Chapter One
“No matter what he says, remember he’s no better than we are.”
Alisha Coventry looked across the limo at Spencer Westerly, her best friend’s younger brother, and her heart broke for him. He sounded nervous even though she knew he’d hate that it showed. The Spencer she’d grown up with had reigned over their high school. Captain of the football team. Top of his class. Confidence personified . . . until a week ago.
Alisha hated seeing him so unsure of himself. With his thick head of blond hair, serious brown eyes, and tall, athletic build, he’d never been short of female admirers. He should have been conceited, but his mother had raised him better than that. He was a good man, and shouldn’t feel as though his accomplishments were somehow less than other family members’.
His start-up company, WorkChat, might one day make him a household name. All it needed was an additional infusion of capital to reach its potential.
Which was why Alisha had agreed to marry him. That, and she’d learned how important it was to Spencer’s pride that he succeed in business; if she could help that by ensuring the injection of cash, all the better. She reached out and gave his hand a supportive squeeze. “You’re damn right he’s not. Your brother was given everything. So his name is on a skyscraper, so what? That doesn’t mean he accomplished anything. You’re building your company from nothing. Don’t let him intimidate you.”
“That’s his goal, you know. It’s why Brett sent the limo and wanted to meet in Boston. He doesn’t want me to forget how important he is or why he was the one our father handed the company to.” Spencer raised their linked hands and turned them so the diamond on her left finger was before them. “Now that we’re here, I feel bad about dragging you into this. Are you sure you’re up to pretending this is real? It sounded like a good idea when Rachelle suggested it, but I’ll admit I didn’t think about how it would be for you when I agreed.”
“Don’t worry about me. The whole idea of mandating marriage is archaic, and holding your inheritance in front of you like a carrot bothers me. It’s manipulative. And wrong. I don’t mind lying at all in the face of that.”
Spencer raised an eyebrow. “And your friends?”
Alisha shrugged. “They didn’t ask too many questions. I’m twenty-eight and you’re gorgeous. And before you ask, I didn’t lie to them. I simply didn’t tell them the whole truth. Six months from now no one will even be shocked when we divorce. Marriages don’t last anymore.”
The limo pulled up in front of a tall office building in the financial district of Boston. “That’s depressing, but if our families are any indication, it’s accurate.”
“Exactly.”
“I want to tell my grandmother I don’t need her money, but it would make a difference to how quickly I can get WorkChat off the ground. You should take something for helping me. At least let me pay your college loans.”
“I didn’t agree to marry you for the money,” Alisha said softly.
“Why did you agree?” he asked, watching her expression.
Alisha considered his question. She’d survived her childhood and found happiness by living in the present instead of looking back. Although she still missed her mother, losing her to a stroke had actually been a relief, because she could now cut her father out of her life. Completely.
For reasons Alisha had never understood, her mother had taken her father back time and time again. Her mother would conveniently forget he had a temper when he drank, and that he’d unleashed it more than once on Alisha and her mother. She’d let him back into their lives long enough for him to go through whatever money they’d saved. Even then it would take an escalation of violence that required police intervention for her mother to throw him out again. Alisha had learned early to hide her bruises and lie to social workers. She understood what it meant to feel powerless, to believe she didn’t deserve better.
No one would ever make her feel powerless again.
And I’ll never sit back and watch while someone else is made to feel that way. “Isn’t that what friends do? Help when they’re needed?” she answered.
He looked concerned. “I shouldn’t let you do this for me. Brett really is an asshole. He’s a carbon copy of my father. Plus, if you survive today, we still have to present you to my grandmother. Did I mention that she asked us to her home for lunch on Sunday? The invitation included my mother. If that’s not a recipe for disaster, I don’t know what is.”
Alisha tightened her hand on Spencer’s. Family should be a person’s strength, but sadly, that was no more the case with him than it had been for her. None of that scared her, though. A familiar fear nipped at her heels, but she refused to be afraid anymore.
If my father came after me today, he’d have a fight on his hands.
