Chapter 3

THREE

The hate I have for my father is as deep as the love I have for my mother.

It's a shame she died before him. Infinite doesn't begin to describe how much better of a human being she was than him.

I remember the second I was told my mother took her last breath. A tight ball of emotion solidified in my chest as if it were forcing all the emotions to pour out of me without hesitation. It was the first time I cried since I was fifteen, when my father forced me to go to one of the strip clubs he frequented. The image of him snorting a line of cocaine off one of the dancer's bare backs will forever be stained in my memory.

I didn't cry when my father died. I didn't shed a single tear when I found him passed out on his balcony surrounded by shattered glass, spilled whiskey, and a bag of cocaine in his hand.

He died the way I'd always expected: alone. I should have felt sad. The panic and grief should have set in, but as I watched him be wheeled out of his penthouse in a black body bag, I felt nothing.

I'd lost empathy for him long before that day.

The thoughts in my head are harsh and visceral, but that's what you get when you're James Harding's eldest son. Raised to be ruthless and unfeeling. I'm convinced it was in his blood from the moment he was born. And his father before him, and so on, and so on. Each of us Hardings come from a long line of money hungry, corporate pricks.

The Hardings have had a long history of keeping up the thin veil of what's hidden underneath. Scandal and greed. My father went to great lengths and used whatever means he felt necessary to not only line our pockets, but stuff them as well.

Ten thousand black roses. Ten thousand people dressed in black. Ten thousand bodies pretending to care they even remotely loved my father. The sympathy in their eyes when they hugged me and my brothers, sharing their deep condolences for our loss. The way Jude's neck bobbed up and down every time he forced himself to utter the words ‘thank you.' I was convinced he was going to vomit all over the Italian marble we were standing on more than once. I don't blame him. Out of the three of us Harding brothers, our father fucked Jude up more than Micah or me.

While still working on wrapping my head around the damage my father has done to our family, I haven't been able to bring myself to a place of forgiveness. Not even remotely.

But despite all the ways I disagreed with him, we only shared one love.

Our family company.

And continuing to keep up with the Harding image was crucial to our status in the city. I didn't agree with the way my father handled himself, but I understood to a degree.

The image of our family to the eyes of the city and the world mattered.

It still matters.

Which is why I'm making it my number one mission to run the firm in the legacy he built. In fact, I plan on running it better than he ever did or could.

"Coming from the person who picked on me for edibles, you might need to look in a mirror every now and then." Jude moves to stand beside me. "Maybe consider switching to something a little less harsh."

"I'll quit smoking." I argue. "Will that be enough?"

He spins around and rests with his back against the wall, his hand shoved into his pockets. He doesn't answer my question. His light brown hair is slicked back and cut short at the sides, reminding me of how he used to be. Jude backed out of any involvement in the company a while ago. The longer he's been away from our world, the more he's changed, and for the better.

I laugh and shake my head, pouring myself another whiskey. I'm already bordering on being too drunk for public, but I don't give a shit. Days like today call for this level of drinking.

"Come on." I shake my head and gesture toward Jude with my now-full glass. "One more for good measure. You know Dad would have approved."

His smile immediately turns to a frown. I feel like a dick for being the cause.

"Whatever." He sighs heavily, pushing himself off the wall. I don't miss the way his eyes roll as he steps away. "I just hope we can get this shit show over with quickly so I can go home as fast as humanly possible. I don't even know why I'm here."

"Because you're still his son." I deadpan.

If I weren't already a dick for my comment a second ago, I definitely am one now. I've just added more gasoline onto the fire that is my brother's resentment to our father. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the funeral or the day in general. Something has me on edge.

"A fact that will never change," Jude mutters. "For the record, I only came to the funeral to show support for you and Micah. I get I no longer have a place in the family company, but you're still my brothers."

"Let's just see what happens." I give him a reassuring smirk.

"Sure," he says unconvincingly, then he leaves me in front of the beverage cart without another word.

