Married on Paper: The Argentine's Price / The Inherited Bride / Marriage Made on Paper

She wanted to be that woman. She tried to be that woman. Because that was the woman who was going to pull Pickett out of the red.

“Pickett Industries is all that matters,” she said slowly, feeling the virtual shackles tightening on her wrists even as she spoke the words.

CHAPTER THREE

SURREAL didn’t even begin to describe it. Waking up and realizing she had consented to marry Lazaro Marino the night before was surreal on an epic scale worthy of Salvador Dali. Given the state of things, she wouldn’t have been shocked to see her clock melt off the wall.

But, as surreal as it was, it was her new reality. Nonetheless she couldn’t make it feel real. She felt as if she was in a fog that not even driving to work through Boston’s harrowing traffic could shake her out of. And when she sat down at her desk it didn’t get any better.

It was early, the sun rising pink against the skyline of the city. Vanessa picked up her smartphone and snapped a picture. It was muted, nothing like it would have been if it had been done with an actual camera, something she’d never bothered to buy for herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford one, but she didn’t have time to indulge in any hobby that didn’t directly benefit her company.

She would have even less time as CEO of Pickett Industries and fiancée to Lazaro Marino. She looked at her left hand. It was bare, no engagement ring. But there would be one, she had no doubt about that. Lazaro was a man of details and a detail like that wouldn’t be overlooked.

She leaned forward and rested her forehead on the cool wood of her desk. How had she gotten so deep into a life that she didn’t want? She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to halt the tears that were starting to form.

She’d made her choice. Long before Lazaro had walked back into her life, she’d made her choice to do what she had to do to keep Pickett Industries in the family. She’d gone to college and majored in business so she could see that that happened, and that she did the best job she could. She’d chosen to put everything personal on hold in order to keep the business afloat.

It was just a part of her duty to Pickett. It felt like more though.

A strange bubble of exhilaration filled her chest because suddenly her future was different. The man standing at the altar in her mind was no longer Craig Freeman; it was the one man who had inspired a kind of reckless abandon in her. The one man who’d made her want to break the rules.

By marrying him, she was both toeing the line and rebelling against it.

That was liberating in some ways, terrifying in others. And what she really wanted to do—hide under her desk until the storm blew over—was impossible because she had to keep it together. She was the CEO of Pickett. She couldn’t question her decisions, and she couldn’t hide from the hard stuff.

The choice was made. There was no going back. She was committed.

“And possibly in need of being committed, since you’re clearly certifiable,” she mumbled into the emptiness of her office.

There was the small matter of telling her father that she would not be following his “advice” and pursuing a marriage with Craig. And that Lazaro was the one she was choosing instead. His wrath would be monumental. But she was between a serious rock and a hard place, and the broken marriage agreement, such as it was, would be much more forgivable than the loss of the family legacy.

A sharp knock on her office door had her lifting her head quickly, smoothing her hair. “Yes?”

The door swung open and her heart dropped into her stomach. Whether it had been twelve years or twelve hours, Lazaro still had all the power to make her body hot and achy, to make her lips tingle with the desire to feel his kiss.

“Good morning,” he said, coming in without waiting for her permission. She doubted he ever waited for permission to do anything.

“Not especially. What brings you here?”

“I couldn’t stay away from my beautiful fiancée,” he said, his blinding smile making her stomach curl tightly.

Her stupid, traitorous heart leapt back into her chest and started thundering madly, despite the dry humor in his tone. She cleared her throat. “Right. Why are you here?”

“Because there are details we need to work out.”

“Right. Details,” she said, her voice hollow.

“There will be a prenup.”

“I would hope so,” she said, fighting to keep her tone neutral while nerves tightened her throat.

She didn’t know if she could go through with it. Marry him. Live with him. Sleep with him. Let her whole life get tangled up in Lazaro.

Speak now, or forever hold your peace.

She looked at him, at the hardened line of his jaw, the glint of steel in his dark eyes. It was too late. If she went back now, he would take everything from her. Everything that made her Vanessa Pickett.

The words stuck in her tightened throat.

“I’m not counting on a lifetime of wedded bliss,” he said, his voice dry.

“You aren’t?”

“Hardly. But what I am expecting is that you will stand beside me with all the duty and conviction of a politician’s wife.”

“What exactly does that mean?” she asked, feeling dizzy all of a sudden, fighting to convey only cool composure.

“During a political scandal, no matter how vile, the politician’s wife always stands beside her husband because it is about more than marriage. It is her job. This marriage will be your job.”

“Planning on creating a vile scandal, are you?” She treated him to her deadliest glare. He seemed entirely unaffected.

“Not in the least. But my point is that no matter what, your commitment to our union must outweigh the circumstances. If at some point we are leading separate lives it is of no concern to me, so long as appearances show a united couple.”

She’d been wrong about him being the friendlier option to her arrangement with Craig. As little as marriage with Craig had been truly discussed, she’d assumed he would at least try to be a husband to her. Lazaro wasn’t promising that. Not even close.

“Does that mean that even if you cheat on me I have to stay with you?”

“As I will stay with you,” he said, his voice hard. “The union, the legal marriage, is what I need. I cannot project thirty years into the future, but I will ensure that you are still with me.”

Vanessa was having a hard time breathing. It was as though he’d turned over her solid wood desk and placed it on her chest. Thirty years. This wasn’t a temporary arrangement. He was talking about the rest of her life. Shackled to this man.

She tried to imagine turning away again. Imagined telling him the deal was off, and he could take his shares and the entirety of Pickett Industries to hell with him for all she cared.

But she couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. They wouldn’t even form in her brain in a cohesive manner. The idea of Lazaro losing his hold on her didn’t open up a wide arena of possibilities for her life, rather, it showed just how narrow her scope of options truly was. Without Lazaro, the company crumbled. Without the company she had no job, no relationship with her father.

She’d promised her father, the week that Thomas died, that she wouldn’t fail him, and she’d set out to make sure she didn’t from that day on. She’d dropped out of the photography club she’d been in at school, started doing some basic business courses instead. Done whatever she could to ensure she didn’t let her father down.

In her mind, she was a Pickett. She was a loyal daughter. She was the CEO of Pickett Industries. Without that … she didn’t know who she was beyond that. And without Lazaro’s help, she wouldn’t be any of those things. Of course, it was his interference that forced her to choose. But without him, there might not be any choice at all other than to watch Pickett slowly sink beneath the waves of debt, another casualty of a shifting business landscape.

And while this might not have been her first choice for how her life would end up, it was the right thing. At least this way, she would keep the business going. She would have children who would eventually take over.

Her stomach cramped at the thought. Yes, she’d planned on having children someday, but if she said yes they would be Lazaro’s children. The room suddenly seemed much too small, Lazaro’s presence in it far too big.

Another thought, small and insidious, reminded her of that moment of pure exhilaration when she’d realized that she had changed her future. That she had diverged from the path so carefully laid out for her.

If she said no now, it was back to that path. Everything would stay the same. The thought was suffocating.

She shook her head. “I don’t want that.”