“Fuck it.” I yell the words, get up, and throw my phone. It lands on the carpet and skitters away, under the drinks cabinet. I glare at it, tempted to help myself to a brandy, but I need to keep a clear head.
“Marcus,” Wren says from behind. “It’s okay.”
I turn, hands on hips, my chest heaving. “How could it possibly be okay?”
“I mean it can be sorted,” she says calmly. “You just need to be open and honest. Your father gave you an ultimatum. He was threatening to sell the family company. It means everything to you. Of course you wouldn’t want to lose it. So you did the only thing you could do—you asked a friend to marry you. I wanted a baby. You needed an heir. It was an arrangement we were both happy with. But if they want you to end it, I understand.”
I feel as if someone has plunged their hand into my chest and is crushing my heart. She has no idea the impact that bad publicity can have. A company’s success relies on its investors’ trust. Lose that, and the shares begin to fall. Then come the questions, the speculation, the nervous calls from shareholders. Deals stall, and lenders hesitate. Everyone waits to see whether you’re about to sink, and that hesitation alone can drag you under.
In business, perception is everything. Doubt, when it sets in, spreads faster than the truth.
But what hurts more than anything is the fact that Wren will throw away what we have so easily. In fact, I’m sure she’s relieved at the thought of it all coming to a head. She never believed I wanted her.
“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks. “I can explain why I said yes and back up your story.”
“That won’t be necessary.” I go over to the drinks cabinet and pick up my phone. “I need to get changed,” I say curtly, and I stride out of the room and down to the bedroom.
After stripping off my casual clothes, I rifle in the wardrobe, conscious of Wren appearing by the door. Although I didn’t bring any suits with me, I keep a few at the farmhouse, just in case.
I pull on a white shirt and do up the buttons, then choose my smartest navy suit and begin to put on the trousers.
“Like armor,” she murmurs with a small smile.
I’m not in the mood for jokes. I turn the collar of the shirt up, choose a tie, and put it on, doing a smart Windsor knot. Then I tug on the jacket. I stare at my reflection. She’s right—it is like armor. I already feel more able to go into battle.
I sit on the bed to put on my Oxford shoes. “Can I ask you one thing?” I say.
She nods.
Getting up, I pick up my watch and walk over to her as I put it on. “Will you stay until I come back?”
She looks up into my eyes. I don’t know whether she’d thought of leaving or not, but she gives a little nod. “I promise.”
Relief lifts my heart. “I’ll be back later.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I’ll be back tonight,” I state firmly. “I’m going to give Ruth your number. She’ll adopt you if I leave you unattended toolong. And Jacob’s. He’ll make sure you don’t sneak off back to Auckland without telling anyone.”
“I’m not leaving,” she insists.
I hesitate. In the distance, I can hear the helicopter heading for the landing area. “I’m so sorry about this,” I say. It’s excruciating and unfair for her to have her private life splashed on the internet. “You’re my wife,” I add, cupping her cheek with a hand. “And nothing is going to change that.”
She doesn’t reply. She just looks into my eyes and doesn’t fight me when I give her a long kiss.
“I’ll see you soon,” I say eventually when I lift my head.
She walks with me to the front door. “I’m so sorry about this.”
I stop on the doorstep and turn to face her. Part of me is terrified she’s not going to be here when I get back, but I can’t force her to stay unless I handcuff her to the bed.
Briefly, I consider it. Then I mutter under my breath and head off down the drive.
The helicopter is waiting on the large gravel area behind the barn. I jog across to it, conscious of the stiff breeze from the rotor blades tugging at my hair and clothes, and climb into the passenger seat.
Caesar holds up a hand to say hi. I close the door and nod, then put on my seat belt and headphones, and adjust the mic.
“Hey,” he says, his voice coming through the headphones. “Sorry about this.”