Come for me and you’d better kill me.
If you don’t, when I get up, and I will get up, I’m coming for you.
Alisha let out a long breath. Thoughts like that were why she focused on the present and what she had to be grateful for. Spencer’s home had been a peaceful one. His mother hadn’t believed in raising her voice and his stepfather could have won an award for the gentlest man on the planet. Their home had made sense, and that was a big part of why Alisha had spent so much time there. Rachelle, Spencer, and Nicolette felt like her siblings. In her heart, they were, and she’d do anything for them. To lighten the mood, Alisha gave Spencer a shoulder check. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. Your overblown ego of a brother doesn’t intimidate me.”
“Because you’ve never met him.”
“Stop it. You’re not going to make me nervous. There’s only one thing that scares me, and that’s the first day of school each year. Separating twenty-five children from their parents, sometimes for the first time in their lives, scares the hell out of me. I have one chance to make a good impression on someone who may be clinging to my leg and wiping snot on the hem of my skirt while screaming for his or her mother. That’s when I pray for strength and guidance. This? It’s a piece of cake.” Just as she hoped, her words brought a smile to Spencer’s face.
He slid out of the car and held a hand for Alisha to take. “Then come on, future Mrs. Westerly. Let’s go face the dragon.”
“Stop there.” Brett slammed a hand down on his desk as his temper flared in response to an unwelcome announcement from Dennis Lockhart, the European market director for Westerly Corp. “We had an agreement. They will hold up their end.”
Dennis said, “Daten Jetzt is claiming a change in European Union policies negates our current contract.”
“We need to stay on the inside track in Germany or that market will go to shit.”
“I wish I had better news for you, but we’ve hit a wall.”
Brett swore. Dennis wasn’t one to give up, which meant the situation was serious. “I’ll look into it and call you back.” After hanging up, Brett stood, ran his hand through his thick black hair in frustration, and shrugged off his dark-gray Kiton suit jacket.
Failure wasn’t an option. It never had been.
Westerlys don’t lose.
He impatiently made calls to everyone from the German minister for economics and technology to the German ambassador to the United States. He called in favors, threatened, and pushed through every roadblock until he had both the information and the ammunition needed. Then he called the CEO in question and laid out exactly what his company would lose if it didn’t honor the initial deal. Within minutes he had confirmation that all would go as originally planned.
Satisfied, Brett hung up and flexed. That, Dennis, is how to win.
“Mr. Westerly?” his secretary’s impeccably calm voice floated through the intercom. Gina Carlise was computer-like perfection in human form. If the woman had a life outside the office, Brett didn’t know about it, and that was how he preferred it.
“Gina.”
“Your brother is here.”
“Send him in.”
“He’s not alone.”
Brett frowned. He didn’t like surprises, and the past week had been full of them. “Send them in.” If he’d realized that missing his grandmother’s birthday party would upset her the way it did, he would have gone. Of all his family members, he was the closest to his grandmother.
His interaction with the rest of his family was primarily special-occasion texts and e-mail updates. There wasn’t time to get together beyond that, not if one wanted to achieve his level of success. He’d long ago given up trying to explain that to his siblings. They’d embraced the middle-class lifestyle his mother had dragged her youngest three children down to. As far as he could see, they were happy to settle for scraping by. They refused to accept money from their father, and every attempt Brett made to help them had been perceived as an insult.
Which hadn’t stopped Brett from smoothing the way for them when he could. As his father had done, Brett made sure the family was taken care of even if it meant doing so behind the scenes. If they applied for a scholarship, they got it. A loan? The bank approved them. Not that they knew that. They’d never understood why Brett had chosen to live with his father rather than with his mother when she left the family home. His only regret? Not being able to watch over his younger siblings. They had taken it as a sign that he didn’t care. Neither Rachelle, Spencer, nor Nicolette knew he employed people whose only job was to make sure his family got what they needed without ever knowing it was from him. It was better that way.
