“I have been in discussions with their Royal Highnesses for a number of months about concerns they have regarding providing free internet access to all the citizens of their beautiful country,” Papá continued. “We have come to an agreement that would provide…”
His words faded to a hum behind the thump of my pulse in my ears because I suddenly knew exactly what was happening.
After all, it had already happened to my younger sister, Graciela.
Papá is the founder and CEO of United Media Group, the second largest media conglomerate in the United States, and also a ruthless businessman. A few years ago, he saw an opportunity in Kilgore Enterprises, which owns the major newspapers for thirty-six major US cities. At least theydid, until Graciela married Agustin “Auggie” Kilgore, the grandson of CEO Waylon Kilgore. After that, Kilgore Enterprises was swallowed up by UMG in one of the largest media mergers in recent history. All made possible by a very convenient marriage between my sister and Auggie. Papá has made it no secret that all of his children’s marriages have to behoove the bottom line of his business, because it’s supposed to belong to the four of us one day.
And all of that was why Malachi was suddenly back.
It was also why Papá was about to inform me that I was a matter of minutes from being engaged to the man I already gave my heart to, who already destroyed it.
“Given that you and the Duke already know each otherquite well,” Papá went on with a slight edge to his voice, “I was more than receptive to the proposal brought to me by their Royal Highnesses. The arrangement is that you will be married next year. After the marriage, UMG will establish a second headquarters in Corwick, where it will become the sole provider of state-sponsored internet access. In return, UMG will provide the government with a generous rate for services and brand new, country-wide fiber-optic cabling systems to ensure that all of their fine citizens have free, reliable, and state-of-the-art access to the internet, so that not a single person is left behind due to lack of access to technology.”
“We are very thrilled about the opportunity to finally provide this to our people,” Andrew underscored, speaking to Papá in that same soft, warm English-Irish accent that Malachi has. “It will improve literacy, reduce the unemployment rate, and contribute to the creation of new jobs across the country.”
I couldn’t argue with their desire to provide people with free access to the internet. In this day and age, having that is critical,but… Corwick’s “free” internet access would be paid for with my own freedom. And nobody in the room appeared to be willing to touch that topic with a ten-foot-pole. Likely because they weren’t concerned with it, seeing as arranged marriages are commonplace in their world and that of my family.
There wasn’t anything I could do to change what I’d just been informed was my fate, but that didn’t stop me from trying.
“Papá,” I said meekly, cutting my eyes to him and then Mamá, who gave a small, pre-emptive shake of her head, “No quiero casarme con— ”
“No hables español para ocultar tus palabras,” he snapped in a far more severe voice than he’d been using up to that point. He cleared his throat and gestured pleasantly. “Use English so that everyone may understand.”
I wasn’t going to tell akingandqueento their faces that I had lost any desire to marry their son years ago, and looked at my hands while I rephrased my words.
“Your Royal Highnesses,” I said, cutting my eyes to Deirdre because she was definitely the lesser of several evils right then. “Are you sure this is what Mal—” I coughed into my hand as I meticulously reworded my question. “What the Duke would want?”
“Oh yes,” Andrew said placidly. “It was actually his idea in the first place. Malachi came to us, and then we reached out to your father.”
The tiniest flicker of hope came to life in my chest that maybe there were remnants of theoldMalachi in there somewhere, and I met his eyes again. I searched for the warmth and safety I’d always seen for as long as I could remember; the warmth and safety that had made me fall in love with him when I was merely a child.
It wasn’t there.
Malachi hated me.
Something happened after he left for his last year of college ten years ago. I have no idea what it was, but it transformed him from that sweet boy into a sinister, resentful man. And one glance at the documents on the coffee table told me he was about to essentially purchase me from my father.
“Yes,” Papá underscored, reaching to pick up a pen and sliding both it and the documents toward Malachi. “So, if there is nothing further,mijita, we will go ahead with finalizing the engagement.” He sat up straight, chuckling as he gestured at Mamá. “I know your mother is eager to begin planning the many, many festivities.”
I dragged my gaze to Mamá, who looked at me with resolve, as if attempting to convince me I could handle this and not immediately dismiss it as something like a death sentence. After all, Graciela and Auggie were happy. They learned to love each other, and have a pleasant, happy marriage, and this is just the way it is for people like us.
But Graciela and Auggie had been strangers. They didn’t have a lifetime of love that had mysteriously disappeared into thin air and reappeared ten years later, transformed into hate. That’s what Malachi and I ended up with, and this was a freight train barreling toward me with shot breaks, because Malachi was now picking up the pen.
He swept his dark, slanted, assertive signature across each of the documents, and just like that, we were engaged.
It was nothing like I had dreamed of for years.
As if to underscore the stark contrast, Malachi set down the pen and reached into his inside jacket pocket. He produced a small, brown, leather box that looked about a hundred years old, and all but slammed it onto the coffee table in front of me. I knew an heirloom ring was inside. He didn’t get down on one knee. He didn’t slip it onto my finger. He didn’t even open the box.
This was a business transaction.
And Papá waspleased.
He chuckled again, clapping his hands together. “Muchas gracias y felicidades, hijo.”
Malachi looked at him with his dark eyebrows lifted pleasantly, and then spoke for the first time since I entered the room; the first time I’d heard his voice in ten years.
“The pleasure is all mine,señor.”
