The Reluctant Bride Read online

  THE RELUCTANT BRIDE

  Monica Murphy

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  About Midnight Dynasty

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Perry

  I enter the boardroom at Halcyon right on time. Acting like I’ve got my shit together, like nothing is bothering me.

  My brother Winston—the oldest Constantine, the one who runs Halcyon, our family business—sits at the head of the sleek black marble table, our mother in the chair to his right. Their heads are bent close as they speak in low tones.

  The whispering won’t fuck with my attitude. It’s a Monday and I usually drag ass after a particularly spectacular weekend, but today I refuse to give him that satisfaction.

  Despite the fact that Winny called the meeting at seven in the morning. The only time he could manage to fit us in, he said via a terse text.

  Yes, even his texts are terse. Dry and demanding and with no emotion whatsoever. My brother used to hate me. Then switched to barely tolerating me once I started working for him. Now I’m pretty sure he likes me.

  Maybe.

  “There you are,” our mother calls when she looks up and sees me. She immediately rises, waiting for my approach, and when I get close enough, we hug and I press a quick kiss to her cheek.

  Caroline Constantine is a beautiful woman. She has aged gracefully. Dresses impeccably. Controls the family with what she believes is an iron fist.

  No one listens to her. Definitely not Winston. He does whatever the hell he wants, as well he should. He’s running everything that has to do with the Constantines and he does it well—even better than our father.

  None of my brothers or sisters listen to our mother either. Not even my younger siblings. They’re rebellious and completely ignore her demands.

  My youngest sister, Tinsley, is in a relationship with a priest, for Christ’s sake.

  The only one who listens, who does as she bids, who is constantly trying to earn her approval in any way possible is…

  Me.

  Fuck, it’s easy to make her happy. She dotes on me. Says I remind her of my father, though no way can that be true.

  That’s Winston. He’s the one who looks and acts like our long-dead dad. I’m the more handsome and charming, younger version of my father. The one they wish they could all be.

  But I humor Mother and let her believe that yes, I’m his spitting image in both looks and mannerisms, when in all actuality, I’m nothing like him. He was ruthless and business savvy and brave. Much like Winston is now.

  For some reason, Mother still indulges me every chance she gets, even though I’m a grown-ass man. Maybe it was because our father’s death hit me so hard and she has guilt over it? I was an angst-riddled teen who wouldn’t stop crying. My younger brother, Keaton, acted as if he was completely unaffected, much like Winston.

  I wish I had a harder heart like them.

  Only a few years ago, I still acted the fool because that’s what everyone expected of me. Why try to grow up when everyone believes you’re an immature asshole?

  So that’s what I did. I partied. I spent money that I didn’t earn. I fucked a lot of women. I bought stupid cars.

  I still own that orange Chevelle, though I garaged it recently. I looked ridiculous in my custom Brioni suits, climbing out of that orange monstrosity every day in the Halcyon parking garage, earning stares from coworkers. Earning mockery from my older brother who made fun of that car every chance he got.

  I bought a far more respectable vehicle recently. A sleek white Lamborghini.

  “Good morning,” I say as I take a step back from my mother’s embrace. Can’t linger too long or Winny will say something snide and rude.

  He doesn’t say a word beyond a nod of acknowledgement at my arrival. His expression is stern, yet impassive. I never know what he’s thinking, and it’s disconcerting. I’ve learned from that though, and do my damnedest to wear the same expression when I’m dealing with Halcyon business for Win.

  Or when I’m trying to get out of a sticky situation with a woman. That happens more often than I care to admit.

  “Have a seat, darling,” Mother says, indicating the chair on the other side of Winston. I do as she says, settling into the leather chair that’s more comfortable than the one I sit in at my desk every damn day. “How was your weekend?”

  I can’t tell her it was full of debauchery that included too much alcohol and too many women, but I avoid the paparazzi at the more popular clubs to keep it under wraps. Instead I smile at her and say, “It was fine.”

  Winston snorts. I’m sure he knows what I was up to.

  Wonder if he misses it.

  If I had his hot wife to come home to every evening, I wouldn’t miss that lifestyle at all.

  “That’s nice.” Mother smiles, revealing straight white teeth that nearly blind me. Looks like someone just visited the dentist. “I hear you’ve been given new projects at Halcyon.”

  I chance a look at Winston but he’s not paying attention to us. Too busy tapping away on his phone. “I have.” I try to tamp down my excitement before my brother calls me out for behaving like a hyperactive puppy. “I’m handling all the angry calls that come into the office.”

  Mother frowns. “Angry calls?”

  I nod. “We piss off a lot of people in this city. There’s a lot of damage control going on. And not always of the—violent variety.”

  The knowing look on her face is obvious. She’s just as ruthless as Winston. Swear to God that’s where he got it from, not Dad.

  Clearing his throat, Winston sits up straight, resting his arms on top of the table. “Enough with the pleasantries. Let’s get down to business.”

