Was I lying through my teeth?
Sort of. Not really.
“Her name’s Delaney Fisher,” I said when it became clear that everyone was waiting for more. “She’s from Seattle. Sheruns a shop called Meráki Fashion. She’s smart. Nice. Hot as fuck, obviously.”
It was basically all that I could remember—or at least, it was all I could tell them that was remotely appropriate. Somehow, I didn’t think my family members would appreciate the fact that Laney had the nicest ass on either side of the Rockies or the way she mewled like a kitten when I kissed her with full tongue.
Liam was already on his phone, pulling up information. Out of everyone in the room, he was the most likely to know I was full of shit, and, like any good lawyer, he was going to check every detail of my story until I admitted it.
“Meráki Fashion,” he read aloud. “Small ethical brand founded by Antonia Karolides in 2002 until her death last year. Current creative director, Delaney Fisher. Gross revenue last year was around a hundred and twenty grand. Declining value due to increased competition from?—”
“We get it,” I interrupted, slightly annoyed that I hadn’t already asked my own assistant to pull up this information. “She’s not a billionaire. So what?”
“So nothing.” Dad was still studying me with those calculating eyes. “As long as she doesn’t have a record, the real question is this: is she presentable?”
Presentable. Like a show dog.
“Holy shit, he wasn’t lying. Sheisgorgeous.” Shea was scrolling on her phone, too.
“Shea, don’t curse,” Violeta chided in her thick Spanish accent before downing half her martini. “It’s not ladylike.”
“Mother, please. We’re busy.” Shea flipped her phone around to show a profile picture of Laney from the shop's website. She was up to her ears (literally) in a thick cable-knit sweater, her dark hair piled on top of her head, her face framed by a pair of gold hoops that made her green eyes sing through the screen.
Damn. My wife really was a stunner.
“What can I say?” I relaxed back into my seat. “I have good taste. She’s also honest, funny, and intelligent. Everything Owen’s favorite columnist says we’re not. We might have eloped, but she’ll be an asset.”
God. I sounded just like these fuckers. Frankly, it made my stomach turn. Or maybe I hadn’t eaten enough today.
Dad took Shea’s phone and examined the picture for a long time before handing it back and turning to Liam. “Background check?”
“Already sent to Carver,” he replied.
I frowned. The family’s personal P.I. was ruthless. And also an asshole. “That’s not necessary. I vouch for her. That’s all you need to know.”
“Everyone’s got skeletons, Ronan,” Dad replied. “It’s just a question of what they are and how we deal with them. But in the meantime, good work.”
“What?” Owen’s face was purple now. “Dad, you can’t be serious. He met her five fucking minutes ago?—”
“No, Imarriedher five fucking minutes ago,” I interrupted as I took out a cigarette again and started flipping it around my fingers. “If you’re going to be irate, be accurate.”
“Owen, shut up,” Dad snapped. “You complained about stability? Well, now Ronan’s actually married to a real person with a real business. Not some socialite looking for a payout. Not some actress trying to break into our world. A real woman—and might I add, he’s the only one of you that much closer to giving me the next generation to solidify my legacy.”
“Are youfuckingkidding me?” Owen wasn’t done exploding. “He’s so full of shit! You can’t seriously be considering?—”
“I’m not considering!” Dad's growl was nearing a roar now. “I’ve decided, and you’ll fucking deal with it. Ronan will be appointed interim CEO, and every person in this roomwillsupport that appointment. After that, we’ll tackle the Huntington problem.”
There wasn’t even a question of our compliance. Not a hint of uncertainty. One by one, every person in the room nodded their heads.
Dad turned back to me, leaning heavily on his cane. “Get your wife to Boston. You might have married her quietly, but the reveal needs to be public. Press. Photos. The whole dog and pony show.”
For which she would need to bepresentable.
More importantly, she needed to be made aware that we were going to remain married.
Fuck.
“She has a life in Seattle,” I tried. “A business. Responsibilities. We’ll be living apart.”
