“It’s past time that you were married,” he said. That was a new one. The marriage question had come up in passing in the past, but this was the first time it had come up as the express reason we were meeting.
“I can't believe you called me across the Atlantic Ocean to tell me that. This could have easily been an email.”
“Marriage for someone like you is not simply a partnership. It's strategic. It is done with family and reputation in mind.”
“Yeah, Charlie's mother just put him through this whole song and dance and he didn’t marry her pick. If you think you’re getting me.”
“I don’t think anything, Niall. You don’t have a choice. The arrangements are already made. I called you here to meet Lisbeth Lane. She’s been selected to become your wife. You’re meeting her tonight at a party.”
“I’ll do fuck all,” I said. My father just looked at me, his expression cool as ever. He was ever the gentleman, skewering with his words and power because they were so great that he never really had to raise his voice. Patrick Bridges used to scare the life out of me when I was a kid. Nothing about him was paternal. We had maintained a business relationship since I was a child. He wasn’t sixty yet, so he was still in good health and great shape. His blond hair was only just starting to grey and his stature was ramrod straight, showcasing every one of his six feet and four inches of height.
“We owe the Lane family a debt.”
“No, you owe them a debt.”
“The debt is as much yours as it is mine. You belong to this family, no matter how much you try and defy that.”
“So what? You put me up to get married to their daughter?”
“The marriage has been agreed since you were a child.”
“Then why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”
“You were impossible,” he said. “You raised hell; you ran around; you shirked your duty. We were waiting for you to get it out of your system, to finally come to your senses at some point and settle to your duty.” There was that fucking word again. Duty. To hell with duty. I didn’t do anything that I didn’t want to do. There was no reason to lift a finger in the name of my family when the only use they saw for me was a vector for their name and money. Why did I owe them anything? Why would I give up my choice and life so that their old debts could be paid? What about me? When did what I want start to matter finally?
“I’m not marrying her.”
He completely ignored the statement. “You're meeting her tonight. Don’t be late.”
“I said I’m not marrying her.” He heard me but it didn’t matter. Nothing I wanted ever mattered to him. Trying to argue wasn’t worth it. He gave me the address and told me that she was going to be expecting me. I showed up because I wasn’t rude enough to stand the woman up with no explanation. She and I were in the same boat. I didn’t know the specifics but both of us were being forced into this marriage situation without having even met each other. I wasn’t unreasonable. I would meet the woman, discuss what was going on, apologize if her expectations had not been met and wish her luck finding someone else to marry because it was not going to be me.
It wasn’t. That was the long and short of it. I didn’t care who she was or what prestigious family she came from. I didn’t want to be with her. I didn’t particularly want to be with anyone.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. My memory flashed back to that morning. I did want to be with someone but that someone was acting strangely. It was bad enough that I had had to meet my father that day. Waking up alone and then finding out that Eddy had basically lied to me about being single again had put me in a foul mood already. If I was going to pick anyone it was going to be her, but clearly, she had other intentions. She would have stayed if she felt the same way as I did. Clearly, she didn’t. That was fine. I wouldn’t forget but at least I could leave. The next thing that brought me back to London was going to have to be a funeral. I was ready to leave and never look back. This trip had been a failure in every way.
“Well then, soak it in. It only happens once in a blue moon,” I told Dirk.
“I’m glad you could make it. It’s been a while.”
“Right, right. Happy birthday,” I told him before he wandered away to talk to the rest of the people in attendance. I threw back my drink and made my way back to the bar for another. I was ready to leave. All I needed to do here in the first place was talk to the woman, Lisbeth. I walked away from the bar through the living room looking for her. I had been given some photos to be able to identify her.
A tall, thin blonde with brown eyes. Pretty, to be sure but not my type. I liked a woman with a more generous figure. I sighed thinking about it. My father; arranging a marriage for me without even taking into account what I liked in my partners. The woman who was talking to Dirk matched her description. I wasn’t close enough to hear their conversation but heard her laugh. It was like nails on a chalkboard. I cringed at the thought of talking to her. She was wearing a slinky red dress, pawing at Dirk as they talked. Was she drunk? Great. I walked over. Dirk was reinforcement. It would be a smoother introduction with him there. I went over to them and Dirk
