Page 32 of The Contract Marriage

Liam and I head out together. “You go ahead, and I’ll follow in my car,” I say, needing to get some alone time to restore my equilibrium. Never forget: this isn’t about love, just the justice Mom and Pochi are due.

“No, we should go together. Your car isn’t in the system yet.” He looks slightly abashed. “Sorry, should’ve taken care of that before. But I’ll have Frederich deal with it and bring your car to the house later.”

“Who?”

“The resident butler-slash-majordomo. You’ll love him.”

Can’t insist now, and not worth the argument. “Okay. Let me get my stuff.” I open my trunk and pull out a black clamshell suitcase.

He looks at it. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. Not like I need to bring my own furniture, right?”

“No, but…” Hesitation for a moment, then a tinge of disappointment flashes in his eyes.

What’s this about? “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

He takes the suitcase and loads it into his Spectre. The coupe is stunningly beautiful—and spotless, like he just had it washed. I don’t recall it being so shiny before.

Reluctant affection warms my heart. This marriage isn’t the most traditional, but he wants to make the best of it. I should play along and make him happy. He deserves at least that much.

Like a gentleman, he opens the door for me. I climb into the car, then arrange my skirt, my fingers gliding over the smooth ivory silk. I’m glad I picked the most bridal-looking outfit from my closet. Simon suggested wearing something bright because vivid shades suit me, but I wanted to put on white, like every normal bride on her happy day. I place the dahlias on my lap, run my fingers along the petals and enjoy the ticklish sensation. The gorgeous red stone winks at me as though to say, “Everything’s going to be fine!”

The Spectre’s electric engine stays quiet for the drive, but my heart pounds like a deafening drum in my head. I’ve researched his family and business, to figure out who I need to win over and how, in order to make the marriage look as legit as possible to outsiders. I’ve definitely stepped on some toes by having the courthouse wedding without informing or inviting any of his family and need to make it up somehow. But I’ve intentionally avoided looking into his house. I didn’t want to act like a bride full of anticipation about her bridal home.

Think of it like a hotel to stay in. Nothing sentimental. I’m sure it’ll be nice and comfortable, just like any other decent place.

Except… I steal a quick glance at Liam. Nothing about his smile looks temporary or unromantic. If he were alone he’d probably be humming…and I’d have to be blind to miss the way he looks at me. My head says I should discourage him, but the desire to go along and be a real wife until our contract ends tugs at my heart.

After a little over an hour of fighting the Friday rush-hour traffic, Liam pulls into a private driveway winding through a shockingly lush garden. Gnarled olive trees rise over a profusion of purple lavender and tall rosemary hedges. As the Spectre makes a turn, a cutting garden to the side comes into view, reminding me of the one Mom used to nurture until Deena ripped everything out to plant tiger lilies instead. Pink, orange and white dahlias bloom in rows like royalty above others that can’t quite make themselves seen over a thigh-high rock wall.

I look down at the dahlias in my lap. Are they from his garden? Did he cut them and tie them into a bouquet before coming to the courthouse? I recall the gardenias he gave me last week. That bouquet seemed pretty rustic—something homemade, not from a professional florist.

A sweet pang goes through me at the notion. It’s just so incredibly thoughtful in ways I can’t even begin to describe. Mom used to cut flowers from her garden and make little bouquets and crowns for me. It’s almost like I’ve slipped back to that happier time. I wish I could just enjoy it, rather than grieve for what I’ve lost.

Not lost. Taken from me. I clench my hands. I’ll take what they value the most in return. It’s only fair.

This is the end game, Olivia. My anxiety isn’t about the marriage, but the final moves I have to execute properly. And the baby. I place a hand over my belly as I gaze at Liam’s garden. If I didn’t need a baby in order to kick Hugh, Deena and Brielle off the gravy train, I would never bring one into the world, not when it might not be safe.

My clammy hand curls into a fist over my stomach. But since I have to… Nothing less than giving them the kind of childhood I had before Mom passed away will do. And unlike her, I plan to be cautious enough that I don’t ever leave myself vulnerable or put my baby in pain.

They’ll never suffer the kind of life I had after Mom’s death.

Liam stops the car in front of a huge mansion—at least as large as the Whitmore estate, if not bigger. I open the door and step out. The sound of waves fills the briny air.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Liam says with a deep, dramatic bow.

Recalling what he said about his place at the lawyer’s office, I have to laugh. “Humble, huh?” I look around. “Well… I guess this will do.”

“Glad it meets your expectations.” He grins.

I look up and see a small flock of willets wheel through a sky burning gold in the sunset. Closing my eyes, I inhale the sea breeze and feel every stale weight leave my heart. “This is amazing. I was expecting something that felt like a hotel or a model home or something, but this is like…”

“Like…?”

“A slice of paradise.” The words tumble out, but they sound right. This place is perfect—secluded and safe. Despite the grand size, it already feels like a home, a place where I can be at peace.