Page 5 of Merging Wright

Sleeping with Mach-emy—another name I’ve called him to my sisters—would not be smart.

“Want to explain?” My voice remains low but tight. With my arms wrapped around my middle, I’m holding myself together. A strange sense of foreboding tickles my skin. While eruptions are not unusual from Mach, the tremble underneath his tone is. The tension around him is disturbing.

“My grandfather died.”

“Mach.” My arms fall to my sides. Everything in me wants to rush him and hug him. “I’m so sorry.”

In my family, we were close with our granddad. Our grandfather was the only father figure us Fox siblings had, and he adored us each in his own way.

“Don’t be.” Bitterness and hurt fill Mach’s knife-sharp voice.

I nod, although I don’t know what I’m agreeing to. “Is that what the letter says?”

Mach shakes his head, gaze lowering toward the floor. He sits in his desk chair. His feet are spread, and his forearms come to rest on his thighs.

Assuming he’d like some private time to collect his thoughts, I swallow a lump in my throat, and say, “I’ll leave you alone.”

“No!” Mach’s head snaps upward. Clearing his throat, he repeats himself, “No.” He focuses on me as he had on the street. He’s never looked at me like he did on that sidewalk. Like he’s lost. Like he’s confused. Like he needs me. That last thought is absurd. Mach is one of the strongest, most confident men I’ve ever known. I’d go so far as to call Mach egotistical and selfish, which I have called him on occasion.

“Jane, I’ll be taking a few days off to attend the funeral and sort out this . . . this shit.” He turns for the letter, lifts the paper, and then tosses the sheet back to the desk again as if it singes his fingers.

“I understand.” He’ll need me to cover for him as I’ve done in the past when he is out of the office. “If you could just bring me up to date on the Torres campaign and—”

“I’ll need you to come with me.” His eyes seek mine again, holding me pinned in place. The typically dark color is murky, almost as if pained to ask me—no, tell me.

“You . . . what?”

“I don’t quite understand what’s going on, but if I know anything about Fischer Wright, even from the grave, he has something up his sleeve that smells as fishy as his name. And I . . . I need a huge favor, Jane.”

His eyes express the darkness of deep regret, and I’m not certain I like the look but hesitantly answer anyway. “Okay.”

“I need you to pretend to be my wife.”

4

Playlist: “Marry Me” – Thomas Rhett

[Mach]

Her mouth falls open and then clamps shut. I’ve just dropped the mother of all bombs on her.

Jane is a trusted employee. I’d go so far as to call her a friend in the way one considers a work colleague a friend. But despite my never-ending fantasies of spreading her wide on my desk, I do not have a romantic interest in her. Romance is a fallacy. Her drive—and that smoky voice—are sexy as hell but that’s where the attraction stops.

Proposing she be my wife—I mean, asking her to pretend to be my wife—is a lot to consider. However, there’s one thing Jane wants from me, and it’s unfortunately not a romp on my desk. “I’ll make you partner if you do this.”

Her succulent mouth gapes. She rapidly blinks behind those yellow frames. Then, slowly her lips seal for another second before she speaks. “Are you bribing me?” Offense is deep in that raspy tone of hers.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Stop talking.” A raised palm and her sharp retort surprise me.

Something inside me that has no business thumping begins to thump. My blood warms back up after sliding into a deep freeze upon seeing my old truck outside and the note from my mother stating Fischer had passed away.

“Mr. Wright.” Jane pauses. When she calls me the moniker in all her authoritative manner, my dick starts to rise. Now is not the time for a boner but her strong command, raised hand, and pointed glare have me wanting to bend her over the black leather couch in my office.

“I have worked here for eight years. I work hard, giving up weekends and vacations and family time—”

“Are you already married?” She doesn’t wear a ring. I’ve never heard her mention someone special. She’s speaking of family but what family? The thought is silly as her younger sister is the new love of my business partner, however, there is surprisingly little I do know about Jane.