  “Winston,” Mother murmurs.

  I frown at the both of them. “What exactly is this business we’re discussing this early in the morning anyway?”

  Mother clears her throat as well, glancing over at Winston before she turns her attention on me. “It has to do with…you.”

  I frown. “What about me?”

  “Perry, darling. You’re not getting any younger.” Her expression is dour, as if she’s discussing something that displeases her. “It’s time for you to settle down.”

  I snort. So does Winston.

  “I’m only twenty-four,” I remind her. “Winston didn’t marry until he was forty.”

  “Thirty-nine,” he corrects.

  “Whatever,” I say to him, returning my attention to our mother. “There’s no one I want to settle down with anyway, so I can’t.”

  “Ah, but you can.” Her smile is serene. “I’ve found someone for you, Perry. And you’re going to absolutely adore her.”

  Wait a minute.

  Back the fuck up.

  “You’ve found someone for me?” My frown deepens. “What exactly do you mean?”

  The room is quiet. Not even my brother says anything, which isn’t normal.

  “Jesus, just cut to the chase.
Put him out of his misery. I have a call to take in—” Winston checks his watch. “—twenty minutes.”

  “Winston, please.” Mother sighs, her hand fluttering around her face. As if she’s…

  Nervous?

  “If you don’t tell him, I will,” my brother growls, his gaze cutting to mine, his lips parting as if he’s about to speak.

  But she beats him to the punch.

  “You’re going to marry her,” Mother says, her voice so quiet I almost don’t hear her. “It’s already been decided.”

  Say the fuck what?

  I can’t help it.

  I start to laugh, because this is unbelievable.

  “Great joke, really.” I glance at the both of them. Mother appears anxious. Winston seems frustrated—and even sympathetic.

  And he’s never sympathetic. Especially toward me.

  My laughter dies, and I sober up fast. “You’re serious.”

  Mother nods at Winston who picks up a slim black folder I didn’t even notice and offers it to me. “All the details are in here,” he says.

  I snatch the folder from his fingers and drop it on the table with a loud slap, flipping it open to find a thick stack of papers full of legal jargon and a bunch of bullshit. I see my name.

  I see the name of my…

  Future fucking bride?

  Charlotte Lancaster.

  “Oh hell no.” I lift my head to find them already watching me. “The Lancasters are fucking lunatics.”

  There are a bunch of Lancasters all over this city, but if she’s the one I’m thinking of, I’m not too far off the mark. Blonde—they’re all blonde. Pretty—they’re all that too. Sheltered.

  Batshit crazy thanks to her overprotective father who won’t let her out of his sight.

  Or maybe he keeps watch on her because she’s batshit crazy? I’m not too sure.

  “They are one of the oldest, most established families in the country,” Mother says, putting on her dignified airs. “The Lancasters are extremely wealthy, and very well connected.”

  “They’re also a bunch of assholes,” I mutter.

  The Lancaster men are notorious for their rude behavior. They just flat out don’t give a shit—and they don’t have to. They’ve been running this world for hundreds of years.

  Mother doesn’t acknowledge my statement, which I’m sure she knows is true. “It’s a power move, merging the two families.”

  “Why do I have to be involved with this power move?”

  “You’re all that I have left. Everyone else is taken. Your younger brother has his fiancée. Winston is married. There is no other male in this family who is single, and when Reginald Lancaster came to me with the idea, I couldn’t resist.” Mother smiles warmly, as if she hasn’t a care in the world. As if she hasn’t asked me to completely change my life and marry some woman I don’t even know. “You’re going to marry her.”

  “What does she even look like? How old is she?” I can’t even believe I’m contemplating this. And from the sharp glance Winny just gave me, I’m pretty sure he feels the same way.

  “There’s a photo of her in the back of the folder, behind the contract,” Winny bites out. “She’s twenty. She has three brothers, and they’re all assholes.”

  “Winston,” Mother chastises.

  “What? You know it’s true. Even that youngest one who’s still in high school. I hear Crew Lancaster is the biggest asshole of all. As bad as Whit,” Winston says.

  Everyone knows Whit Lancaster. He’s a complete dick who’s the oldest of Augustus Lancaster’s children. And Augustus is the oldest son of the oldest Lancaster of many generations. They’re the elite branch of the family.

  Charlotte and her asshole brothers were born to Augustus Lancaster’s younger brother. Reginald. Reggie. The heir and the spare analogy didn’t just apply to royalty. It also works for generationally wealthy families. They all want that heir and spare.

  In our family, for instance, Winston is the heir.

  I’m the spare.

  Keaton is the bonus.

  I shuffle through the papers—damn this contract is thick—until I come across a photo. I pull it out and stare at it, trying to come up with some sort of feeling I might have toward this Charlotte Lancaster person upon first seeing her.

  Nothing. I feel nothing.

