“If you’d have answered me, then I would have opened the bloody door!”
“But that wouldn’t have been any fun,” he sighed, shaking his head. The urge to punch him only rose higher inside of me. He was such a damned asshole that I could hardly stand it.
“What could I possibly do to help you, Tristan? You’ve never needed my help in the past. Why start now?” I set my jaw, my eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to look stern, though every time I looked into those gorgeous eyes I wanted to melt into the floor.
“Because I need something that only you can help me with, Gwennie.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, my cheeks filling with color. “I told you never to call me that!”
“Which is why I do it,” he said in a sing-song voice. I wanted to scream.
“You’re not making a good case to get my help, Tristan. Whether we’re family or not, I don’t like being toyed with,” I said. “If you want to do business, then we’ll talk business. No games.”
I watched as his perfectly groomed eyebrows rose, and a shocking expression of... admiration spread across his face before his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. If I wasn’t so determined to be the kind of hard-ass who could stand up to him, I would have been surprised… and practically drooling at the way he looked in that suit.
“Sorry, Gwendolyn,” he began, clearing his throat. “I really do need your help.”
“With what, exactly?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You’ve never needed my help before—for anything. What’s so different?”
“I need to get married.”
My heart flipped and forgot to flop. “I beg your pardon?” I asked, slowly lowering myself back down into my office chair. I didn’t want him to show it, but those simple words had me shaking. Tristan wanted to get married? But what in the world for? He’d never wanted to be tied down—he’d even decried marriage to be archaic and backwards, an institution that should have been left behind in the Middle Ages. “What in the world would you need to get married for?”
“Because I actually want to claim my inheritance, Gwendolyn,” he said, no shortage of edge to his voice. His expression soured suddenly and he began to pace.
“I thought that you were already set to inherit,” I said, frowning as I leaned forward, elbows on my desk. “I mean, I know that with the new boy there’s a second heir, but you’d have priority as your father’s eldest son, wouldn’t you? I thought that was how this all worked.”
“It would be exactly that… if I was my father’s legitimate son.”
I leaned back, eyes wide as Tristan locked his gaze with mine. I’d known that Tristan’s mother had died in childbirth, but that he was born out of wedlock was something I’d never known. Though as I allowed that information to sink in, things began to make more and more sense, especially Lord Wolfe’s general coldness toward Tristan for all the years I’d known them.
“I never knew you were a…”
“?‘Bastard’ is the common term,” he said, shrugging in an attempt to seem nonchalant, though by the sour expression on his face I could tell that the term bothered him. “I am my father’s by-blow from his days as a stallion, bedding women left and right through his years in college. My mother being one of many—though the only one that he managed to get pregnant.”
“Surely, he took responsibility—” I began, though Tristan’s sharp, barking laugh cut me off.
“Only because he was pressured,” he said, his tone scornful. “My father didn’t care much for the idea of caring for his illegitimate child any more than I liked being under his watchful gaze. I was more than happy to see him leave for London on business while I stayed behind.”
“And now, with the child on the way, you need to cement your position as the heir to his legacy,” I said, turning my gaze away from him for fear that my thoughts might again wander to more unseemly places. “Which is why you need my help.”
“Spot on,” he replied, that smirk returning as though it had never left. “I need to be married to a respectable woman—an honest man with a family of his own.”
“I have a feeling that you might not get the results that you’re expecting from this, Tristan. I don’t just try to set up marriages, I try to encourage actual relationships. I mean, if you’re expecting to marry this woman in a matter of weeks or months, then I don’t think this is—”
“Let me worry about that,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “After all is there a woman alive who can resist a man like me?”
I have, I thought, though I fought the urge to give in to that stunning smile whenever I saw him. I could already feel my heart fluttering, my pulse rising just from the way he moved and spoke. Maybe this was the best thing that I could do for him—and me.
If Tristan was married off, then he’d be gone and out of my hair. I’d be free from the constant temptation to maul my own stepbrother, begging him to ravage me just like I’d dreamed of. I licked my lips nervously. This might be the answer to my problem—a permanent solution to something I’d thought solved years ago. Though part of me cursed the thought I’d never get what I’d always desired—desired, but knew that I could never possess.
“All right,” I said after a brief silence. “I’ll help you, but first we have to get a few questions out of the way.”
“And before that,” Tristan said, coming just a little too close to me, that smarmy grin on his handsome face, “I think your big brother could do with a hug.”
Chapter 68
“Come here,” I said as I walked around her desk, my arms spread wide to envelop her in a hug.
I was honestly surprised she’d even agreed to my insane plan, much less the prospect of finding me a wife in such short order. To be truthful I was hardly sure whether my plan would work at all, but I knew little Gwennie liked a challenge. Especially when it involved matters of the heart.
“I—no! Tristan I can’t—” she tried to say as I pulled her into a tight embrace. I could feel her body tensing as I pulled her against me, and I distinctly hear her let out a little gasp. More like a squeak, really—that same mousy sound she used to make whenever I got too close, like that night in the kitchen before I left for Afghanistan. She’d been making that sound, and so many more, and as soon as I heard it, something dark and primal pulsed through my groin. Was Gwen still hot for me after all this time?
Interesting, I thought, trying to hide the smirk on my face. Knowing my goody two-shoes stepsister still wanted me was validating, to say the least. And intriguing…
“Have a seat, please,” she said, her voice stiff as I pulled out of the embrace. Her face was flushed as she tried to straighten her outfit, her hands trembling. I knew I had a mission—a goal that all of this was for—but seeing Gwen after all of this time brought back the thoughts I’d get when I caught her staring at me as we grew up. She’d been so awkward, all arms and legs as a teen, but about the time she turned eighteen something had happened. All of a sudden she had curves and an ass that I would have killed to get my hands on. All of this, however, was stymied by the fact that on no circumstances was I allowed to lay a land on sweet little Gwennie, no matter how much I would have liked to. She was my stepsister, and the scandal alone would have gotten me disowned right before it gave my father a coronary.
That only served to make me want it more.
“I have a few questions I need to ask you before we can get you matched with one of the women I have on our client list. Just standard personality question on what you’re looking for in a match,” she said, clicking a few times on her mouse.
“Ask away,” I said, leaning back in the comfortable office chair opposite her. “I’m an open book.”
“Two open for his Lordship’s liking, I would say,” Gwen whispered, though must have realized how loudly she’d said it all too late. “I… I mean…”
“It’s all right,” I assured her, smiling a bit as I relaxed. “I know very well what my father thinks of me.”
Gwendo