CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

Juliette

T HIS HAS TO be a joke. There is no scenario in this universe where Gavriil Drakos would propose to me.

I stare at the ring. It’s so opulent it’s almost comical.

“Is that fake?”

Gavriil glares at me.

“It’s a million-dollar ring, Grey.”

I’d laugh at the offense in his tone if I wasn’t still shell-shocked.

“Is there a hidden camera somewhere?” I look around. We appear to be alone on the bluff, but Gavriil could have easily paid for cameras to be secreted around the property. “Is this some elaborate prank to embarrass me? Punish me for looking into your family?”

He frowns at me like I’m an idiot.

“It’s a proposal, Grey. I’m asking you to marry me.”

“Why on earth would you want to marry me?”

He gives me a lazy smile, which stirs some of the warmth that’s lingered ever since our near-kiss in the grotto. I hate that he has that effect on me.

“I don’t want to marry anyone. But I have to.”

“Come again?”

He sighs. “We may not see eye to eye on some things, Grey. But on the subject of my father, we can both agree he was a bastard.” His lips twist into something menacing that makes my chest clench. The fury flickering in his eyes as he snaps the lid shut on the ring box gives me far deeper insight into just why he’s so successful at what he does than any research I could have done. For all his pomp and flash, Gavriil Drakos has a dark side. One that sends a not unpleasant shiver down my spine as I see a glimpse of the dominant leader behind the mask of amused arrogance he so often shows to the world.

“I shared at the press conference that Rafael and I inherited our shares of Drakos Development. What I neglected to mention was that inheritance is contingent upon my marrying and staying married for a year.”

My jaw drops.

“What?”

The snarl disappears as the amused glint I’m used to reappears.

“I had similar, if not more colorful sentiments, when I learned about it three days ago.”

“What happens if you don’t get married?”

The fury returns, hardening his face as his fingers curl around the ring box like he might crush the diamond in his grasp.

“Then I lose everything.”

It sounds absurd, like the plot of one of the cheesy yet swoon-worthy romance novels I read when I have time. Yet the stunning viciousness of it is what hits me hardest of all. I know firsthand how malicious and selfish Lucifer could be. But to hear he inflicted that emotional brutality on his own sons makes my heart ache for the seemingly impervious man standing in front of me.

“That’s sick.”

One thick brow curves up. “On that we can agree.”

“What’s the purpose? Did he doubt your ability to lead?”

He glances over his shoulder at Grey House. “You know how cruel and capricious he was. Did he need a reason to torment his sons from beyond the grave?”

There’s a story there, seething beneath his supposed apathy. A story that, for once, I want nothing to do with as I shove away my sympathy once more. I don’t want this personal detail of his life. I don’t want to see the pain of his childhood, to feel sympathy for him.

But why?

The question passes through my mind and freezes me in place. Why am I so determined to believe the worst of Gavriil and Rafael Drakos? Because they’re related to the man who ruined my father’s life? Because they’re wealthy? I was furious when Gavriil accused me of being prejudiced against rich people.

Except...he’s right. I’ve spent my career exposing the lies and hypocrisies of the rich and powerful. I’ve dedicated my life to ripping the masks off predators who hide behind money and power. But now...now I’m wondering if I’ve gone too far. Focused so hard on the people I’m chasing that I’ve been blind to the innocent people between myself and my own goals. People like Gavriil, who might be an arrogant bastard, but who is nothing like the man who fathered him.

Gavriil is offering me what I’ve wanted ever since Lucifer stole it: Grey House. More than that, he’s offering me a chance to help Dessie, to secure the future she deserves even if he doesn’t seem to know about the woman who held my life together.

Except this choice isn’t as black-and-white as the first one I made when embarking on this journey—to reveal Lucifer for who he really was to the world and ensure he could never hurt an innocent person ever again. This choice is layered with pitfalls, such as sacrificing my integrity as I marry a man whose values center on the two things I detest the most: money and power.

One year ago, the answer would have been simple. No matter how badly I wanted Grey House, it wouldn’t have been worth it.

But now, it’s not just about me. And as I stare at the familiar pillars and turrets of the home I grew up in, I also know that the career I’ve poured my heart and soul into is no longer the driving force behind my existence.

It’s a punch to the gut. One that leaves me breathless and adrift.

“So?”

I blink and refocus on Gavriil.

“So what?”