I stare at the gold painting hung above it, beside where Jude was just standing. I can't explain it, but it angers me. The way the light reflects off the gold brush strokes. The way I couldn't even tell you where it came from or how long it's been nailed to this fucking wall. Every inch of it ignites a fire beneath my skin.

I lift my glass, down its contents, and I'm quick to refill it.

My younger brother Micah walks into the study and heads straight for the beverage cart I'm standing in front of.

"Leave enough for me?" he asks with a light smile.

The youth in his expression doesn't waver. He's twenty-three but acts as if he's still sneaking liquor out of our father's secret stash at the office at the ripe old age of eleven. He's always been the little brother who tagged along with his two older ones.

"Of course," I tell him.

His smile deepens when I pour him a glass. He takes a gingerly sip and points to me. "I didn't think we were supposed to have this meeting until next week. Isn't that usually how these things go?"

"Perry flagged me down after our toast out in the great hall." I look away from the gold painting. "He said talking over the will couldn't wait until then."

"Oh." He nods, sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth. I can tell he's nervous.

Micah is mine and Jude's half-brother, but we've never thought of him any differently than if he were our full blood brother.

Conceived from one of his countless affairs, our father couldn't risk the reputation he might have created had he not claimed Micah when his mother told everyone she was pregnant by the famous James Harding.

Treating Micah like a business transaction, Dad considered the pros and cons, deciding the pros of having another son outweighed the cons of denying he had another and the media spinning a story of scandal surrounding our family name.

Classic James Harding.

Micah leaves me and sits beside Jude in one of the large leather chairs situated in the room. Surrounded by old law books and dark leather and espresso-stained furniture, my stomach turns. This isn't how I remember this room, and with the way Jude refuses to look away from Micah, I know he's thinking about it, too.

Thankfully, the ping of a text coming from my pocket pulls me away from my thoughts before they stray too far.

I unlock my phone to a message from Madison.

Madison: If you're ready for round two, I'll be in the courtyard. Come find me…

A picture of her hand, slipped between her slick folds, pops up underneath her first text. Her fingertips are pressed against her clit. She's resting against a flourish of bright pink and red flowers as she's fingering herself. Not at all too different from where I was with her only twenty minutes ago.

I tighten my grip on my phone and fight the urge to leave the room and play Madison's game, but this meeting with my father's lawyer is too important.

My phone screen fades to black the second I hear the sharp clicking of heels meeting the smooth marble floor. My father's assistant, Sienna, strides into the room, followed by our family lawyer, Perry O'Connell.

Sienna moves to stand near the largest window overlooking the back gardens jutting up against the bay—most likely where Madison is waiting for me. Sienna sniffs and swipes the tips of her fingers under each of her eyes as if she's erasing her tears. As if we won't notice she's been sobbing since the second she found out about my father's untimely demise.

After wiping her tears, she sips on her glass of champagne in silence. Tangled up in her grief, she's drank every glass of champagne offered to her since the reception started.

As horrible as it is to say, I look at her with pity. I know the affair my father and her had over the years meant more to her than it did him. All his affairs were meaningless. Two years ago, I walked into his office for a meeting as she was crawling out on all fours under his desk. Pink cheeked and tousled hair, she shuffled out of the office without daring to chance meeting my eye. My father leaned back in his chair and smiled as if his eldest son hadn't just caught him with his assistant's mouth around his cock.

Still, today, I can see the shame and embarrassment in her eyes. My pity for her has grown, knowing my father used her like he did everyone else in his life.

"Thank you for coming, everyone," Perry says behind me.

I spin around to face the room, turning my back on the gold painting.

Perry O'Connell, my father's long-time attorney, sits on the large, leather sofa situated in the middle of the study. The one none of us wanted to claim when we entered the room.

Jude and Micah are seated in chairs opposite the sofa. I walk over and stand between them, clutching onto my glass as if it's giving me the will to stay and listen to what Perry has to say.

Sienna remains near the window.

Perry half turns, looking at her over his shoulder. "Thank you for coming," he tells her. "I know it's strange for you to be here when this is a family matter, but you're mentioned in the will."