  The photo is from what I can only assume is a debutante ball. She’s wearing a ridiculous white dress that looks like an over-frosted wedding cake. Her smile is small. Reluctant. Her eyes are blue, crystal clear like a perfect spring sky. Her hair is blonde and done up in the most elaborate style it overwhelms her small features.

  I prefer brunettes. Happy, sexy-as-fuck brunettes who know how to have a good time and laugh a lot. Redheads too. I don’t discriminate.

  Well, I might discriminate against grumpy-looking blondes who seem pissed at the world.

  “She looks like an angry virgin,” I finally say, my gaze still on the photo.

  “Perry,” Mother admonishes.

  Winston smothers a laugh.

  “Didn’t she refuse to dance with every guy who asked her the night of her debut?” I remember reading something about this. My mother and Winston share a look, but don’t answer me. “Yeah, pretty sure she even turned down her father. Bet that pissed him off.”

  “None of that matters,” Mother says. “I’m sure she’s changed.”

  Yeah, right.

  I toss the photo onto the table, immediately banishing her face from my thoughts. “She’s not my type.”

  “If she spreads her legs, she’s your type,” Winston says gruffly.

  I’m both flattered and insulted by his statement. He knows I can get pussy. I used to take any pussy I could get when I was younger, but I’m more discriminating now.

  I use restraint. I’m not out of control like I used to be.

  I ignore what he says, focusing on Mother. “I don’t like blondes, especially ones I don’t know.”

  “You’ll get to know her.”

  “Between the gossip about her and that photo, I don’t want to.”

  Her lips thin. “You don’t have a choice. The contract has already been signed.”

  What the fuck? A contract? “Not by me.”

  “The deal isn’t between you and Charlotte. It’s between me and her father,” she says, as if that’s that. I’m going to agree because I always agree. Caroline Constantine’s most dutiful son is about to marry a woman he doesn’t even know.

  “I’m an adult,” I remind her. “You can’t just marry me off to some random woman. I won’t do it.”

  “You will,” Mother says firmly.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Excuse my language, Mother, but fuck that. People don’t do this kind of shit. Not these days.”

  “You’d be surprised,” she says cryptically, raising a single brow.

  “Well, I’m not doing it.” I grab the photo and shove it back into the folder, slapping it shut before I push it across the table toward my mother. “Absolutely not. I refuse.”

  “Perry. Darling. Please. Listen to me.” She ignores the rejected folder, her gaze never wavering from mine. “I need you to do this. For me. For our family. This is a power merger of two very established families, the likes which haven’t been seen in years. Fifty? Maybe even a hundred. When we come together, we’ll become a force to be reckoned with…”

  “And we’ll be able to conquer the Morellis once and for all,” Win finishes for her. “And anyone else who attempts to come for us.”

  I turn on my brother, incensed. “You actually believe this is a good idea?”

  He’s quiet for a moment, as if searching for the right words to use. “I think it could be advantageous, yes.”

  His answer feels like a betrayal. A slap in my face. Easy for them to say I should do this when they’re the ones who don’t have to marry a complete stranger.

  “What if there’s a woman in my life already? What then? Am I supposed to tell her, ‘Sorry, babe, gotta
marry someone else because Mommy says so’? How’s that going to fly with my girlfriend?” I ask, making up this shit as I go along.

  And Jesus, that sounds fucking awful. What will people think of me? My friends? Other women in my life? From my past? The rest of the family?

  They’ll think it’s just what I do. What I always do. Go along with whatever our mother says, no questions asked.

  An aggravated sigh escapes Winston and he leans back in his chair. “Perry, you surprise me.”

  “What do you mean?” I retort.

  “First off, we know you don’t have a girlfriend, so you can fuck off with that theory,” he says, slowly shaking his head. “You’re impressing me with your flat-out refusal to go along with the idea, though. I figured you’d readily agree because you always say yes when it comes to Mother and her requests.”

  Right now, I can’t bask in my brother’s approval. Even though it means the world to me to have it. “Marrying someone I don’t know isn’t something I can readily agree with. Marriage will change the course of my entire life.”

  “Only for a little while,” Mother says.

  My gaze returns to hers. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll have to go through a very public engagement. A rather public wedding. You’ll need to remain quiet and appear the devoted husband to your new, beautiful wife, but eventually, you may…stray. If necessary. It’s part of the contract.” She offers a delicate shrug.

  “What the fuck? Are you serious?” I’m angry on my future wife’s behalf.

  Who the hell adds in an it’s okay to cheat clause into a marriage contract?

  The same asshole who barters his daughter off for an arranged marriage, that’s who.

  “You can worry about all of that shit later,” Winston says, glancing at his watch yet again. “I have to go. Am I still needed here?”

  “You may go, Winston,” Mother says, as if he won’t leave until he receives her approval.

  He’s already striding away before she can get the words out, the door closing on a soft snick, leaving us alone.

  I steel myself, prepared for a barrage of convincing words. I know how this works, and she does too.

  She firmly believes she’ll get me to agree to this, but for once…