Their Brazen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 8)

I had not changed my mind about leaving Gabe and Tucker, but I wouldn’t have minded them standing right behind me now. The henchman was similar in size to my two husbands, and he wouldn’t seem quite so… ominous if they were here.

But, no.

I was in this alone, as I would be for the rest of my life.

The man stepped back and let me enter. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath when I heard the door snick closed behind me. I was led back to the same room as the week before. Mr. Grimsby was behind his desk and stood upon my entry.

“Miss Carr.”

I wasn’t going to tell him that was no longer my name, but Abigail Landry now. If he discovered I was married to Bridgewater men, he would go after their money as well. While we hadn’t spoken of such things, I knew Tucker and Gabe were well-off. I didn’t want much, just love. I’d trade all their money, even Bridgewater, for the two of them to love me just as I was.

“I hope you have not come empty-handed.” His gaze raked over me.

“Where is Miss Bennett?” I asked.

The corner of Mr. Grimsby’s mouth turned up. “Upstairs.”

“I wish to see she is well before we conduct this matter.”

He arched a brow and smiled. “You have the head of a businessman.”

Mr. Grimsby lazily waved his hand at his henchman, and he disappeared down the hall.

“I am here for Miss Bennettt. If she is… dead”—I swallowed at the possibility of her demise—“as is her father, then there is no need to bargain with you.”

He rose from his chair, buttoned his suit jacket. “That is where you are wrong. Your friend has no impact on your livelihood. Only after your delivery of money will you be set free.”

While I wished to step back, even turn and bolt down the hall and out the front door, I refused to cow to this man. “That was not the arrangement,” I countered.

Footsteps came down the stairs.

“Your job was to bring me money. Did you think I would allow you to fail?”

Tennessee came into the room then. While she was well-dressed and seemed completely unharmed, dark circles marred her pretty face. Frown lines formed at the corners of her mouth. Even so, I was thrilled to see her. Alive.

“Abigail!” she cried, running into my arms. She shook like a leaf as I hugged her to me. “Please say you’ve brought what he wants,” she whispered.

She stepped back and eyed me with a dangerous level of hope.

I opened the reticule dangling from my wrist and pulled out my mother’s brooch. Stepping forward, I placed it on the desk where Mr. Grimsby greedily picked it up. Taking a moment, he studied it. “Very nice.”

I sighed, relieved. “Come, Tennessee. Let us leave.”

With my chin high, I held out my hand for my friend to take. I turned toward the door.

“Very nice,” Mr. Grimsby repeated. “But not enough.”

My stomach plummeted, and Tennessee gripped my hand like a vise.

Slowly, I turned to face Mr. Grimsby.

“This brooch is worth a hundred dollars, not much more. I need more!” he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

“Why?” I asked, looking around the opulent room. “You have a beautiful house, clothing, a mine.”

“The mine has run dry.”

“So I am to personally pay for your lavish lifestyle in exchange for my health?”