The Arranged Marriage

THE ARRANGED MARRIAGE Monica Murphy Table of Contents Title Page The Reluctant Bride Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three The Ruthless Groom Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four The Reckless Union Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Epilogue About Midnight Dynasty About the Author Copyright THE RELUCTANT BRIDE Monica Murphy Chapter One Perry I enter the boardroom at Halcyon right on time. Acting like I’ve got my shit together, like nothing is bothering me. My brother Winston—the oldest Constantine, the one who runs Halcyon, our family business—sits at the head of the sleek black marble table, our mother in the chair to his right. Their heads are bent close as they speak in low tones. The whispering won’t fuck with my attitude. It’s a Monday and I usually drag ass after a particularly spectacular weekend, but today I refuse to give him that satisfaction. Despite the fact that Winny called the meeting at seven in the morning. The only time he could manage to fit us in, he said via a terse text. Yes, even his texts are terse. Dry and demanding and with no emotion whatsoever. My brother used to hate me. Then switched to barely tolerating me once I started working for him. Now I’m pretty sure he likes me. Maybe. “There you are,” our mother calls when she looks up and sees me. She immediately rises, waiting for my approach, and when I get close enough, we hug and I press a quick kiss to her cheek. Caroline Constantine is a beautiful woman. She has aged gracefully. Dresses impeccably. Controls the family with what she believes is an iron fist. No one listens to her. Definitely not Winston. He does whatever the hell he wants, as well he should. He’s running everything that has to do with the Constantines and he does it well—even better than our father. None of my brothers or sisters listen to our mother either. Not even my younger siblings. They’re rebellious and completely ignore her demands. My youngest sister, Tinsley, is in a relationship with a priest, for Christ’s sake. The only one who listens, who does as she bids, who is constantly trying to earn her approval in any way possible is… Me. Fuck, it’s easy to make her happy. She dotes on me. Says I remind her of my father, though no way can that be true. That’s Winston. He’s the one who looks and acts like our long-dead dad. I’m the more handsome and charming, younger version of my father. The one they wish they could all be. But I humor Mother and let her believe that yes, I’m his spitting image in both looks and mannerisms, when in all actuality, I’m nothing like him. He was ruthless and business savvy and brave. Much like Winston is now. For some reason, Mother still indulges me every chance she gets, even though I’m a grown-ass man. Maybe it was because our father’s death hit me so hard and she has guilt over it? I was an angst-riddled teen who wouldn’t stop crying. My younger brother, Keaton, acted as if he was completely unaffected, much like Winston. I wish I had a harder heart like them. Only a few years ago, I still acted the fool because that’s what everyone expected of me. Why try to grow up when everyone believes you’re an immature asshole? So that’s what I did. I partied. I spent money that I didn’t earn. I fucked a lot of women. I bought stupid cars. I still own that orange Chevelle, though I garaged it recently. I looked ridiculous in my custom Brioni suits, climbing out of that orange monstrosity every day in the Halcyon parking garage, earning stares from coworkers. Earning mockery from my older brother who made fun of that car every chance he got. I bought a far more respectable vehicle recently. A sleek white Lamborghini. “Good morning,” I say as I take a step back from my mother’s embrace. Can’t linger too long or Winny will say something snide and rude. He doesn’t say a word beyond a nod of acknowledgement at my arrival. His expression is stern, yet impassive. I never know what he’s thinking, and it’s disconcerting. I’ve learned from that though, and do my damnedest to wear the same expression when I’m dealing with Halcyon business for Win. Or when I’m trying to get out of a sticky situation with a woman. That happens more often than I care to admit. “Have a seat, darling,” Mother says, indicating the chair on the other side of Winston. I do as she says, settling into the leather chair that’s more comfortable than the one I sit in at my desk every damn day. “How was your weekend?” I can’t tell her it was full of debauchery that included too much alcohol and too many women, but I avoid the paparazzi at the more popular clubs to keep it under wraps. Instead I smile at her and say, “It was fine.” Winston snorts. I’m sure he knows what I was up to. Wonder if he misses it. If I had his hot wife to come home to every evening, I wouldn’t miss that lifestyle at all. “That’s nice.” Mother