Sienna's eyebrows shoot up. Shock settles in her eyes as they dart between my brothers and me. None of us answer her silent question, all of us shocked to hear she's in the will as well.

"Now," Perry addresses the three of us, "I'm sorry we had to meet on a heavy day such as this one."

Jude scoffs, and I snap my head to the left, pinning him with a hard stare.

He shrugs and a small smile spreads across his mouth.

Resting in Perry's lap is a large, leather-bound folder. He cracks it open, the material stiff as though it's never been opened before.

My eyes fall to the first page.

In large bold letters at the top, I read:

THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF JAMES DEAN HARDING

"Before we get too deep into this, I'm going to begin with Sienna," Perry starts.

Sienna moves through the room and stands behind me. She keeps her distance, but she's close enough to join us. Her body tenses while she holds her breath.

Perry flips three pages, then looks up. He slides a piece of paper from the pocket of the leather-bound book and holds it out for Sienna. "This is in James's words. I've been instructed to read it as it is written." His eyes shift nervously between Sienna and me before looking down at his lap. "To my assistant, Sienna Thompson. Your employment at Harding Holdings is to be terminated the moment this statement is read to you. I've instructed my lawyer to give you a severance pay for your years of dedicated service to my company. Since I am gone, your services are no longer needed."

Silence descends upon the room. Well, aside from Micah muttering, "What the fuck?" under his breath.

Jude blows out a heavy breath. I watch Sienna's shaking hand grab the check from Perry's hand. A single tear spills over her eye. Then another one. She immediately looks at me. Immense sadness and pain fills her gaze. More than it has all day.

This is it. This is the moment where my father finally breaks her. After what feels like several agonizing minutes, but is probably only seconds, Sienna inhales a sharp gasp. She quickly covers her mouth and wraps her arm around her stomach as she spins, then without another word, races out of the room, her cries filtering through her covered mouth on her way out.

We all remain silent until we can no longer hear the clicking of her heels.

"What the fuck was that?" Jude asks, stunned. He runs his fingers through his hair and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I'm sorry," Perry apologizes. "I knew the reading of your father's will wasn't going to be easy. He insisted I address Sienna before continuing with the rest. Honestly, I think it was for the best I let her go now. Saved her from having to sit here through the whole thing before finding out she was let go."

I narrow my eyes in disbelief. That's exactly the kind of logic my father would use in life. Treat people like shit then convince yourself you did it for their benefit.

"I'm not sure what I envisioned for this meeting," I say, "but I can't say I'm surprised."

"Agreed." Jude sighs, sitting back in his chair.

"Okay, next order of business." Perry breathes out, flipping another few pages. "Micah. You're next."

Micah straightens his back, sitting taller. He turns to me and Jude, giving us a small, nervous grin in anticipation.

At this rate, we're all biting the tip of our tongues, waiting for the unexpected.

"To my youngest son, Micah Lucas Harding. I leave you all four of my properties overseas. The houses in London, Edinburgh, Paris, and Barcelona."

Perry hands Micah a single document. He takes it and keeps his head down as he reads over the fine print.

"This paper goes over all the basics," Perry explains, pointing. "You'll need to come down to my office, or I can meet you at yours to sign all the paperwork necessary to get the properties into your name."

"Wow." He nods, taking a resolving breath. "I don't even know what to say."

"Um…" Jude's eyebrows arch. "Congratulations, brother."

Micah nods as he looks down at the paper in his shaking hands. The heavy thoughts are glaringly obvious. "Thanks, I guess. I don't know why, but it feels wrong to be excited about this."

"You should be excited." I reach out and massage his shoulder. "Don't feel guilty."

He gives me a relieved smile. "I appreciate it."

"For my middle son, Jude Ryan Harding." Perry flips to the next page, then quickly looks up. He hesitates and clears his throat before reading the single line on the paper. "I leave him nothing but this message: the choice you made years ago to put yourself and your own interests above your own family has brought you here to this moment. You played with the fire long enough, you were bound to get burned."

My lips part the second I attempt to inhale. Air squeezes through my lungs as I look down at my younger brother. He doesn't move. His eyes are trained forward, staring at Perry.

