Chapter 5

FIVE

"Are you out of your mind?" Frederick slaps a folder against his desk and falls back into his chair with a huff.

I sit in the seat opposite him and cross my arms over my chest. "He didn't have a case."

"That wasn't for you to decide," Fred argues. He stands from his chair and firmly places his hand on his hip. He starts pacing the five-foot space behind his desk. "I didn't send you over there to turn him down or talk him out of a lawsuit."

"What exactly did you send me over there for, then?" I ask skeptically, pinning him with daggers. "The man is having an affair with his gardener, and so is his wife. It's not as if she's stolen money from him and has run off with it. They were both screwing the same man. She hasn't done anything he hasn't already."

"Our firm needed this." He frowns, disappointed. He repeats it the same way he's said it the past one thousand times. He stabs his finger on the desk. "You could have found a way to make a case."

"Frederick." I sigh, sitting forward in my chair. I rest my hands on the edge of my desk. "You know that isn't how it always works. I'm a damn good lawyer, and you know that, too."

"I do." His eyes sadden as he turns to me. "You're like your father in that way."

I ignore his comment. I don't want to be like my father.

"I promise I will find another case I know we can win."

"I hope so." My uncle sits back down behind his desk, rocking against his seat. Sadness and guilt weigh heavy in his expression. He looks me straight in the eye. "If you weren't my niece, I would have been forced to let you go at this point. I don't want it to come to that but..."

The sincerity in his statement weighs on my shoulders. I swallow, knowing the struggle he's facing with keeping the firm afloat is in direct relation to what my brother did to the Branford name. The crimes he committed have had a lasting effect on our family and me in particular. Like my uncle, I've tried to keep our heads above water, hoping to rebuild what's been broken. And although my uncle may be desperate enough to consider taking on clients like Mr. Wright, I'm not ready to give in so easily.

"I understand." I nod. "I'll find another case to take up—one that is worthy of being represented by our name. There's no use in forcing cases when they will only further damage our reputation, Fred."

"Fine." He waves me off, clearly done with this conversation as well.

Frustration forms a tight knot in my chest. All my uncle ever sees is dollar signs, not caring the path he takes to make his money. Legitimately. Although my uncle's morals aren't as askew as my brother's, I can't help but sniff the same undertones of greed surrounding him.

I slide out of my chair and leave his office. I'm ready to call this shit show of a day to an end, but if I'm going to prove my decision of refusing to pick up Mr. Wright's case was the right one, I need to start putting feelers out for a new potential case.

On the way to my office, I check my phone to see if Roe called me back. She didn't, but I at least have a text from her.

Roe: Sorry, I was having lunch with Steven. I'll call you later tonight.

I type out a quick reply to my sister and push through the door to my office. The second I make it through the door and shut it behind me, I slide out of my heels and my blazer.

But when I look up, I gasp and fall back against the door. I raise my hand to my chest and stare at the person sitting behind my desk.

"Is this a habit of yours?" he asks, slowly wagging his finger up and down. "Getting undressed in your office?"

"What are you doing here?" I concentrate on my hand, counting the breaths I'm taking. Lennon Harding has never step foot in my office. Ever.

He's sitting in my chair, relaxed, with a smug expression. His deep blue eyes roam up and down my body as he runs his thumb across his lower lip. He smirks in delight before pushing away from my desk, rolling in my chair. He stands, adjusting his tie and buttoning his jacket as he crosses my office toward me. His eyes move up and down my body again. The corner of his mouth slowly curls, and his dark eyes flicker. "How far does this go? Is it your skirt next, or is it the blouse?"

He stops close enough to touch me. My cheeks burn. I lower my hand and take a deep breath, inhaling Lennon's scent. I try not to make it too obvious the way my body reacts to it.

"You're ridiculous." I lower my hand and push off the door, walking around Lennon.

He's quick to follow me, sitting down in the seat opposite my desk. I sit down in my own desk chair, thankful to have a three-foot-wide piece of furniture now between us.

Lennon's black suit hugs every inch of him. He doesn't look different than any other time I've seen him. Dark suit with tattoos peeking out of the sleeves of his undershirt. His dark hair resting just above his brow.

