Page 150 of The Temporary Bride

I glance around at my brothers’ faces, noting the subtle tightening of Dominic’s jaw, how Beckett exhales and leans back on the couch. Nobody seems surprised, but nobody seems all that happy either.

Our mother continues, “The terms of your father’s will specify that marriages have been arranged for each of you. As with Tristan’s marriage, the will stipulates that each of you must enter into these marriages and remain married for a specified period of time. This will be a requirement for maintaining your positions and shares in the company.”

A murmur of frustration ripples through the room.

Dominic’s voice cuts through the silence. “For fuck’s sake. This is ridiculous. We don’t really have to go through with this, do we?”

“You do.” She nods, her expression unyielding. “The marriages are a condition of the will. They are meant to ensure stability and continuity for the business. This was your father’s vision for the company, and look at how well it turned out for Tristan.”

I shift uncomfortably. Yes, it turned out well for me, but there’s no guarantee it will go as well for my brothers, and the tension in the room is climbing.

“It’s great that Tristan is in love, Mom,” Dominic says, exasperated. “Don’t get us wrong. But he hit the fucking jackpot with Chloe. There’s next to no chance that the rest of us get that lucky.”

I glance around at the others. Beckett’s face shows similar frustration as the reality of our father’s demands sets in.

“So who’s next?” Beckett asks, his eyes narrowing as he rests his elbows on his knees.

Our mother takes a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over us. “A match has been made for Gabriel,” she says.

The announcement lands like a jolt, and I look over at our oldest brother. His usually composed demeanor cracks as he jerks slightly, like he’s been hit.

I can guess why. He’s already been married once, so he probably thought he was exempt from my father’s stipulations. He wasn’t expecting this.

“Wait, you’re not serious,” he protests. “I thought⁠—”

“Gabriel, you will be engaged to Alexis Beaumont,” our mother says, as if oblivious to his shock. That name, I definitely recognize. Alexis Beaumont is the scion of a wealthy family in LA, and if memory serves, she’s quite young.

Gabriel’s eyes widen, his disbelief turning to anger. “You must be crazy,” he says, his temper flaring. “Alexis Beaumont is half my age!”

Our mother doesn’t flinch. “She’s twenty-five, Gabriel. There’s nothing scandalous about that.”

“Nothing scandalous?” Gabriel gestures sharply. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re going along with these insane demands our father made, and you expect us to just roll over and accept it?”

I grimace at the edge in his tone. This is more than inconvenient for him—it’s dredging up a painful past, reopening wounds that hadn’t even closed. Of course he doesn’t want to get married, not after everything he’s already lost.

My mother opens her mouth to respond, but Gabriel cuts her off before she can speak, his voice icy. “If Dad wanted to make these kinds of sweeping decisions in our lives, he should’ve made more of an effort to stick around.”

She pales, her lips thinning, and lifts her chin. “There’s no point in arguing with me. This is written into the will, and I’m not going to fight your father’s last wishes.”

Gabriel’s hands clench into fists. I’m expecting him to lash out, to yell, but he doesn’t. Instead, he storms out, his arms stiff at his sides.

My mother turns to me, her expression almost pleading. For all that I understand Gabriel’s frustration, I also know that this isn’t her fault. She’s doing what she can for my father, even now. She believes in him, trusts him, despite the many ways he let her down.

I think of Chloe, of my commitment to her, every bit as dogged as my mother’s commitment to my father.

Reluctantly, I rise from my seat and follow Gabriel toward the door.

I find him out on the front steps, hunched, his elbows resting on his knees. The sky above is a pale gray, and there’s humidity in the air, uncommon for this time of year in LA. Hopefully, we’ll get some rain. We desperately need it.

I sit beside Gabriel on the stoop. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge me. I let the silence sit for a moment before I speak.

“You had no idea that was coming, did you?”

He lets out a short, humorless breath. “No. I didn’t.” He still doesn’t look at me, his jaw tight, staring at the driveway. “I thought being a goddamn widower might count for something. Apparently not.”

“Gabriel—”

“You think this is the best we can do?” He finally glances up, gesturing with one hand. “Just fall in line, play the game Dad left for us? You’re okay with that?”