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“So why don’t you just offer the property now? I’ll pay for it. And we don’t get married,” she said, wishing she felt the confidence she exuded. She was doing well in her business, and her home was paid off. She even had a generous amount in her retirement savings, but she didn’t have hundreds of thousands of dollars just laying around to pay for some property that wouldn’t even be hers at the end. Still, she’d sacrifice her financial security if she had to.
“Because I still need a bride.”
“Why don’t you do it the old-fashioned way? Meet a woman who puts up with your ass, propose, the whole nine yards?” A guy like him had to find someone, right? She sized him up. A woman had to have chill running through her veins not to appreciate his intense blue eyes, the way his tanned skin accented his cheekbones and, as his gaze slid lower, she even appreciated his muscly neck. She’d seen a lot of good-looking men. Dated a few of them. But Troy had a sexy vibe that should come with a roaring siren. A regular warning sign wouldn’t do.
The amusement in his eyes didn’t touch his lips. “That would take time and effort, two things I can’t spare right now. Besides, our marriage would be simply a formality to get me what I want.”
She leaned closer. “Which is?”
“I can’t tell you,” he said in a low voice that sent shivers down her spine.
Did he mean that because it’d be safer if she didn’t know? She bit her lower lip. Maybe it was best she didn’t know. Who knew what his type was capable of? A man who had to rent a wife didn’t sound like a caring, nice guy. “Or you’ll have to break my arm?” she asked, finding it impossible not to retort.
“Oh no. I plan on keeping every delectable part of you right where it belongs,” he said, his gaze traveling down her body and heating her skin.
She chastised herself for reacting to him. Troy embodied all the wrong decisions about men she’d made in life. His good looks were probably the best thing about him. How else could she describe someone who hired muscle heads to collect money? “Great, so at least we have that goal in common.”
“Excellent. So I take it as a yes?”
She rubbed her hands together, thinking. A fake marriage to a nice, caring man could be the recipe for heartbreak. But a guy whose intentions she knew upfront, not so much. “I don’t know… what guarantee do I have you’ll save my brother?”
“My word. I only tell you what I can do or what you can know. That said, I’m not going to run to the O’Donnells and make this deal today or tomorrow. I need for you to marry me first.”
Her stomach knotted. What guarantee did she have he wouldn’t screw her in the end? “That’s blackmail.”
He drummed his fingers on his heavy oak desk. “No. It’s smart negotiating. If I clear it for your brother, what guarantee do I have you won’t back away from our deal?”
She rolled her eyes. A part of her reminded herself that her brother had screwed up first, so she didn’t have the upper hand. Especially if Troy’s statement that the O’Donnells would go after her or her mother was true. Was it really worth it to leave it to chance? “So I’m supposed to trust you, but you can’t trust me?”
“You need this more than I do.”
She tasted bile at the back of her throat. Couldn’t argue with him there. “And you’ll gamble on my brother’s life.”
“Maybe. But you won’t.”
Crap. The bastard excelled at negotiating. Hadn’t taken long for him to figure her out and know how desperate she was. I may have helped by rushing in with no concrete plan. “Okay, fine.”
“Great. Now go home and pack up, beautiful. We’re going to Vegas.”
“Vegas?”
“Yes. In and out. We get the marriage out of the way. Your brother is hiding, so next time he calls you, tell him not to return until I’ve talked to Conor O’Donnell. If he needs cash, I can send it to him.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. Was he used to using his debit card to fix everything? “Money isn’t the problem. I have my life and—”
“Which is why we hop on the private jet, get married and return. Of course you’ll have to move to my place tomorrow so we put up a good act.”
She quivered. She’d have to move… to his place? “A good act for who?”
“I’ll tell you when the time comes.”
Too many secrets. What if this guy did drugs? Getting involved with him might be more dangerous than helping Miguel. What about Mom? She wouldn’t be in Santa Barbara forever. She and Aunt Celia would kill each other if they stayed under the same roof longer than a few weeks. They could only stand each other for so long. “I’m not sure about this…” she said more to herself than to him.
“You already agreed,” he said. “Lara, I’m sorry you’re in this situation.”
“Yes, I bet you’re heartbroken over it,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
“My solution will be beneficial for both of us. And for your brother most of all. I promise I’ll give you and your family protection, which is what you need right now.”
