Possessive Fake Husband

And yet, maybe there’s a chance. Things change, people move on. Seb might be softening in his old age. Maybe nostalgia for the company itself might make him want to stick around. Or maybe he heard that I’m desperate and wants to get something out of me.

Either way, it’s worth hearing what he has to say. If I can convince Seb McKenzie, the deal is all but done. The other board members will fall into line, and I’ll get my merger.

“Make it happen,” I say. “And get in touch with Maggie. Let her know when the meeting will be. I want her there with me.”

“I’ll make the calls.” She hesitates. “And Josh, I know it’s not my place to say it, but I think your father would be proud.”

“Thanks, Maeve. I hope so.”

She nods and leaves without another word. I sit there, frowning at the window again.

I know my father wanted this for me. He left it to me in his will, it can’t get any clearer than that. But why he wanted this is a mystery, and it always will be.

But maybe it can be enough just that he wanted it. He wanted me, his son, to have a piece of the place he gave his life to. Cork was everything to him, and building it up into what it is today was his life’s work. Maybe he just wanted to see his son continue on his legacy.

So I’m going to, no matter the cost.11MaggieJosh parks out front of a row home just off Rittenhouse Square. The sign in front of the door says Seb McKenzie, PhD, Esq.

I groan. “That’s the most pretentious thing. Is this his house?”

“No,” Josh says, laughing. “But can you imagine? Putting your name and your degrees on your house?”

“It’s only slightly better to put it on your office.”

“He’s a lawyer,” Josh says. “This sort of thing is impressive to some people.” Josh pushes the door open and we head straight into a very small sitting room. A secretary sits behind a desk just ahead of us and smiles as we enter. She’s an older woman with dark dyed hair and light eyes. Her smile is crooked. The place smells like musty rug and the wallpaper looks like it’s peeling.

Clearly, Seb doesn’t care much about the decor.

“Hello, hello, you must be Josh and Maggie. Oh, congratulations on the wedding. I’m Agnes. I think Mr. McKenzie will see you in just a moment, I’ll tell him you’re here.”

“Hello, Agnes, thank you very much.” Josh sits down and I sit next to him. Agnes gets up, a tiny woman in a pants suit, and shuffles back to a door. She opens it and screams inside.

“SEB. JOSH AND MAGGIE ARE HERE.”

She closes the door and walks back to her desk, beaming the whole time. I look at Josh with alarm in my eyes and he just shrugs and shakes his head.

A minute later, an older man with white hair pushed back into a messy puff and dark, thick eyebrows opens the door and lingers there for a moment. He’s short, barely taller than Agnes, and his suit looks a little too baggy for him. The pinstripes are gaudy, and he glares out at us.

“Josh,” he croaks. “Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice.”

Josh gets up and shakes his hand. “Thanks for having me, Seb. This is my wife, Maggie.”

He looks at me like he’s staring down a particularly old piece of fish. “Hello.”

“Lovely to meet you, Mr. McKenzie,” I say.

He doesn’t soften one bit as he looks back to Josh. “Come on. Let’s talk.” He leads us back into his office.

The room is spacious but cluttered with books and files. There’s a small table to the right, a group of filing cabinets lining the walls, and a huge map of the United States hanging on the wall behind a large oak desk. The map looks antique, and I squint to try to read it before Seb gives me a dirty look.

I sit down in an old green chair. It squeaks as I settle in and Josh frowns at me for a second before looking at Seb. We’re positioned lower than him, and I’d bet anything he put these chairs out just to make himself seem a little taller.

“I appreciate you seeing me,” Josh says, even though it was Seb that made the meeting. “I was hoping we’d get to talk at some point.”

“Yes, well, I hear you visited with Guava at his little… ah… office.” Seb sneers. “How was that?”

“Fine,” Josh says and shrugs. “Rupert’s an odd one, but at least you know what he wants.”

Seb snorts. “Right. Clean cars. Did he make you order breakfast?”

Josh just shakes his head. “Look, Seb. I appreciate you meeting with me.”

“Yes. You keep saying that.” Seb’s frown turns toward me. “And you, little Miss Maggie Fyall, daughter of the great Thomas Fyall. How did you end up married to Josh here? It’s something of a Romeo and Juliet love story, is it not?”