Page 9 of The Contract Marriage

“Cancun,” I say.

He frowns. “That’s so plebeian. At least go for Laucala Island.”

“It’s Dietrich Mateschitz’s son’s private island. Totally exclusive, and only like fifty-k a night,” Brielle adds, in case I didn’t know. Or maybe it’s for Tyler’s benefit because he immediately forgets her toes and straightens his back.

She opens her mouth again, but before she can continue, Mrs. Moore appears to clear the table, replacing the previous dishes with eggs Benedict and wagyu beef sliders on brioche. My eyebrows twitch at the mismatched menu, but I hide my reaction and turn to Brielle once she’s gone. “You were saying?”

“I think you should go there. Tyler deserves it.”

I press my lips together to stop myself from bursting out laughing. Tyler deserves it? I put on a pitiful expression I’ve mastered over the years. “I’d love to, but how am I going to afford that? I only get a pittance from the trust.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Dad said he’s sending me for my honeymoon when I get married,” Brielle adds, looking at me with feigned guilelessness.

I can practically hear the gears in Tyler’s head whirring as he soaks in the information. Hugh, Deena and Brielle are doing everything they can to show Tyler that choosing me won’t give him the kind of life he expects from snagging an heiress. After all, it’s in their best interest to ensure I never marry.

Although Deena grumbles endlessly about the “measly million”—ten percent of which must go to me—they get to live in the mansion for free. Plus, nobody can claim they live poorly on nine hundred thousand dollars a year.

That’s why Brielle has been relentless about stealing my boyfriends—and now has her sights set on Tyler. I still remember how shocked she was when I introduced him as my fiancé; I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hide my amusement. She doesn’t know that she isn’t the only one getting married in a couple of weeks. I will be too—as soon as I decide on a groom. It isn’t easy to find a man who fits all my criteria: emotionally detached, honest and without any bad habits, such as gambling or an inability to control himself. Brielle excels at baiting people, especially men, and I can’t have a fiancé who’ll fall into her traps.

“Excuse me. I need to use the powder room,” I say. These people need some time alone with Tyler to seal the deal.

I step out and linger in the hall for a few minutes to make it look like I’m actually using the bathroom. Deena has kept most of the original paintings on the walls because they’re both priceless and collectible. She wouldn’t dare touch them or try to sell them, lest the trustee find out. Those three parasites live in fear of their money being cut off.

I start to return quietly to the dining room, then slow down as voices drift from inside.

“So all this is really yours?” Tyler’s voice.

“Obviously,” Brielle says.

“That’s why we live here while Olivia is on her own. We give her an allowance so she doesn’t have to struggle,” Hugh says, piling it on.

“She really doesn’t need to live in such a horrible dump. This place is big enough for everyone. Fifteen thousand square feet, plus a guest house if she prefers more privacy.” Deena sniffles like it breaks her heart.

I cock an eyebrow. When did Century City become a dump? I bought that penthouse fair and square, paid cash for it and put it under an LLC so these worms can’t link its ownership to me easily.

“That’s really, uh, unfortunate.” Tyler clears his throat. “I guess I’ll just have to shower her with more care.”

Oh Tyler. I chose you for your greed. Don’t develop a conscience now.

I walk in with a bright smile, as though I haven’t heard anything. “Hey, what exciting conversation are you guys having?”

“How come you never took me to your place?” Tyler asks, unable to hide the greedy evaluation lurking in his eyes.

I glance at the three before answering him. “Well… Nobody’s ever visited. It’s really cramped, especially with all my stuff piled up inside.”

“Ah.” Tyler’s voice is soft. But the math is finished.

I look away to hide the triumph welling in my heart. Let the bride swap begin.

Chapter Four

Liam

The morning sky couldn’t be bluer, or the breeze sweeter, as the quartet plays “Here Comes the Bride” in Rhys’s immaculate garden. His intended, Max, walks down the aisle with her aunt from New Hampshire. She looks dazzling in a white empire-waist dress, her eyes glowing with love. In a tux as white as her gown, Rhys smiles like he’s just won the lottery. Kinda funny since his private equity firm generates profits equivalent to those jackpots every year.

But Rhys deserves the best. As the oldest of us brothers, he’s always stood like a shield in front of us. He was the first one we called when we got into trouble—not our parents, not the family attorney. He really is the father figure.

Not that we don’t have a father—Auric Kingswood sits in the groom’s section, looking properly paternal although he has no interest in parenting. My mom Elita is next to him. They created Rhys, Gideon and me. Roarke, Finn and Xavier are children born from some of Dad’s numerous affairs, while Silas is from Mom’s fling with some Italian flame. My parents flaunt their numerous lovers, and take full advantage of the family’s multigenerational wealth and power to insulate themselves from consequences.