"Jude?" I ask, nervously adjusting my tie.

"What, Lennon?" Jude asks, snapping his head to the right. His eyes are glazed over, but there isn't a hint of sadness or anger.

"Are you okay?" I place my hand on his shoulder.

"Of course." He sighs, life returning to his face. "If that asshole would have left me anything, I planned on donating it anyway. This just proves to me that I made the right decision. Every time."

"I'm sorry." I look at him sympathetically. "If I could do anything…" I hate what our father did to him. Since finding out the truth, it's been difficult to not keep business and family separate. But this career I've built is bigger than my father and the shit he pulled when he was alive. I hate the pain my brother has suffered through, but the only life I've ever known is this one.

"Don't be sorry," Jude reassures me, running his hands along his knees. "In hindsight, I think I expected this. I'm surprised I'm mentioned in his will at all."

I open my mouth to let my brother know I still love him. I want to tell him I've only ever wanted to erase the memory of our father in this city but keep the legacy he built. But Perry interrupts before I can tell him I aim to do whatever I can to make it better for the Harding name.

"Now onto Lennon." Perry addresses the room.

I nervously shove my hand in my pocket and curl my fingers into a tight fist.

Perry flips to the next page. From where I'm standing, there are clearly more words typed on the page than either of my brothers'.

"To my eldest son, Lennon James Harding. For your unwavering loyalty, I leave one hundred percent of the shares in Harding Holdings, LLC. I give you the entirety of the company, along with all its employees and clients. I gift you the three penthouses in Boston, the house in Cape Cod, along with all my vehicles and belongings." Perry glances up. "He's listed each of these properties and assets on the next few pages."

"Wow." I nod, running my hand down the side of my face in disbelief. "That's quite . . ."

"There's more," Perry interrupts.

"More?" Micah laughs, draping his arm over the back of his chair, relaxing his back against it. "How could there possibly be more?"

"There's a condition."

"A condition." I should have expected this. My throat runs dry. Any condition from my father won't be a simple one.

"A small formality." Perry scrunches his nose and blinks in a way that makes me think it's anything but small .

"What formality?" I ask slowly.

"Your father says you receive all of this under the condition you get married."

"You're fucking joking," Micah blurts out. He's sporting a smile but it's more in disbelief than humor.

Jude clears his throat as if he was expecting this right along with him not receiving anything from our father.

James has always had the ability to dangle the prize in front of you, enticing you with its luster, and roping you in, but it always came at a cost. Always.

"You're not honestly going to get married just so you get all this?" Jude asks, twirling his finger in the air.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I'm frozen in place. Oddly enough, my mother's face comes to mind. The kindness in her eyes and how the color faded in them with every passing day until the day she died.

"Are you kidding?" Micah interjects, directing his astonishment at Jude. "He'd be losing the entire company if he doesn't."

"What happens if Lennon doesn't marry?" Jude asks Perry.

"Your father was very clear in his instructions." He answers Jude's question but keeps his attention on me. "If you don't marry within thirty days of today and remain married for at least one year, everything will be sold, and the firm will dissolve."

"Shit." Micah hisses. "Thirty days to get married? Thirty days is insane. Not to mention the need to stay married for an entire year ."

"Yes," Perry adds. "Once Lennon marries, he will own one hundred percent of all the assets your father listed and will be able to run the company freely. But if at any point he divorces before the first year, the condition becomes null and void."

Jude leans back in his seat and runs his hand down the side of his face.

The heaviness of silence descending upon the room allows the reality of my situation to hit me full force.

Fuck James Harding.

I admit knowing my father was an asshole when he was alive. A drug induced, money hungry, rich prick. But the longer I stand here, thinking of the lows my father has gone to even after his death, brings my disgust for him to a whole new level. Somehow, I hate him more as a dead man buried in the frozen, Boston dirt than when he was standing in front of me alive and breathing.

