The Ultimatum

POV: Declan

"Declan, we’ve had this conversation before."

My father's stern voice slices through the thick tension at the dining table, sharp enough to draw blood. He methodically saws into his medium-rare filet mignon, the silver knife scraping loudly against the pristine porcelain plate. The sound sets my teeth on edge.

"I have tolerated your bachelor lifestyle long enough," he continues, not bothering to look up from his meal. "I let you have your fun. I let you sow your wild oats in the hopes that you would get it out of your system. But if you want me and your grandfather to take you seriously—if you want us to pass on our controlling shares of Apex Designs to you—you need to prove you are responsible enough to run a multi-million-dollar corporation. You are turning thirty soon. The time to settle down has arrived."

I say nothing right away. My fists clench painfully beneath the heavy mahogany table. My nails bite half-moons into my palms.

"Piper comes from a respectable family," my father adds smoothly, finally lifting his piercing green eyes to meet mine. "The Voss and Sterling families have been dearest friends for generations. She is a beautiful young lady. She shares your exact passion for architecture. She understands our corporate world. What more could you possibly ask for in a life partner?"

Annoyance flares hot and fast in my chest. I drop my fork. It clatters aggressively against the fine china. "Well, I would like to actually be attracted to my future wife, for starters. I also want to marry someone I love, Dad. I share zero romantic spark with Piper. She is not my type. We are childhood friends. We have nothing in common other than our careers. Why would you want to force me to marry someone I do not even love?"

My father sets his silverware down. He picks up his linen napkin and wipes his mouth with infuriating slowness. "Son, love does not just happen overnight. It is not magic. You need to work at it, and it grows as you get to know the other person." He pauses, his gaze turning cold. "You loved Nadia, and look exactly how that turned out."

My chest tightens. The mention of my ex-fiancée feels like a physical blow to the ribs. My insides recoil.

"She left you devastated," my father presses, using my past against me like a weapon. "You have not been the same since she shattered your heart. You throw yourself into work and meaningless flings. I do not want to see you hurt like that again. Do you honestly think your mother and I were madly in love when we married? No, we were not. But we grew to love each other. Now, I could not imagine my life with anyone else."

He glances at my mother across the table. She offers him a soft, compliant smile and reaches out to take his hand when he holds it out for her.

"Dad, I have known Piper since we were kids in the sandbox," I tell him earnestly, leaning forward to emphasize my point. "I do not see myself loving her. Ever."

He shakes his head and holds his hands up, signaling the end of the debate. "Enough, Declan. I have said my piece. If you want our shares, you will marry Piper as planned. That is final. The arrangements are already in place."

He goes back to eating his food as if he hasn't just ordered me to sign away my freedom. I look over at my mother. She just shrugs and smiles apologetically at me.

This is ridiculous. This entire marriage fiasco started six months ago when Grandpop was diagnosed with motor neuron disease. The doctors gave him less than a year to live. And guess what his dying wish was? To see his firstborn, favorite grandson married before he dies. His shares will not transfer over to me until I produce a wife. If I do not, those shares go directly to my idiot cousin, Owen. Owen, who spends his days day-drinking on yachts. Owen, who will run the company I have spent years building up into the ground quicker than I can blink.

It is times like these I wish I had a sibling to take the heat. My dad wants to retire early to the Hamptons, but he refuses to give me full control of Apex Designs until I have a wedding ring on my finger.

"Excuse me," I mutter. I drop my napkin onto the table and shove my chair back. It screeches against the hardwood floor.

"Honey, you have not touched your food," my mother says, looking up at me with mild concern.

I shake my head and rub the back of my neck tiredly. The muscles there are wound tight as coiled springs. "I am not hungry. I am going to take off. I have a ton of work to do for the presentation tomorrow."

"Piper and her parents are coming over the day after tomorrow for dinner," my father states as I walk toward the archway. "I expect you to be here. We will discuss the details of your engagement."

I wave them off without so much as a glance back and walk out the front door.

I feel like I am suffocating. The crisp night air does nothing to cool my temper. I jump into my Audi R8, hit the ignition, and speed out of the wrought-iron gates of the estate. The engine roars, echoing my frustration.

They have me cornered with this marriage bullshit, and I cannot seem to find a single way out of it. I have been fighting them for weeks. I do not want to be stuck marrying a girl I do not love or even find the least bit interesting. She is a beautiful girl, yes. She is smart and accomplished. Any other guy would give his right arm to marry a woman like her. But not me. She is not for me. If I get forced into marrying her, I know I will struggle to stay loyal, and I am not the kind of guy who cheats.

After an hour of driving aimlessly around the city, letting the blur of streetlights numb my mind, I find myself pulling up to my best friend Silas’s apartment building.

