Page 1 of The Marriage Mistake

ONE

EMBER

Jack Mars did not want to marry me. I knew this because when we met for the first time in the richly decorated parlor of his grandmother’s mansion, the first thing he said to me was, “I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t want to marry you.” He pinched his lips, regretful. “I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time.”

I blinked. That wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker, considering what had brought me here. But I needed more information. I leaned back on the overstuffed chair in which I sat across from him, my toe nudging the ornate foot of the round cherrywood side table between us. The room smelled of antique furniture and the subtle scent from the bouquet of roses in the corner behind him. I watched him steadily, my hands folded on my lap. “May I ask why?”

He gave me the kind of smile that made everything between my neck and my knees tighten, despite the fact that I was absolutely sure I didn’t want him in that way. He had chiseled features: a long nose, high cheekbones, full lips, and remarkably blue eyes. His long limbs and broad shoulders rested comfortably on the large, floral upholstered chair. Even sitting, I could tell he was considerably taller than me. Not that that was saying much. His chestnut brown hair curled ever so slightly at the ends, cropped short on the sides of his head and left a bit longer on top. He’d let it grow out a bit since his company’s marketing photos had been taken. Yes, I’d looked him up before coming here. No, I wasn’t prepared for the real thing. The pictures hadn’t done him justice, and the pictures had been very good.

Shifting in his chair, he spread his palms with the kind of regal grace that came with absolute confidence in oneself. Jack Mars was attractive and aware of it. His face arranged itself into a good imitation of sympathy. “I’m sure you’re a very nice girl. Truly. Don’t take it personally.”

“That’s nice,” I replied, “but it doesn’t answer the question.”

He paused, and in that moment, I thought he might have seen me for the first time. Before, I’d been some woman his billionaire grandmother had ordered online for him to marry. A body filling the chair across from his that he wanted to get rid of as soon as possible. But I hadn’t been emotionally devastated by his rejection, and so I’d surprised him.

That told me a lot about the kind of man I was dealing with. This was a man who was used to being in total control. Used to being obeyed and deferred to. Used to having a certain effect on women. My left eyelid twitched.

His eyes narrowed. “Why don’t I want to marry you?”

I nodded.

“You really need an answer to that, when this whole arranged marriage scheme is the ridiculous plot of a senile old woman?”

“Your grandmother didn’t seem senile to me when I met her earlier.” She’d seemed shrewd and intelligent. Utterly focused on her goal of saving her town before she died. I’d shaken her hand and felt a twinge of regret for lying my way to this point. Only a twinge, though. “She told me your brother and his new wife are happily married and in love.”

Jack’s breath gusted out. “A fluke.”

“Fine. So you don’t believe in arranged marriages, and you refuse to participate. Have I got that right?”

He lifted his hands and shrugged, like I’d stated the obvious. “And I won’t put my daughter through some sham just to satisfy my grandmother’s urge to matchmake.” This, Jack said with more force. The smooth veneer of his expression cracked, and I saw the wolf within. He cared about his kid.

It was my turn to see him in a new light. I tilted my head, studying him. “And yet you’re still talking to me. That tells me two things.”

The silence between us thickened. He didn’t want to bite, but the curiosity got the best of him. “Which are?”

I smiled. Not so unruffled when annoyance stung him, was he? “First, either you care deeply about your grandmother despite your words, and you want to make her happy, or…” I tilted my head, remembering the assessing, canny look Etta Mars had given me. “Or she has something on you, and she’s forcing your hand.”

Jack twitched. It was a subtle movement of his shoulders, an involuntary jerk.

“What is it?” I asked, nothing but harmless curiosity in my tone.

“It’s none of your business, that’s what it is,” he shot back. The veneer cracked a little more. Ha.

I realized I was enjoying myself. That probably made me at least a little evil, but I was beyond the point of that kind of self-reflection. I was walking this path whether it was good for me or not.

I couldn’t resist prodding him a little more. “So it’s something to do with your kid.”

The reaction was immediate. He leaned forward, hands on the arms of his chair, features carved in stark relief. I’d touched a nerve. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

I inhaled. The force of Jack’s anger was a physical thing. It pressed against me, pushing me deeper into my seat. It made my heart thump and my palms start to sweat. He watched me like he wanted to rend me limb from limb. Like he was salivating at the thought of my very grisly death. A wolf with fangs bared, preparing to lunge for my throat.

Was it fear making my stomach tighten? Or was it simply the effect of holding Jack Mars’s full attention?

I had no interest in finding out. At least that’s what I told myself. I was not the type of woman who held the attention of a man like him. I was invisible. Boring. Unremarkable. An actuary with a head full of numbers and a pathological fear of risk. As such, I’d never been the center of an attractive man’s focus—even if it was simply as a target for his anger.

Despite what I told myself, a secret, violent thrill went through my gut. A part of me—a big part of me—liked it when he looked at me and only me.

The logical part of me, which, up until this point, had been in total control, hoisted a big red flag and began to wave it around.