However, a week ago, his grandmother’s lawyer had delivered her insane offer to dole out inheritances early to any of her grandchildren who married a person of her approval, and invited her, along with the rest of their siblings, to the wedding. Even as he’d read the ultimatum that if they were not married at the time of her death, their inheritance would be donated to a designated list of charities, he’d dismissed it as ridiculous. His lawyers were already looking into the legality of such a stipulation. It would never hold up in court. He hadn’t been concerned until he’d heard that Spencer had gotten engaged, an impulsive act that necessitated direct intervention.
The door of his office opened, and Spencer walked in, dressed in a polo shirt and jeans with an equally casually dressed blonde on his arm. Brett sensed hesitation in his brother’s entrance and sighed impatiently. “Come in, Spencer.”
The woman at his side appeared to give his brother a nudge forward. She was pretty in a wholesome, milk-commercial kind of way, and full-figured. He wasn’t surprised to see she wore little makeup. Definitely his brother’s style.
So that’s Alisha Coventry. He’d heard her name over the years and recognized her from photos with his sister. As his brother’s conveniently announced fiancée, she wouldn’t want to hear anything he was about to say. “We need to talk, Spencer. Gina, why don’t you take my brother’s friend to get some coffee in the café?”
Spencer straightened to his full height and pulled the blonde closer to his side. “That’s not necessary. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Alisha.”
Brett looked past his brother to his secretary. “Gina.”
His secretary stepped forward and addressed his brother’s security blanket. “I’d love to show you the café if you’d like to join me.”
The blonde smiled politely at his secretary, then turned steely blue eyes to Brett. “Thank you, but I’d prefer to stay here.”
There was a quiet confidence in her voice that had Brett looking her over again. She wore her hair in a wild, angelic style, but she returned his gaze without blinking. His brother could do worse than to choose a woman with a spine. “This is a family matter.”
Spencer glanced down at Alisha, then looked back at Brett and said, “Alisha is family, or she will be very soon. We’re getting married.”
“That’s what we need to discuss.”
Gina excused herself discreetly and closed the door behind her as she left.
Alisha gave Spencer’s arm a supportive squeeze. Not just any angel, a guardian one at that. Brett felt an unwelcome flash of attraction to her. He shook his head. She lacked the sophistication of the women he generally went for.
And she’s Spencer’s.
Spencer squared his shoulders. “Like I said, there’s nothing you could say to me that you can’t say in front of Alisha.”
With a growl of frustration, Brett said, “Does she know about the clause?”
Alisha’s chin rose proudly. “Of course I do.”
Brett admired her spunk, but focused on what was important. He met his youngest brother’s eyes. “You don’t have to do this. I already have lawyers looking into our grandmother’s mental competence.”
Spencer shook his head in disgust. “You’re serious? That’s low, even for you.”
A flush warmed Brett’s cheeks as his temper rose. “She’s obviously not in her right mind, and you’re a fool if you marry someone just because she said you should.”
Alisha’s eyes widened. “Wow, you’re exactly the way Spencer described you.”
Spencer shook his head at her. Brett didn’t like the message he witnessed them exchange. They were aligned against him, even though his brother said, “Don’t.”
The warm smile she gave Spencer sent a stabbing dark feeling through Brett that he wasn’t sure how to interpret. When Alisha’s eyes met his again, Brett liked the cold anger he saw in them even less. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” Her stress of the word rude sounded like an accusation of its own.
Spencer’s arm went around her waist. “If that’s all you have to say, Brett, you’ve wasted your time and mine. Alisha and I are getting married. I don’t need your help.”
Brett sighed loudly. “We’ll see what you say a week from now when Grandmother retracts the offer. Just don’t do anything hasty.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Like elope?” Spencer asked as if he were considering it a dare he might accept. He looked down at his fiancée. “What do you say, Alisha? Vegas?”
Alisha shrugged. “Sure.”
“Don’t be an idiot. You don’t have to do this.”
Stepping away from Alisha, Spencer went nose to nose with Brett. “No, what I don’t have to do is listen to anything else you have to say. I have to invite you to the wedding, but you don’t have to come.” He turned, led Alisha out of the room, and slammed the door behind them.