My chest aches, twisting into knots, and my stomach flips at the thought of marriage. It's not that I've completely written off the idea of being tied to someone for life, but I've honestly never given it much thought. My father wasn't exactly the greatest role model when it came to my mother or anyone else he was involved with.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"What are the details?" I manage to ask. "Since it's coming from my father, I'm assuming there are more details written in the fine print."

"Len," Jude warns. "I'm surprised you're even entertaining this foolish condition."

I inhale a deep breath and turn my head in my brother's direction. He's looking at me with nothing but care and concern, which I appreciate, but it isn't needed.

"I'm not exactly in a position to put my pride above doing what's best for this family, Jude."

"Bullshit," he spits angrily. "That's exactly what this is all about. Your pride."

"I'm not getting into this with you right now. You know me better than anyone, and you know I don't have a choice."

He pauses, swallowing his argument. "All I'm saying is, you deserve to marry someone you love. You deserve more than a contractual marriage."

"I get that, but this is what I need to do." I don't give him another opportunity to convince me not to go through with this. "What are the details?" I ask Perry again.

"Well…" He sighs. "Along with the thirty-day deadline, your father also stipulated you must marry someone from a specific family." He pauses, looking me straight in the eye. "The Branford family."

"You mean, Branford… as in Paul and Frederick Branford's law firm?" Micah asks.

"Yes." Perry nods. "But Paul Branford, Frederick's brother, passed away several years ago when he was on a camping trip with his wife in northern New Hampshire. Kellan Branford, their son, is currently serving a prison sentence for embezzlement charges and falsifying tax records."

"Great," I mutter.

"Kellan may be in prison, but Monroe and Laurel are considered to be fairly successful, despite the mark he's put on their reputation," Perry explains. "In fact, I saw them at the funeral today with their uncle."

"I wondered why they were here," Micah chimes in. "Dad never had anything good to say about their family." He looks up at me. "I wonder why he would have you marry into a family he hated."

I frown, unsure of his motivations, and unable to get my mind off Laurel.

I keep my mouth shut about the fact I already noticed her with her family at the funeral. I couldn't help watching her as she walked back to her car after the burial. Her black dress hugged every curve, and her eyes constantly moved, begging to be anywhere but where she was.

Then I saw her standing near the back of the crowd before my speech at the reception.

And again, in the courtyard when I had Madison's mouth wrapped around my cock.

I swallow the thoughts of Laurel as Perry slides the top paper out from his folder and hands it to me. I quickly read over it.

Everything Perry is saying is true.

The handing over of the company and all of our family's belongings only happen under the event I marry a Branford within thirty days.

Having nearly taken on every major legal case, both civil and criminal, in the Boston city area for the last thirty years, the Branfords have built their own reputation here.

I think back to last year when he'd tried to pawn Laurel, the niece to the head of the Branford law firm, onto me and my brother Jude the night we'd met at Eclipse for one of our weekly dinners.

Her dark, raven-colored hair. Those large, bright indigo eyes. Laurel sat across from me in her tight-fitting dress and her red-painted lips. It took all the strength I had not to stare. She thought I hadn't recognized her. Remembered her. I could see it in the way the corners of her mouth tilted down into a ghost of a frown.

But I did remember her. It's impossible to forget a face like hers.

The two names at the bottom of the condition of marrying catch my eye.

"Both Monroe and Laurel are listed here," I point out, attempting to keep my voice even toned.

"They are." Perry winces. "Although it appears you are given a choice, it isn't quite that simple. One of them is currently married."

My beating heart drops into my stomach like an anchor into the sea.

"Monroe has been married for a few years now," he explains. "Her sister Laurel, however, is single as far as I'm aware."

The truth in Perry's explanation hits me like a barreling train to the chest. My father may have given me the choice to marry whichever Branford sister of my choosing, but ultimately, I'm left with no other option.

Laurel is the only option.

The woman with raven hair and indigo eyes.

I look back at the gold painting hanging above the bar cart. The anger I felt staring at it earlier has subsided. Perhaps it's the alcohol. Perhaps it's reality setting in.

Thirty days until the company is mine.

Thirty days to convince Laurel Branford to marry me.

This is either the easiest business deal I've ever made or the most foolish one.