Bryce straightens his tie. “But I am about to fix all of that.”

Well now I’m suspicious as hell. “How exactly?”

“I’ve arranged a match for you, little sister.”

I frown. “A match?”

“Yes. A husband.”

“A what now?” What the hell? My parents might have been rich once, and my mother comes from a long line of New York royalty, but we aren’t living in a Jane Austen novel here.

“I’ve secured you a husband. A billionaire no less.”

My god, he’s entirely serious. “I don’t want a husband.”

“Did you not hear me? He’s a billionaire, Melanie.”

“I don’t care if he’s the king of England, I’m not marrying him.”

He snarls. “You will do what is necessary to ensure this family’s future, you ungrateful little bitch.”

I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out. Instead, I blink at him in shock.

My mother turns to her housekeeper, who’s hovering in the doorway. “Margarite. Please leave us.”

Margarite dips her head like she’s addressing the Queen and ducks out of the room.

“Mom!” I plead. “He can’t be serious. I’m not marrying some crusty old billionaire.”

Bryce places his hand on my thigh beneath the table and squeezes so tightly I know he’ll leave bruises on my skin. I wince, which only makes him squeeze harder. My mother looks away, like she always has. He leans forward, baring his teeth. “You will marry whoever the hell I tell you to marry, Melanie. It’s your fault we’re in this mess. You are the one responsible for our father’s death. Or have you forgotten that?”

Tears blur my vision, and I shake my head. I hate him so much. His fingers dig in deeper, causing searing pain to lance up my thigh. “Now, are you going to keep your pretty mouth shut and listen to what I have to say?”

Tears run down my cheeks now, and I nod. “Yes.”

He releases his grip and relief floods through me.

“Fortunately for you, my little Melanie,” Bryce says, his tone resuming its usual creepy sing-song quality. My mother turns back to the table and watches our exchange. “Despite your history, I have managed to secure you quite the catch.”

I swat away the tears from my cheeks. “Who?”

“Nathan James,” he says with a smirk.

“Nathan James? The man who dates a different woman every week? The guy who works as a lawyer for the mob and is reported to have ice in his veins? You think he’s a catch?”

“He’s very handsome,” my mother says coolly.

I blink at her. “Yeah, so was Ted Bundy.”

“I had to do some persuading, but he’s agreed to take you as his wife, and all he asks in return is that you deliver two heirs.”

My throat squeezes shut. How can someone related to me be so cruel? “You know I might not be able to do that, Bryce. You know what happened in college.”

His blue eyes are ice-cold as he glares at me. “Exactly. We know you’re easy to knock up, little sister. And don’t worry. I have a plan to relieve him of some of his millions without you having to have his kids first.”

There are so many things wrong with what he just said that I don’t even know where to begin. “And what if I don’t agree to this? What if I don’t want to relieve this man of any of his money?”

Bryce bares his teeth once more, looking like a diseased animal. “Then our mother will lose her home, and our little sister will have to drop out of that fancy college she’s at and clean toilets for a living, won’t she?”

There’s nothing wrong with cleaning toilets, you entitled asshole.

“And it will all be your fault, Melanie. First you got our father murdered and then, when you finally have a chance to fix it and secure this family’s future, you refuse.” Bryce twists the knife deeper. “Surely you’re not selfish enough to do that, are you?”

I would never do anything to hurt my baby sister. Ashley and Tyler are my world, and she’s truly innocent in all of this. She still has two years left at Harvard, and tuition is expensive. I hate being backed into a corner, but he maneuvered me into one nonetheless. Like he always does.

“I’ll think about it.” I grab my purse and walk out of the room, and like I do every single time I come to this house, I wish my dad was still here. Because despite what Bryce would have people believe, he was a brilliant, kind man, and even if we were completely destitute, he never would have asked me to do this.

“We have a meeting with their lawyers on Thursday,” Bryce calls after me. “I expect you to be there.”

Chapter

Three

MELANIE

Tyler stares at me wide-eyed from across the kitchen island, a large pepperoni pizza between us. “He wants you to what?”

“Marry some random guy and have a couple of kids.” I throw my hands into the air. “Can you believe that?”

“Baby girl, I can believe anything of your brother. But damn!” He shakes his head and stuffs half a slice of pizza into his mouth.

“And I have no idea why this guy he set me up with would even want to marry me. He’s like New York’s most eligible bachelor. A confirmed playboy. And he’s a lawyer for the mob who, if rumors are to be believed, has ice rather than blood running through his veins.”

Tyler swallows and arches an eyebrow. “Is he hot?”

I toss my balled napkin at him. “That is not the point.”

Grinning, he slowly nods. “So he is hot.”

“His name is Nathan James. Google him and decide for yourself,” I say with a shrug.

Tyler takes his phone from his pocket and taps away at it. “Holy fuck, Goose. This guy is fucking gorgeous,” he announces only a few seconds later. “Have you seen that jawline? Wow! Come to Daddy.”

I walk around the island and peer at the picture of my alleged husband-to-be wearing a tuxedo. He isn’t smiling at the camera. In fact, he’s scowling at it, like he’s pissed about having his picture taken, but I have to agree with Tyler. He is hot. If you like grumpy, arrogant assholes—which I certainly do not.

Tyler stares at the image, practically drooling. “He looks like he could play Henry Cavill’s hotter brother in a movie about hotshot lawyers who play rugby in their free time.”

I roll my eyes and try not to laugh. “That is oddly specific.”