Brett stood next to his desk, trying to shake off the storm of emotion raging within him. How did every conversation with Spencer end in a standoff?
His office door flew open as Alisha burst back through. With an audacity that took him completely off guard, she poked a finger into his chest and said, “You should be ashamed of yourself. You couldn’t say one nice thing to your brother? If there is a fool in this room, it’s you. Spencer is one hundred times the man you are, but you’re too full of yourself to see it. Are you really trying to prove your grandmother is incompetent? What kind of monster are you?”
Unwelcome desire flooded through him. He caught her hand in his. “You know nothing about me.”
There was a flash of something that looked a hell of a lot like passion in her eyes before she looked away. She tugged her hand free. “Don’t ever touch me.”
“Then keep your pretty little hands to yourself,” he said gruffly.
“Alisha,” Spencer said from the doorway. He rushed to her side. “I thought you were going to the bathroom.”
She glared up at Brett again. “I was, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m done now.”
Her passionate defense of his brother was hotter than hell. Brett’s life was full of women who played by his rules. In general, they were tediously predictable. Alisha certainly wasn’t that.
Brett wondered what else she did in the heat of the moment. He stepped away from her and fought his automatic response to her. Noticing the sad expression on Spencer’s face was enough to kill his boner. What the hell am I thinking?
He watched his brother lead Alisha out of his office for the second time and fought the urge to call her back. Shit.
Her words rang in his head: “What kind of monster are you?”
Apparently, the kind who wants to fuck my brother’s fiancée.
Brett let out the breath he’d been holding in without realizing it. He wasn’t an impulsive man when it came to women. He certainly wasn’t the type that would ever consider anyone who belonged to someone else.
Still, he couldn’t get the image of her charging up to him out of his head. There had been a fire in her eyes that he’d found exciting despite how clearly off-limits she was. He didn’t want to think about how kissable she’d looked with her cheeks flushed in anger or the bounce of her gorgeous breasts as she’d walked off in a huff.
He closed the door to his office, told Gina to hold his calls, and made himself a scotch on the rocks. Only after he’d downed the double shot did he allow himself to remember how good Alisha’s hand had felt in his. He inhaled and remembered the scent of her as she challenged him: sweet flowers and a kick of spice.
He hated how easily she’d made him want her.
Worse, there had been an answering hunger in her. He’d seen it in her eyes. That’s trouble I don’t need. I should put her out of my head, but I need to know exactly what type of woman she is.
So I can help Spencer.
Putting his glass down, he returned to his desk and called his secretary. “Gina, get me a full background check on Alisha Coventry.” He didn’t say more. He knew he didn’t have to. Gina was that good.
A few hours later, he was reading through a digital file on Alisha. Police reports about domestic abuse. Modest career. Long association with his family.
Does Spencer love her?
Why is she marrying Spencer? Does she see him as a meal ticket? I’m not an expert on love, but my gut tells me that woman is not in love. She couldn’t look at me the way she did and be serious about my brother.
Or maybe women are all the same.
Nothing would ever erase Brett’s memory of hiding behind a chair while his father and mother fought for the last time. The proud Dereck Westerly had been reduced to a pleading, tearful man, promising to do anything if his wife would stay. He said he’d forgive her infidelity. He would forgive her anything, if she would only stay. It was the only time Brett ever saw weakness in his father, and Brett’s love for his mother had withered that day. She’d dismissed his father and said she was leaving with the children. She claimed she needed to build a life away from him to be happy.
Happy?
What the fuck was that? Stephanie Westerly had deserted her marriage, broken up her family, to be happy. His father, on the other hand, had proved how life should be. Focused. Driven. Successful. Pursuing happiness had caused his youngest brother to believe he had to appease an old lady by marrying in haste. That will never be me. I don’t need anyone at my side.
Maintaining the financial security of the family. Ambition. Affluence. That was what mattered. Life wasn’t about being happy.