He holds up the ring. The massive stone glints in the weak sunlight fighting through the clouds. It looks nothing like a ring I would wear. Ostentatious, over-the-top. Even if Gavriil is nothing but a brazen billionaire, his preference for the finer things in life is off-putting.

“Why are you asking me? We don’t even like each other.”

He splays a hand on his chest.

“You wound me, Grey.”

“With what? Honesty?”

He chuckles. The sound is surprisingly warm, deep. It rolls through me, leaving a trail of wanting in its wake. My hands tighten on the gate. The wet wood is a necessary contrast to the heat I can’t seem to get rid of since our encounter in the spa. That heartbeat of a moment where I felt beautiful and sexy and desired.

“This has nothing to do with liking or attraction. It’s a practical decision.”

“For two people who don’t like each other to get married to satisfy the requirements of an asinine clause?”

“I have something you want.”

I can’t help it, can’t stop my eyes from drifting over his shoulder to Grey House. When I came back after I graduated college and took up residence in the cottage, it had nearly killed me to see the house every day. To remember which window I sat at with my mother when a winter storm lashed the town. To close my eyes and envision sitting on the balcony off my parents’ room as spring drifted in and warmed the wood beneath me. Aside from Dessie, it’s the one thing I have left of my family, my childhood.

And now it’s within reach. But Gavriil lied. The price is not reasonable. A year with him is a very steep cost.

“I’m sure there are any number of women who want something you could give them.”

“True. But none of them have something I want, too.”

My skin grows cold beneath the warmth of my wrap as his grin flashes white.

“Which is?”

“Your name on a contract swearing you’ll never write a poisonous word about Drakos Development again, or you’ll forfeit ownership of Grey House back to me.”

I rear back before I can stop myself. I knew there had to be more to this proposal. Hearing him state it out loud, as casually as if we were discussing the weather, infuriates me.

“You’re trying to bribe me.”

“No. I’m offering an incentive.”

“You’re splitting hairs, Drakos,” I spit out.

“Call it what you want, Grey.” The amusement vanishes, replaced by the steely-eyed businessman I’ve heard so much about but never witnessed firsthand. “We both know your research for the past four years has revealed no wrongdoing on my part. You have nothing but a vendetta against my father, driving this relentless campaign against my family. The fact that I have to offer you anything to get you to back off and leave us alone is a testament to your lack of professionalism.”

My lips part in shock. I flounder for a moment as his words stab straight into the heart of my doubts and insecurities.

His smile returns, but his eyes remain hard.

“So accept my offer. Live a life of luxury and glamour. Give your pen a break. Move back into your childhood home.” He looks back over his shoulder. “You’ve wanted it for years. It can be yours again.”

I bite my tongue. I’d heard rumors and firsthand accounts of what made Gavriil so good at what he did. The man has a knack for identifying people’s deepest desires and then making them happen. Easy to do when so many want money, or something money can buy them, and he has it in abundance.

I never would have thought myself capable of accepting any deal. But...

“What’s holding you back?”

His voice is silky now, dark and tempting. I avoid his gaze as I stare at the familiar pillars and curves of Grey House. I can’t tell him what’s truly holding me back. I don’t want to share that fear is making me pause: Fear that he’s right and I’m incapable of letting go of my vendetta. Fear that if I accept his offer, I’m giving in to someone who may not be the monster I imagined him to be, but still represents so much of what I don’t like about this world. Fear that if I don’t, I’ll never have another chance like this to solidify Dessie’s future.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and stifle a groan. My alarm reminding me about the social at Dessie’s facility. Catherine told me Dessie’s been sleeping more and more. Each day that passes when she can barely get out of bed, when her legs collapse beneath her and she won’t use the walker or wheelchair, spikes my fear higher and higher that she won’t come back from this.

Dessie...

My eyes snap back to the house. An idea appears. One that is most definitely selfish, as it will give me something I want even as it solves my most pressing problem. But one that also gives me back some of the control I’ve lost.

“Will this be in name only?”

A corner of his mouth twitches. “No sex required.”

It shouldn’t bother me how easily he agrees to no sex.

Whatever.

“Then I agree.”

I detest the satisfied smile that spreads across his face.

“I’ll have my lawyers—”

“I agree,” I repeat, “for Grey House and two million dollars, payable before the wedding.”