I raise an eyebrow and lean back. "Is this a habit of yours? Breaking into people's offices when they aren't in them?"

He laughs, his smile reaching his dangerous blue eyes. "It's hardly breaking in when the door is left wide open."

I shake my head in disbelief. "Having the Harding name doesn't give you permission to go wherever you please, Lennon."

His smile fades, and the light in his eyes disappears. He clears his throat. "I was under the impression Branfords thought the same."

He tilts his head to the side, narrowing his sinfully gorgeous eyes. If I weren't already sitting, I'd know the way he's looking at me would make me go shamefully weak in the knees.

I chew on the inside of my cheek and sigh. "What do you want? I've had an awful day already. Don't you have your father's business to take over and run now?"

He pops an eyebrow. "That bad of a day, huh?"

"Yes." I don't tell him about my meeting earlier with Mr. Wright or the discussion I just had with my uncle. "I'm sure you get bad days every now and then, too, but then again, that would mean you have feelings." I pause, giving him the darkest glare I can summon.

He's quiet as he rests his elbow on his chair. His eyes move to the window behind me overlooking the city.

"I saw you at the funeral." His eyes swing back to mine.

I swallow. It's difficult not to look at him without the image of the woman kneeling in front of him, sucking on his cock. But it's also difficult looking into his eyes now, remembering the vacancy in his eyes that day. Losing a parent is a feeling I'm all too familiar with. I wouldn't wish it even on my worst enemy. Even Lennon.

"What do you mean?" I swallow again. My skin tingles as I hold my breath. Does this mean he remembers our night together?

"You're a Branford." He states, dryly. "Branford's always seem to insert themselves in places they think will benefit them."

"Oh," I shoot him an icy glare and clear my throat, brushing off his calloused comment. And the disappointment working its way under my skin. "I was sorry to hear about your father."

"I wasn't."

I nervously swipe my tongue across my lips, unsure how to answer him. Maybe he doesn't feel the same grief I did.

"Oh, well." I wring my fingers in my lap.

"It's no secret my father was an asshole, Laurel. You certainly know that more than others."

"I do," I admit, thinking back to the night at the restaurant, Eclipse. James had brought me there, hoping to get me into one of his sons' beds so he could sneak his way into making a deal with our law firm. Despite the trap he'd put me in, he lost that night. He didn't make a deal, and I hadn't fucked either of his sons. That night, at least.

"Well," I grip onto the edge of my desk and stand. My feet pad across the floor as I round the desk, holding the door open for Lennon. "I have an appointment with a client in less than thirty minutes. So, if you'll excuse me."

Lennon stands and crosses my office. He places his hand on mine, keeping eye contact with me as he closes the door. I hold my breath, and my skin grows hot.

"I haven't gotten to my reason for being here." The door clicks shut.

I find myself standing in the same position I was in when I first stepped in here. My back is against the door and Lennon is in front of me, impossibly close.

Suddenly, I'm more nervous than I've ever been. The oxygen gets caught somewhere between my mouth and my lungs, never making it all the way down.

"Marry me."

The two words float between us like a hot air balloon. They swell, pressing against our chests.

Now the oxygen is completely stolen from my lungs, choking me.

At first, I don't think I've heard him correctly, but the lack of movement or follow up from Lennon tells me he's serious.

"Excuse me?" I gasp.

He lifts his arm and rests his hand on the door above my head, his scent surrounding me again.

"My father." His voice lowers. "My father placed a condition on me inheriting the company."

"And that condition is to get married?"

"Yes."

"Fine." I raise my chin and rest my head against the door to look up at him towering over me. "The woman you were with at the funeral seems like she would be a perfect choice for your wife."

He shakes his head slowly, the corner of his mouth curling. "It isn't that simple."

"Marrying someone isn't simple."

"You're right. But this condition makes it more complicated than usual. You're the only one I can marry."

A laugh escapes my mouth. Lennon doesn't flinch.

"Me?" I ask in disbelief. "Why me?"

"My father never felt he had to give reasons for his decisions, Laurel. It's part of the reason he got our family to where it is now." His eyes search my face. "He gave us thirty days to get married. I've already wasted three."

