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I turn on Hunter. "You’re the only one who hasn’t speculated as to what they’re thinking. Care to give me your opinion, as well?"
Hunter smirks. "Oh, I know what they’re thinking."
"Fuck you," I say without heat. "Because the three of us" —I glance at Hunter, then at Declan— "belonged to the same fraternity... I know you guys would never betray me. And that old man, Kane" —I jerk my chin in JJ’s direction— "has too much riding on the 7A Club to ever share anything outside these walls. Not to mention, Adrian comes from theCosa Nostra,so he knows the cost of revealing a secret is worse than death. Plus, I don’t think he cares one way or the other who I’m marrying."
"I don’t," Adrian confirms.
"Either way, it’s not a big fucking deal." I roll my shoulders to relieve the twinge that seems to have settled in there since my conversation with the irritating wedding planner yesterday.
"You mean you have to produce an offspring?" Declan murmurs.
Hunter chuckles.
JJ’s smirk widens.
Adrian grabs a cigar and snips off the end. Then he lights it up and hands it over to me. "Double congratulations are in order then?"
"Shut the fuck up." Nevertheless, I accept the cigar and jam it between my lips. It’s only the question of an heir. The issue of my issue. One I intend to fulfill. And thanks to technology, I won’t have to touch that infuriating woman. I simply have to donate my sperm and use her as the receptacle. With the help of the best doctors I have on standby, I’ll deliver on my father’s requirements in no time.
Hunter pulls out his snow-white handkerchief and snaps it out before holding it out to me.
"The fuck is that for?" I growl.
"You’re sweating, ol’ chap."
"Am not." I glower at him and begrudgingly accept the piece of cloth to mop my brow.
"Not to worry, ol’ chap. This will all be over very soon, and you’ll have a wife on one arm and a bonny wee babe in the other," JJ offers.
The pain in my shoulder intensifies. I draw in a breath, and my lungs burn. "Fuck this shit." I thrust the handkerchief in Hunter’s direction, then jump to my feet. "I gotta go see a man about a dog."
* * *
A few minutes later, I stare at my reflection in the mirror in the gents’ room. Am I nervous about the upcoming nuptials? No, I’m not. Why should I be? I have nothing to lose. I hold all the cards in this transaction. I hold the power. All she has to do is turn up, get married, then get impregnated. And she’ll go through with it because she needs this as much as I do, for different reasons, of course. But I saw how her eyes lit up when I laid out the benefits of marrying me. It always boils down to the same thing.
My money and the power I wield influence people so much, they can no longer see me. I am the means to an end. I learned that early on, with the few relationships I allowed myself to indulge in. I also learned that I could remove myself from the equation.
As long as the benefits from my wealth are there for the taking, I—the person—no longer count. Whether it’s related to business or in my private life, it’s what I can bring to the table that sways people. Which is exactly what I’ve been building toward for most of my life. So why should this transaction with her be any different? It’s perfect, actually. I am the conclusion of my own making. The net result of my negotiations. The summary of a business deal I structured, leveraged, and delivered, with a massive profit margin. So why does it feel so wrong? So empty? Why do I feel discombobulated?
The door opens behind me. I hear footsteps before Hunter steps up to the urinal in the far corner. By the time he walks over to the sink next to mine, I’ve washed my hands and dried them.
"It’s okay to have second thoughts about your wedding," he murmurs as he holds his hands under the stream of water.
"I’m not having second thoughts."I can’t afford to have second thoughts.I’ve planned it all out to the last detail. Sure, the face of the bride I’m going to marry is different. So what? The finale of this story will be the same.
"So why is your face pale?" He reaches for a paper towel, and the tap turns off automatically.
"Must be the dim lighting in here."
"Hmm." He dries his hands and tosses the piece of paper into the receptacle. "My first day in Oxford, you saved my ass from being toast when I was a scrawny freshman."
"Only because I was feeling charitable that day. I’d have done the same if you’d been a dog."
He laughs. "So generous with your comparisons."
I blow out a breath. "Okay, that was unwarranted."
"See, this is what I mean. You like to be seen as an unfeeling gazillionaire, and trust me, I get it. I need to keep up a front when it comes to my profession, too, but I know there’s something more in there. And it’s okay to share with friends. We’re in your corner, man."