Now, I am sprawled out on his leather sofa, sipping on my fifth bottle of beer, and staring blankly up at his plain white ceiling.

"How the fuck am I going to get out of this?" I mutter to the empty air.

Silas sighs from the armchair across from me. He leans back and takes a slow sip of his beer. "Well, you are not. You will have to marry Piper, brother. We both know how stubborn your dad is. He is not letting this go."

I close my eyes and nod slowly. Silas is right. My dad will never let this go. Especially if it means losing the company he worked so hard to build to his brother-in-law's reckless son.

"Damn it," I groan, resting the cold glass bottle against my forehead. "Please, tell me there is a better solution. Anything but this."

Before Silas can offer another dose of brutal reality, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pull it out, ready to ignore another email from the office, but pause when I see a text from Maya.

My eyebrows knit together. I open the message.

Maya: *I am going to be late for the meeting tomorrow morning. Some idiot stole all four tires off my car.*

I sit up straight, frowning at the screen. Then, despite my dark mood and the crushing weight of my family's demands, a genuine laugh escapes my throat. This girl has the worst luck in the world. Stolen tires?

Her feisty demeanor immediately pulls me out of my depression. My fingers fly across the screen.

Me: *Ouch. I am sorry to hear that. I can have someone over there within the hour to replace the tires for you.*

I send the text. A reply comes back almost instantly.

Maya: *No. That is okay. I will sort it. I can find somebody to fit new ones tomorrow. Just tell your lawyer I will be a little late.*

I smile and shake my head. She is so stubborn it is genuinely infuriating. Any other woman would jump at the offer of free help. Not her. She would rather ride on rims than accept a favor.

Me: *I will pick you up on my way. We can go to the office together after.*

I set my phone down on the coffee table and look over at Silas. He is watching me closely, a knowing, annoying smirk playing on his lips.

"What?" I ask cagily, taking another swig of my beer.

"Your mood just shifted," Silas points out. "Who are you texting?"

My phone vibrates against the glass table. Silas lunges forward and swipes it out of my reach before I can grab it.

"Maya?" Silas reads the name on the screen. I reach over the table to take it back, but he leans away, holding it out of reach. "Hang on. Is that the hottie from the club? The one you disappeared with?"

I nod and finally snatch my phone out of his hand. "Yes, that is her."

I read her latest reply. Of course, she is still saying no, throwing out excuses about taking the bus. I type a quick text back, forcefully insisting that my driver will be outside her building at nine and that I will not take no for an answer.

"Why are you going to the lawyers with her?" Silas questions, raising a curious brow at me.

I am too distracted, mentally arguing with Maya over the text thread, to guard my words. "Uh, to sign some papers for a divorce," I answer distractedly with a casual shrug.

Silas kicks my knee hard.

I scowl at him, rubbing my leg. "What the hell?"

"Divorce?" Silas sits bolt upright, staring at me in utter bewilderment.

My blood runs cold. I freeze, realizing I just let the massive secret slip out.

"When did you fucking marry her to get a divorce?!" Silas screams, his voice cracking.

"When we flew to Vegas..." I trail off.

Silas's eyes widen to the size of saucers as he waits for me to continue.

I let out a heavy sigh, running my free hand over my face. "This is all your fault. You forced me to go out to that club. You got me stinking drunk. After we left the club, we kept drinking. We ended up on my private jet, flew to Vegas, and got married."

"Holy—you got married? Like legally married?" Silas questions, jumping to his feet.

I nod miserably.

Silas throws his head back and laughs maniacally. He starts pacing the length of the living room, running his hands over his head.

"Yes, Silas. I am legally married," I grumble, hating how much he is enjoying my misery. "And like that was not bad enough, she showed up at my office today as my new executive assistant. My dad hired her while I was in Paris. What are the fucking odds of that? Tell me, please."

Silas covers his mouth with his hand, shaking his head in disbelief. He stops pacing and points a finger at me. "Odds? Bro, this girl is either one psychotic stalker who planned this whole thing, or fate just dropped a motherload of an opportunity right into your lap."

I watch him move around the room, irritated by his amusement. "Silas, she did not even know who I was. She tried to quit the moment she saw I was her boss. She is terrified. She is not a stalker, and she certainly did not plan any of this."

"Vance, are you an idiot, bro?"

I scowl at him hard. "Excuse me?"

Silas steps closer, fixing me with a sharp, intense look. "Do you not realize all your prayers have just been answered? This whole Piper debacle is solved."

The fog in my brain clears for a split second. A sudden, brilliant spark of hope cuts through the suffocating pressure of my father's ultimatum. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I watch him intensely, my pulse beginning to race as the pieces start falling into place.

"How so?"