"He gave us less than a month to get married?"

"Yes," he says firmly. "And we have to stay married for at least one year or else our marriage doesn't count, and I lose the company."

"I'm not marrying you."

My shock transforms to anger. Lennon's proposal is reminiscent of my marriage to David. Despite the feelings I have when I'm around Lennon, it still doesn't change the fact I would only be his wife out of mere convenience. I would only be used as a means to an end. The same as what happened with David.

"I don't think you understand how badly I need this," he says. "I need to take on this company. If I don't, no one else will, and our entire empire will fall. We will lose it all."

"What do you mean, you'll lose it all?" My anger is twisting and tightening in my chest. "Don't you have two other brothers who can help? You can't tell me you don't have some sort of loophole you can find to get out of this."

"It's not that simple, Laurel. Don't be so na?ve. There is no loophole, and no one else can run this company. You know my brother Jude no longer works for our firm, and Micah isn't ready."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Micah isn't ready?" I don't hold back my cynical laughter. It climbs up my throat with minimal effort. "And what, you think you are? You can't force someone to marry you, Lennon."

I know my tongue is laced with resentment, but I can't help it. The realization Lennon is proposing to me in the only way he's capable of makes my bad day somehow turn even worse.

A business transaction. No feeling. No emotion hidden behind those cursed, beautiful eyes.

There's still no recollection of the night we met buried behind them. No sudden epiphany. No memory of the night I straddled his lap while he whispered sweet nothings into my ear.

His eyes are as vacant as his heart.

My body betrays my mind. Because as much as Lennon has shown me who he is over the past few years, I saw a different side to him the night we met. There was a softness to all the edges he's kept sharpened since.

I'm drawn to Lennon despite his coldness, but my mind won't allow me to entertain his proposal.

"Tell me what it will take for you to agree." He squares his jaw, unwilling to back down. "Is it money? I've heard your family doesn't have the same notoriety it once had. Sounds like they could use a marriage like ours."

"Yeah." Tears sting the back of my eyes. "My family might need this, but I don't."

I blink and inhale a deep breath, stepping to the side to get out from under Lennon's body, but his free hand is quick to wrap around my wrist, stopping me before I have the chance to turn away. "How much?"

My chest fills with immense shock. "You can't buy me, Lennon. I deserve a marriage that holds more value than money."

I hide the echo of the pain from my marriage with David. A marriage that only held monetary value and nothing else.

"Trust me, Laurel." He growls. "When you're my wife, I'd make sure our marriage meant more than money."

My breath catches and my heart pounds. I don't exactly understand what he means. Much like the night we met when he talked about sweet nothings. Cryptic and mysterious. That's all Lennon will ever be.

I swallow his promise of what a life would look like if he were to make me his. "I'm not certain you can do anything that isn't self-serving."

Lennon's hardened eyes soften only slightly. At first, I think I might get a glimpse of the Lennon I met all those years ago, or at least a moment of recognition, but it fades before I'm even certain I saw it.

He loosens his grip as if my words are an arrow shooting straight to his inflated ego. Slowly and deliberately, he drags the tip of his finger along the length of my arm. I shiver, and my breath catches. His eyes follow his touch. He stops at the base of my throat as if to count my pulse.

The memory of his touch six years ago comes back full force. A trail of heat blazes up my arm to where his hand is resting on my throat. I imagine a ring wrapped around his fourth finger. One that would show everyone he was mine.

Considering the type of man Lennon is and the world he comes from, it's a difficult concept to imagine. Especially in a world where the ring would be tied to me.

"I'm not trying to buy you. I…" He closes his mouth, and his nostrils flare. His eyes meet mine, cold as fucking steel. "Forget it."

With bitterness simmering in my veins, I manage to speak around my racing heart. "A pleasure as always, Mr. Harding."

With a hardened stare and a fixed jaw, he pushes away from the door. His stiff, rigid shoulders don't so much as flinch when I open the door and hold it open for him once again.

It isn't until he brushes past me and he's left my office do I finally allow oxygen to fill my lungs again.

Then reality hits.

Lennon Harding just asked me to be his wife and I said no.