… that her father would never forgive her for. And she would never forgive herself.
She couldn’t face that. And it was time to step up. To do what she’d been doing all her life—make the choice that would best benefit her family legacy and all of the employees who depended on her family for their paychecks.
“I’ll take them.” Her words sounded flat and harsh in the silent night air.
“A very wise choice, Vanessa.” Lazaro’s expression didn’t change, his eyes remained flat and dark, latent heat smoldering there, his square jaw still set firmly. But she could feel a change in him, a subtle shift in the energy radiating from him. It resonated in her, caused a response she couldn’t ignore or deny.
She looked at the cool, hard man standing in front of her. To him, this was business. Another way for him to climb to the top. She just had to see it the same way. She couldn’t afford to involve her heart.
“I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” she asked.
“Not one that had a better outcome. And you’re a smart woman. You know that the end result is all that matters.”
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
