilt still plagues them. They blame themselves for running when I fought Mom and bought them time. If they’d stayed with me… If they had been kidnapped and taken to the cabin, perhaps I wouldn’t have suffered so much. They’re certain that, if only they’d been there, I might not have made up the “illusion” of a girl who brought me food and water.

They don’t realize that having them in the cabin with me would’ve driven me to greater despair and desperation. I’m the oldest. Back then I was much bigger and stronger, too. It’s my responsibility to keep my baby brothers safe.

Pietas et unitas. Loyalty and unity. It doesn’t merely mean being devoted to the family and putting on a united front. It’s doing one’s duty to the family. And I’m a Huxley to the core.

I look at my brothers with helpless affection, wishing I could erase the memory and its effect on them. But the only thing I can do is tell them the truth so they can be on their guard. “Vincent wants to see us. All of us. I guess he’s decided he really misses his grandchildren now that he’s facing his mortality.”

“Fuck him. I’m not his grandson,” Josh spits.

“When was he ever a grandfather to us anyway? He sided with Mom.” Bryce’s tone says there could have been no greater betrayal.

“He told Mom and Harvey whoever can bring us to him first can take over the family business.”

“No way. Those sexist Nesovian assholes will never accept her.”

“But it’s enough to shake Harvey’s legitimacy. There are bound to be others who want to usurp Harvey and take over,” I point out. “He believes Mom’s going to do whatever it takes to get what she wants this time—to bring us ‘back into the family.’”

“You mean what she did twenty-two years ago wasn’t bad enough?” Josh sneers.

I shrug. “He seems pretty certain she’ll throw women at us this time.”

“Because that’s what he would do. Drugging you using Soledad? Seriously?” Bryce snorts. “I want Mom to escalate until whatever we do becomes justifiable self-defense. Although I wouldn’t mind fucking up Harvey either.” The sharp gleam in his eyes says he’d love nothing more than to strangle both our mother and uncle. “Why couldn’t our mom be an orgy-loving, megalomaniac Hollywood movie producer?”

I laugh. It’s a description that fits our cousin Huxley Lasker’s father to a tee.

Bryce turns to me. “What about your wife, though? Is she, you know, safe? Not somebody Mom or Harvey got to manipulate you?”

“So far, so good. But it won’t matter even if she isn’t.” The memory of Lareina’s softness and sweet smile fleets through my mind, creating a sudden wave of hesitation. I forcibly remind myself of the purpose of our marriage and harden my jaw. “I plan to get rid of her as soon as I get the promotion.”

* * *

After my brothers leave, I realize I’m out of sticky notes. Weird. Thought I had a new pad.

Cynthia isn’t available, since she took off early to visit her mother in the hospital. The poor old woman had a heart attack a couple of days ago, and my assistant is worried sick. The surgery apparently went as well as it could, given the patient’s age and condition, but it doesn’t sound promising.

I get off my butt and go to the supply room, opening the doors to three cabinets without finding what I want. The shelves are neatly organized, but where are the sticky notes? There only seem to be legal pads, pens, spiral notebooks—

“Hi. Can I help you with something?”

I start and turn around. A lithe blonde smiles at me, her moss-green eyes bright and friendly. Her hair is cropped to her shoulders and cascades a bit messily, half wavy and uncontrollable. A white sleeveless halter-top shows her slender shoulders and arms, and pink slacks fall straight from her waist. A pair of beige shoes with the tips worn white peek from under the hems. Not a lawyer. Probably office staff.

“Did I scare you?” Her smile grows a bit apologetic. “Sorry, didn’t mean to. Just thought you might need some help after I saw you open all those cabinets.”

“I’m looking for sticky notes.” My tone is cool but polite. She seems cordial enough, but something about her rubs me the wrong way. It’s possible I’m just paranoid after what Harvey and Aunt Jeremiah told me.

Not that I think Harvey or Mom would use the woman before me to bring me back to the family. The firm does background checks before hiring anybody. If there’s any tie between her and the Dunkels, HR would’ve sent her a polite form rejection letter.

“Oh. Right here.” She walks past me, her floral and citrus perfume tickling my nose. Not a hint of cigarettes. Interesting. She has a raspy voice that might be due to smoking.

She reaches into a cabinet I opened just moments ago, then stretches, pushing her arm deep inside and fumbling. As she does so, the thin center strip of her top shifts, revealing an old burn scar on her left shoulder blade.

Everything inside me freezes as I stare at the white, puckered patch of flesh. Is she…

Queen?

Her eyes aren’t dual-colored, but sometimes colors change as people grow older. My heart starts to race. I flex and unflex my hands as little tremors start in my gut and spread all the way to my extremities.

Finally.

Even though excitement pulls at me, caution wins out. There have been women pretending to be Queen before. But none of them ever had something this concrete. The exact nature of Queen’s injury isn’t something I’ve shared with anybody.

Still, it could be a coincidence. With Mom and Harvey back in my life, ready to mess with me and my brothers, I have to be extra careful.

The blonde lets out a satisfied huff, pulls her arm out of the cabinet and turns to face me. “Here.” In her outstretched hand is a sticky note pad.

I don’t immediately take it. “How did you get that scar on your back?”

She blinks, then turns red. “You saw?” A hint of reproach ripples in her tone.

“Sorry, but yes. I mean, it’s there.”

Her flush deepens. “I got it as a child in a forest fire.”

“What were you doing in a burning forest as a child?”

“My family went camping, and we got caught.”

“I see. Well, Southern California is kind of famous for fires.”

“No, it was up in Oregon.”

My heart races faster, but I manage to keep my voice steady. “Anyone else get hurt?”

“No. Thank God.”

“So you guys were just at the edge of it?”

“I’m not sure. But I’ve been told my voice turned raspy from smoke inhalation.” She frowns and gives me a strange look, as though she’s just noticed how weird I’m behaving toward her. “Did that satisfy your curiosity?” Her tone is far less friendly now. Just polite.

“Just one more thing. Do you remember anything unusual about the fire? Did you meet anybody while camping?”

Her expression grows more cautious. “No. Honestly, I hardly remember anything about what happened. Likely due to trauma. It wasn’t the best experience.”

Disappointment buries the excitement. Another dead end. But then, why should I expect anything different? “Of course.”

“So. Are you done with your cross-examination?”

I force a tight smile. “Sorry about that. I lost a friend in a forest fire when I was young, so I was… I apologize.”

She clears her throat, the wariness in her expression easing. “It’s okay.” She places the sticky note pad in my hand. “Here’s what you wanted. Anything else?”

I press the pad of my thumb against the sharp corner. The little pricking sensation says I’m not dreaming. “What’s your name?”

“Kenna Miller.”

“I’m Ares.”

“I know.” She slowly relaxes into a grin. “You’re famous. Anything else you need?”

“No.”

“In that case…” She walks out. “Toodle-oo.”

I stare at her back, trying to see the scar that’s now hidden again by her top. As unsettling sensations swirl in my gut, I realize elation isn’t the only thing filling my heart at the possibility that I might’ve found Queen.