Chapter 3
Caden
I hadn't expected the pretty brunette to run into my arms, declare her undying love and cry "yes," but I certainly hadn't expected her to act as if I'd asked her to bludgeon someone to death, or act as if the contents of her breakfast were about to shoot from her mouth Exorcist style.
"Did you… just ask…me…to marry you?"
Elizabeth's cheeks blazed, and she slumped onto the packed sand by the edge of the surf, not seeming to mind the frigid tide sloshing around her ankles and beneath her skirt. Disbelief and astonishment with a dash of anger washed away the previous excitement from her face. Fuck her father for not having discussed this with her before I arrived. She should have known about the proposed agreement.
"Did I just fall into the twilight zone?" She pinched the back of her hand hard enough to leave a welt then hugged her thighs to her chest.
I hunkered down beside her. "Afraid not."
"Is this what you do?" she asked making no effort to look at me. "Get people's hopes up and then when you have them, add the sell-your-soul clause?"
"Not quite. Usually, when I add the sell-your-soul clause, I also request the blood of three young virgins." She didn't laugh or react. Odd. I'd charmed more women with my banter than I'd had hot dinners. Maybe I was losing my knack. "See it as a business deal. One, I think, would be advantageous for both of us."
The past twelve months had been spent keeping investors happy by flying around the world from one resort to another. In that time, I hadn't opened any letters from the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services or listened to my assistant's warnings about sorting out my permanent residency. Now, I wished I'd taken some time to do just that because the bloody feckers refused to renew my visa.
Almost nine years of tough grind were about to go down the crapper. No way was I going back to Ireland. No fucking way. I visited when I had to, but over the years I could count on one hand how often I'd been back. And even then, it was only for a few days. I didn't hate my country of birth, but it held some memories I'd rather not relive and people I'd rather not see.
After searching for legal loopholes with my lawyer, it seemed the only way to solve my problem was to marry.
Last week, when I talked to Beaufort again about investing in the club, I mentioned we would have to rethink our partnership until I figured out my immigration status. He suggested I ask Elizabeth to tie the knot. The aul fella was supposed to sweeten her to the idea beforehand. I should have known the whiskey soaked shite wouldn't keep his word. I didn't agree with her father about much, anything really, but marrying Elizabeth Beaufort would be a godsend.
She knew Sundown Sands inside out, was passionate about it, and she needed my investment. Plus, her father assured me, she wasn't interested in romance. That was more than fine by me. Something about her husband walking out on her. The last thing I wanted was to marry a woman with hearts in her eyes. Love was for masochists. I fell in love once and gave my heart twice. Ten years later, and Louise's lies still whispered my name.
I picked up a broken seashell and glanced around the lush landscape. Elizabeth, who looked like she was participating in the mannequin challenge, remained statue still and stared at the tumbling waves. I half expected her to spew gibberish and rock back and forth.
Beaufort had allowed the place to fall into a shambles. Millions could be made if Sundown Sands Country Club was in the right hands. And I intended to be the one to make those millions.
I wasn't lying to Elizabeth about what I wanted to do to the place. The beach was ideal for water sports, the ancient oak trees would conceal the cabins I hoped to build, and the main house would make an ideal boutique hotel.
Elizabeth nudged her cat-eye glasses into place, cleared her throat and broke the mile-long silence between us. "Why did you ask me to marry you? Was it for my sparkling wit? My willowy figure? Or do you make a habit of asking strange women to marry you?"
"I need a permanent resident card, or a green card as it's more commonly known." There was no point trying to dress it up or make it sound like something it wasn't.
"Of course you do." She didn't soften her sarcasm with a smile or a laugh. "Committing fraud sounds like an excellent way to begin a business partnership and a marriage. Maybe we should rob some banks and a few jewelry stores while we're at it. Although, Caden and Elizabeth doesn't have quite the same ring to it as Bonnie and Clyde."
She took off her glasses, so they dangled from between her fingers, and turned to face me. Dark circles bruised her skin, and eyes greener than a blade of grass peeking through melting snow viewed me coolly.
"I'm sure there are easier ways to get a green card than marrying someone you're not attracted to let alone love. What about a work visa?"
"Believe me, I've applied for a new visa, but I think I'm being punished for ignoring letters from the immigration office. And how do you know I don't find you attractive? I happen to find the sexy secretary look very enticing." Okay, she wasn't the kind of woman I usually fancied. I preferred tall, leggy blondes out for a good time and nothing else, but something about Elizabeth Beaufort warmed my blood.
She rolled her eyes and heaved out a sigh. "Do you really think I'm that gullible?" She stood. The back of her wet skirt clung to her perfectly rounded ass, which warmed more than my blood. My hand itched to redden her cheeks.
"What's a girl to do?" she said with a shrug. "Break the law and risk going to jail so I can save my family's legacy or allow the place to go into foreclosure and lose everything we've worked for."
I resisted the urge to laugh. "I suppose that's one way to look at it."
I pushed myself up from the sand and stood a few inches from her. A mouthwatering trace of citrus and roses floated off her skin, and to prevent myself from burying my face in her neck and sampling her warm softness, I stepped away.
The last thing I needed was a sexual assault charge. I would get kicked out of the country so fast, and hard I would fly across the ocean without the aid of an airplane.
"Can't you see how much potential this place has, Lizzie?"
"Elizabeth." Her eyes flashed with blood draining scorn. "Don't you think I already know that? This place has been in my family for almost two-hundred years."
"And it'll be in your family for two more weeks if you don't accept what I'm offering."
She pressed a hand against her chest. "Be still my beating heart. You're such a romantic. With a sterling silver tongue like yours, I'm surprised you're not already married with a horde of ankle biters hugging your legs."
I flung the seashell still in my hand into the ocean. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I get down on bended knee. I'm not the marrying kind. And I'll never have kids." Once upon a time, I wanted a huge family, but after everything that had happened, I would never put myself through falling in love with a child just to find out she was never mine. "So, what do you think?" I asked.
"What do I think?" She tapped a red-tipped fingernail against her full, pink lips. "I think I'd rather marry an unwashed tramp who talks to rats and screams at his imaginary friends."
"If that's the kind of man you want, you should stand outside my apartment building on 54th."
Instead of laughing, she frowned. "The answer's no. No to the business deal and no to the marriage proposal."
I had less than a month before my current visa expired. If she didn't marry me, I was screwed. I'd promised my investors a huge return on Sundown Sands—losing face wasn't an option. If it all went south, there were a few other options I could try. I could set up an office in London and travel back and forth on a tourist visa. It would mean I'd have to work here illegally, and could also mean the loss of several lucrative deals.
"Listen," I said, "how about I cancel my meeting in the city and stick around here for few days? Meet me for dinner. We can discuss things in more detail."
"I don't want to discuss anything in more detail." Her words were as flinty as her eyes. " If I ever marry again, it'll be for love. It won't be because my father has decided to use me as a sweetener in a business deal." Her words wavered, and she firmed her lips as if she was afraid to show any emotion other than indignation.
I turned my attention to the majestic white towers of the main building sprouting through the tree line. "We could bring it back to its glory, y'know. Make it the place it was meant to be."
"My answer's final, Mr. Gallagher." She strolled toward the trees, kicking up sand with every step, and I couldn't help but watch the hypnotic swing of her hips and the way her damp clothes clung to her curves.
"Not if I can help it," I whispered.