“It’s a good idea and you know it!” West shouts back.
I have a feeling neither of them realize they have an audience.
“It’s a train wreck waiting to happen!”
Something slams in the distance. “It’s perfect. She meets nearly every box on my list—”
“You need to think about this! If things go south—”
“They won’t!” West roars. “If she agrees, this is the perfect solution. I’ll meet the provisions of my trust and she—”
“She what?” Colton asks. “What’s in it for her?”
Silence follows, and I can’t help but wonder if they’re talking about me.
West speaks again, and though this time his voice is softer, it still carries. “If she agrees, we can skip the auditions. If I can convince her to say yes, to help me…” He trails off, leaving the thought unfinished. “We already know there’s chemistry there, which makes everything easier. I…I asked her to come by.”
“When?” Colton barks just as the receptionist returns, coffee in hand.
“Oh my,” she murmurs. “Let me go deal with them. I’ll let them know you’re here, too.”
She scampers around the wall behind the desk, down a hallway I didn’t even know existed. “Your nine o’clock is here,” she says primly, “and you two idiots have given her quite the show.”
Two masculine groans trickle into the space, and I chuckle.
Blondie returns. “Mr. Larson will see you now.” I stand. “Oh, I’m Margaret, by the way; it’s nice to meet you.” We shake hands, and she guides me back to West’s office.
If I thought the lobby was grand, it has nothing on this space. An oversized desk takes up most of the far wall, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves making up another. There’s a gold bar cart in the corner and a stunning navy blue velvet sofa dead center, and tying it all together is a massive sheepskin rug.
West is at the bar cart, decanter in hand, while Colton is on the couch, rubbing his temples.
“Have fun,” Margaret whispers before heading back out to her post.
When neither man says anything, I do. “So, what’s this about?”
“Nothing, it’s a mistake,” Colton barks.
“It’s not a mistake. She’s perfect.”
“It’s a goddamn travesty,” Colton replies, his tone all vinegar.
“Um, excuse me. I am right fucking here, and one of you better start talking.”
The two men exchange a meaningful look. “Okay,” West starts. Colton shakes his head, but West pays him no mind. “My grandfather passed away recently—”
“I’m so sorry,” I interrupt.
He waves a dismissive hand. “He was a miserable, manipulative old bastard who makes Brock’s dad look almost saintly.” I recoil, because Everett Larson is a monster. “As I was saying, he passed away and left my Mimi Jean’s estate to me, along with some accounts.”
A beat of silence passes, and I just know whatever he’s about to say will be huge.
“In order to gain access to these things, there are conditions that must be met, and I only have a year to do so.”
Ohhh. I’ve read books like this. “What? You need a wife? I’ll do it.”
Both men stare at me like I’ve lost my marbles, and maybe I have. I mean, I’m about to start doing porn and just offered myself to marry my roommate. I think I need a drink.
West drains his glass and pours himself another. “Actually, I don’t need a wife.”
“What do you need then?” I ask, shifting on my feet.
Colton mutters something under his breath.
“A womb. I need a womb.”
I reel back. “You need a what now?”
“The trust says he must produce an heir before he turns twenty-five.”
I’m still not computing. “What?”
“A baby. I have to have a baby.”
My gears start spinning again—in overtime. “You goddamn asshole! You…you did this on purpose! You knew!” Tears fill my eyes and panic claws at my chest. “You knew!”
West approaches me, drink in hand. “I swear, it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“And what is she thinking, West?” Colton asks, rising from the couch.
My vision swims as the men close in on me. I snatch West’s drink from his hand, gulp it down, and shove the glass back into his hands. “I…I thought. You. We…I thought.” I can’t seem to string together a coherent sentence for the life of me, but that’s probably because it currently feels like everything I know is crumbling around me and I’m trapped in the ruins.
“Stacia.” West says my name softly, but I’m not falling for it.
“Answer me this: did you intentionally not use a condom?”
“No!” West shouts simultaneously to Colton yelling, “What?”
My heart is racing and I feel faint. I need to get out of here. My gut says to trust him and to listen, but my brain says there’s too much evidence stacked against him.
The murderous look in Colton’s eyes isn’t helping either. So, I do the only thing I can think of.
I run.
Chapter Nineteen
West
“I hate to say I—”
“I swear to fucking God, Colton, if you say I told you so, I’ll lose my shit.”