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Cole and Sam took the papers and even his sister turned from her perch by the TV.
He took a mental step back. Knowing his father this could go either way.
What if he didn’t have to find a bride? Did his father come to his senses and realize you couldn’t force love and marriage? God, he hoped so. He didn’t need that kind of pressure.
“You no longer have to find a bride in six months or risk losing your company,” started the lawyer.
The audible sigh of relief made its way around the room.
“No, no, no, Mr. Blackwood. You don’t understand.” His lawyer came to the edge of his chair, dashing a meaty hand from side to side.
Marshall gritted his teeth until his molars threatened revenge. “Then enlighten me, please, Mr. Cruise. I’m at my rope’s end.”
“You have to find a bride in two weeks, by your thirty-seventh birthday or the company will be dismantled and sold off. Period.”
His brothers and sister openly gaped at the man. Beside them, his mom looked ghostly.
Marshall lifted his chin in silent...what? Acceptance? Disbelief? The only thing he knew for sure at the moment had nothing to do with him and everything about his family. He could sink the Blackwood name with one false move. Fight the tide their father threw him in or swim with everyone in tow.
It took a colossal amount of control to not say every fucking curse word in the book and then invent a few the occasion called for. Instead, he kicked back in his chair and turned to Houston’s simmering skyline.
The irony of his father’s legacy versus the demands of his will wasn’t lost on Marshall. “Well happy fucking birthday to me.”
