Billionaire's Baby Contract (Hawthorne Brothers 1)

Not happening. When I do marry – and frankly I’m not too keen on doing it yet – it will be to a woman of my own choosing. A lot of things in my life were already decided for me when I was born. My hobbies. My schools. My career. Looking back, I’m the one with the hand-me-downs. I’m not going to let someone else pick the mother of my child, even if that child will be the heir to the family company.

And my taste is more particular than Asher’s. I don’t go for every woman who flutters her eyelashes at me. I’m not too keen on a pretty face, a tiny waist or an impeccable resume, either, though those seem to be Dad’s criteria. I just want someone with depth, who can feel things deeply and take things seriously and yet also know how to make me smile. I want someone resilient and independent and yet willing to let her guard down around me. Too much to ask? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I should pick just anyone to be my wife. She should at least be sensible, and preferably smart, strong and caring as well.

“That’s unfair,” Ryker speaks up without taking his eyes off his phone. “Parents shouldn’t tell their children what to do with their lives. They should just give them the best chance to live their lives.”

Words of wisdom from my baby brother. Of course, he’s not a baby anymore – he’s nearly as tall as I am – but a part of me will always see him as that teeny human in diapers and blue socks that Mom brought home from the hospital when I was six.

“Also…” He puts his phone away. “It’s just wrong to marry a woman because you hope she’ll give you a child to carry your family name. You’re not Henry VIII. Marriage should be about love, or at least mutual respect and trust. And sex should be something you do not just for fleeting pleasure or procreation but because you want to connect more deeply with someone.”

Exactly. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

“Wow.” Even Asher looks impressed. “Is that why you haven’t done it with anyone, little brother?”

He picks up his refilled glass and gulps down its contents before I can.

Ryker frowns. “Just because I don’t sleep with as many women as you do doesn’t mean I haven’t slept with any at all.”

I grin. Nice one, Ryker.

“Go ahead, then,” Asher replies calmly. “You’re the VP of Acquisitions now, little brother, so tell me how many women you’ve… acquired.”

“Women are human beings with hearts and souls, not puzzles or trophies,” Ryker retorts.

That has got to hurt.

“Says the guy who’s never had one,” Asher hits him back.

I don’t think that’s true, and yet Ryker’s forehead furrows. His brown eyes sharpen into stakes.

I know that look. Ryker may have the most patience of us three, but when his fuse burns down he can go nuclear.

“Alright, enough.” I put down my glass and come between them, placing my hands firmly on their shoulders. “You know what else is unfair? The two of you drinking by yourselves and leaving me to entertain the guests and answer questions from the media. This is your party, too, you know. I’m not the only one who got a promotion.”

“But you’re the one who got promoted to the top,” Asher points out. “Why would they want to talk to the CFO when they can talk to the CEO?”

“You’re the head honcho,” Ryker agrees. “We’re just employees.”

I wrap my arms around them. “Then as your boss, I order you to leave this bar and – ”

A tap on my shoulder interrupts my command. I turn my head and see my father standing behind me. What does he want this time?

“Yes?” I ask him.

“There’s someone you have to meet.”

Here we go again.

“And the two of you,” he tells Asher and Ryker. “Get off your lazy asses and get to work. You have to convince everyone you earned those titles you’ve just been given.”

Asher gives a salute. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay, Dad,” Ryker answers as he gets to his feet.

So they’ll listen to him but not to me? Guess I know who’s still the boss around here.

Dad pats my shoulder. “You, come with me.”

Like my brothers, who are now off their stools, I obey. I smooth the edges of my woolen jacket as I follow my father across the garden towards the pool. I see a twenty-something brunette standing near the edge, her gaze lost in the water.

She’s wearing a long-sleeved pink lace dress with a touch of black around her neck, around her slim waist and at the hem of her skirt, which is just a tad below her knees. White sandals encase her feet, their pointy heels putting her at around 5’5″. Shorter than the women I’ve gone out with, but I don’t mind, especially when she turns her head and I find myself staring into stunning amber eyes like orbs of flame. They take me back to summer evenings spent around a campfire and winter midnights when I’d sit on the couch and revel in the comfort of the hearth. Those eyes go with a button nose and full lips coated ruby red. I drop my gaze further, following the strip of black of lace down the middle of her protruding chest. When I lift it up again, she looks away. A blush coats her cheeks as she purses her lips.