The smile disappears. Any satisfaction I would have derived from it is eclipsed by the icy cold that stills his features. I can feel the disapproval emanating from him as much as I can feel the renewed wind sweeping up from the sea.

“Everyone has their price.” He cocks his head to the side. “I didn’t expect yours to be so mercenary.”

I think of Grey House. I think of Dessie sitting on the patio in the summer with a raised garden bed that will accommodate her wheelchair if her prognosis worsens. I think of turning the empty guest bedroom into an office where I can work. Of not having to worry about money ever again, no matter what hurdles Dessie’s condition may throw in our path.

These are the thoughts that keep me from smacking the judgmental look off Gavriil Drakos’s handsome face. He may not be a criminal like his father. But he is a selfish creature who has no problems enjoying his own wealth even as he judges others for wanting a better life for themselves and the ones they love.

“Do we have a deal?”

He stares at me for one long second before nodding. I stick out my hand.

“Oh, no.” His eyes gleam. “A deal of this magnitude requires something more than a handshake.”

He flips the lid open on the ring box and takes the ring out before he grabs my left hand. I freeze as his fingertips warm my skin, barely hold back a shiver as he slides the ring on. It’s cold. Feels more like a shackle than the most expensive piece of jewelry I’ve ever worn.

“What happens now?” I ask as I cross my arms over my chest.

“Now you plan the wedding of the century.”

My jaw drops.

“What?”

“We have to convince the world that, after years of acrimony, we’re suddenly in love and desperate to get married.”

My brilliant idea now sounds brilliantly stupid as I stare at the man I’ve just bound myself to for a year. I thought we’d take care of this quickly and quietly: a simple ceremony, sign our names, then live out the rest of our sentence separately.

“Why not just go to the courthouse—”

“No.”

“Why not?” I ask, not bothering to hide the frustration from my voice.

“It’s not my style.”

“What if it’s mine?”

“My offer, my rules. Two,” he continues, his voice hardening, “there is to be no hint, not even a whisper, of the real reason for our wedding.”

“I take it I’ll be signing more than just a marriage license,” I reply dryly.

“An ironclad nondisclosure with the condition you’ll forfeit anything I grant you if you end the marriage early or tell anyone about the will.”

“What if I pinky promise?”

The brooding scowl disappears as he throws his head back and laughs. A deep, rich laugh that makes my skin tingle with the pleasantness of the sound.

“I don’t think that counts as legally binding.”

I sigh and wrap my arms tighter around myself, partly to ward off the lingering chill and partly to comfort myself.

“So you’re wanting this...circus to convince people we’re marrying because we love each other?”

“That’s part of it. No one who knows me would expect me to go to a courthouse. And,” he adds with a wicked grin, “there’s something satisfying about having you play the role of blushing bride.”

I roll my eyes, then curse as my phone vibrates again.

“I have to go.”

“I’m staying at the Seaside Inn through tomorrow morning. I’ll have my lawyers fax over the paperwork.” He reaches out and catches my arm as I start to turn away. “Come by later and I’ll have the hotel print them off for you to sign.”

“I’m busy tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

His body tenses.

“Busy doing what?”

I tug my arm away, not caring for his tone. “Busy doing something I already had scheduled before you decided to invade my home and bribe me.”

“I neglected to mention that dating or seeing anyone else is off-limits until our divorce is finalized.”

“Is that a two-way street?” I snap.

An image appears in my head, vivid and unbidden, of Gavriil rolling around naked in bed with some tall, glamorous model. It’s an extremely unpleasant vision.

Not because I’m jealous , I reassure myself.

“Adultery is not a habit I indulge in.”

Dear God, he almost sounds offended. Right after he just insinuated that I would be entertaining men on the side during the course of our so-called marriage.

“No,” I reply with a sweet smile, “just a new woman every week.”

He returns my smile with a slow curving of his full lips that draws my attention down to his mouth before snapping my eyes back up to his amused gaze.

“Jealous again, Grey?”

“Nothing to be jealous over. We’re not in a relationship.”

He reaches out and grabs my hand once more. This time, however, his touch is firm but gentle. My breath catches in my chest. His fingers wrap around my wrist as he slowly raises my hand so that my palm is facing him. The diamond glints back at me, large and dazzling and mocking.

“Hate to break it to you,” he says, his voice low yet no less powerful as it ripples over my skin, “but this ring says otherwise.”