Claiming My Bride of Convenience

He never gave me any.

In my university days and early adulthood my method for impressing him changed, and I pursued a self-destructive course in a bid to get his attention, all the while pretending I didn’t care. I caroused and partied and picked up women, had my exploits splashed across the tabloids, knowing my grandfather would hate my playboy ways, so like his own son’s, and telling myself I didn’t care in the least.

I had him over a barrel; he had to give me control of his company because not only was there no one else to give it to, but quite simply I was the best. I’d yanked a failing business out of red-lining mediocrity and made it the most powerful hotel empire in the world. Bastian Arides needed me, whether he wanted to or not—and he definitely did not.

But this time, I told myself as I stood outside his study door, I would not look for his approval. I would not seek to aggravate him either; that would be simply another attention grab. No, I would be completely indifferent. Whatever he wanted, I wouldn’t care. I didn’t care.

Because he didn’t have a hold over me. Even if this house was filled with ghosts and memories; even if I could practically feel Eleni’s pinching of my ear as she marched me to this very room. No, now I was going to be different.

I rapped once on the door and then strode in, without waiting for his word.

Bastian Arides was not standing behind his desk, the imposing and stern-faced giant of my childhood days. No, he was huddled in a rocking chair by a gas fire, even though the day was warm. He looked gaunt, almost skeletal, and there was a yellowish cast to his drawn and wrinkled face.

‘Matteo.’

He said my name with resigned finality. I nodded my greeting and waited, not deigning to reply.

‘Thank you for coming.’

‘Now, that is surprising,’ I couldn’t keep from drawling. ‘A word of thanks?’

I’d worked myself to the very bone saving his company, and he’d never once said a word to me. He’d only tolerated my presence as if I were a bad smell in the room and he had to put up with it.

‘I realise my request might have seemed demanding—’

‘Might have?’ I couldn’t keep myself from interjecting. My determination to remain coolly indifferent was failing at the first post. This man brought out the worst in me—the neediest and the angriest.

‘It did,’ he amended in an unusual about-face. ‘But the truth is, Matteo, I don’t know how much time I have left. The doctor has given me days.’

‘Days?’ I stared at him in disbelief. ‘Four months ago you were in remission.’

‘Sometimes, especially at my age, remission doesn’t last very long.’

He smiled sadly, but I was unmoved. Did he actually think I was going to grieve for him?

‘I don’t see what any of this has to do with me,’ I said. ‘We’ve had little to do with one another over the years. As little as possible.’

‘I know that, and I want to rectify it.’

‘Rectify it?’ I let out a hard laugh. ‘Are you starting to regret your life now that you’re about to shuffle off this mortal coil?’

Bastian Arides pressed his lips together and looked away. ‘Something like that.’

Something in me hardened, and then crystallised. I finally had my grandfather where I’d always wanted him—and yet I found I didn’t want it at all. Certainly not like this, begrudging and almost angry. What was he afraid of? Judgement? A weighing of the scales? He wanted absolution, but I knew in that moment that he wouldn’t get it from me.

‘Sorry, old man,’ I drawled coldly. ‘If you’re looking for some kind of atonement to send you singing into the afterlife, forget it.’

His face twisted in a grimace of acknowledgement. ‘I know it is much to ask.’

‘That’s an understatement.’ I gave him a long, hard stare. ‘What is this really about? I can’t believe that an old tyrant like you would quake at the thought of what happens after you die.’

‘It’s not so much the after,’ he answered quietly, ‘as the now.’

I frowned, folding my arms impatiently. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘Knowing death is near makes one look back on one’s life. See things more clearly.’

‘And what do you see so clearly?’ I couldn’t keep the scorn from my voice; I didn’t even try.