“I’m sure.” He pauses. “You have to get him to sign. Today.”

  So he can tell Wynam we’re going to be one happy company. I get it. “Rawson doesn’t have a choice. I’ve got a few aces up my sleeve and a loose end to tie up. Then it’ll be a done deal.” I can’t be more specific than that, and I have to hope Evan will understand when I finally tell him everything. “Why don’t you go to bed? When you wake up, all this should be done.”

  Over the phone, he yawns. “Yeah. I’m fucking beat.”

  “Talk to you later, buddy.”

  “Absolutely. Keep doing amazing things. We’re a great team.”

  His encouragement and rah-rah spirit make me feel guilty as hell as I murmur my goodbye and hang up. The day has barely started, and I already want it behind me. Where the hell is Sloan with her answer?

  Since I didn’t sleep much last night myself, I worked—on the contract Stratus’s attorney put together, on a statement to all of Reservoir’s employees outlining the upcoming management changes, and on figuring out how to make Sloan my wife ASAP. I’m as prepared for today as I can be, but my nerves are raw. I can’t find my goddamn cool.

  Cursing under my breath, I pocket my phone and resume pacing Reservoir’s lobby. I glare impatiently at my watch again. Eight o’clock straight up. For Sloan, this is late. She’s never late. Is this her silent way of not just refusing my proposal but telling me to fuck off for good?

  Across the cavernous space, the sound of a woman’s heels clicking smartly over the tile sends me turning in her direction. My jaw drops.

  Sloan approaches, hair wound in an elegant twist, revealing her high cheekbones and graceful neck. She’s wearing a black business suit—figuring-hugging jacket buttoned just under her exposed cleavage, along with a sleek pencil skirt that reveals most of her thighs—and a pair of killer black stilettos with gold accents. The coordinating hoops dangling from her ears and the bangles encircling her wrists give her a perfectly polished vibe. She looks amazing. Powerful. Sexy as hell.

  But the choker encircling her neck with a dangling ball and chain—and her engagement ring attached to it—pisses me off.

  “What the hell is that?” I gesture to the three carats scraping the plastic gag gift hanging as a silent fuck you.

  She stops in front of me, brow raised. “What do you mean? I’m wearing the ring.”

  “Not on your finger,” I growl.

  “You said I had to wear it. You didn’t say where.”

  Sloan is trying to get a rise out of me. I won’t give her the satisfaction of showing my temper. “Are you marrying me?”

  “It’s not as if I have much choice.”

  From behind the desk in the far corner, the security guard watches us. A few employees running late dash to their desks, giving us sideways glances before they disappear into nearby offices or the gaping elevator.

  Gossip is going to spread like a cancer if I don’t quash this fast. But I’m aware that isn’t my only reason for stepping into her personal space, teeth gritted. “Take the ring off that ridiculous statement around your neck.”

  “How is it ridiculous? I’m about to be shackled for the next year, so I dressed accordingly.”

  I have never been so tempted in my life to put a woman over my knee. “We have paperwork to finish and an announcement to make. Put that ring on your finger right now.”

  “No. I’m fine with where it is.”

  I go from gritting my teeth to grinding them. This woman has always been great at raising my blood pressure, but I swear today she’s shoving me closer to an aneurysm.

  I’m calling her bluff. “All right. First stop, we’re visiting your father.”

  “Mr. Rawson”—she corrects me—“should understand how I feel about the fact he sold me to you without compunction.”

  She’s not wrong. During our brief meeting, Rawson fought for everything but her, which makes no sense. He took all of Sloan’s hard work and loyalty for granted, as if it was his due for the simple favor of providing half her DNA. But he was willing to go to the mat for the worthless son who cost him a fortune.

  “Then we’ll address all the employees and let them know about the pending change in management. If you’d like them all to know that you were named VP of Finance because you married your way into it…” I shrug. “I don’t think it’s smart or good for your image, but that’s your call.”

  Her eyes widen for a moment before she smothers her shock. “What’s happening to Perez?”

  “The same thing that will happen to Shane and all the other VPs. They’ll go quietly if they want their very lux severance packages. If they resist…let’s just say we both know how to keep them quiet.”

  I’m betting Shane kept the blackmail material he’d cultivated against each of them somewhere in his office. He’s been banned from the building, and I’m about to have the keys to his kingdom. I’ll find whatever he stashed, and all the outgoing VPs will learn quickly that I have no hesitation in using their momentary lapses of judgment against them.

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “That should be no surprise.” But if she’s resorting to name-calling, it means she has no better defense, and I’ve won. “Last chance. Are you going to let me put the ring on your finger, or are you going to flaunt for all your fellow employees and new subordinates that you’re in bed—literally—with the enemy?”

  Sloan does her best to blank her expression, but there’s a mutinous line to her mouth and a fire in her eyes as she jerks the bachelorette party favor from her neck and works the fifty-thousand-dollar ring off the plastic chain. When I hold out my hand, she jabs the sharp edge of the diamond into my palm. When it gouges me, I refuse to wince.

  Show no weakness.

  I give her a saccharine smile instead and seize her left hand in a firm grip. “You’re mine from this moment until 365 days after we say I do.” I ease the ring onto her finger, gratified to see it there. It fits perfectly, as if it were made for her. “Now we’re engaged. Congratulations.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I tsk at her. “That’s no way to talk to your fiancé.”

  She scoffs. “That’s the only way I’ll talk to a bastard like you.”

  Sloan might be angry now…but that fire will burn out. And she’ll soon realize the torch I’m carrying for her isn’t one she can snuff out.

  I lean closer. “Fair warning: I’m going to make you fall in love with me.”

  Sloan laughs at me like I’m delusional. “I’ll fall in love with my vibrator way before I fall for you.”

  “Baby, I’m going to make you feel way better than your vibrator ever could. I’ll have you panting, pleading, and crying out for me.”

  “Wow, your ego is bigger than your inner bastard. I didn’t think that was possible.” She shakes her head. “Bless your heart.”

  I know that’s Southern-woman speak for fuck you.

  “Bless yours.” I twist the ring on her finger and look right into her eyes. “Because once I get you naked and under me, you’re going to need it.”

  The rest of Thursday and Friday—up until noon—are a blur of activity.

  After Bruce Rawson signed on the dotted line without additional strong-arming required, the email outlining the change in management, effective next Thursday, went out to all employees. The accompanying meeting to answer employees’ questions is a zoo. After quickly conferring with Sloan and HR, I name acting VPs for every department in the company, issue a press release, and generally keep the troops calm.

  A couple of hours into our Friday, I turn to Sloan, already knowing I’m going to start a fight. “Pack a bag for the weekend.”

  She gives me a wary stare. “Where are we going?”

  “Maui. We’re getting married tomorrow, so if there’s anyone you want to invite…”

  “What?” She twists her engagement ring on her finger like she’s itching to take it off.

  I nod. “When we return to Dallas, we’ll be man and wife.”

  “Don’t you mean bastard and hostage?”

  I continue on as if she didn’t insult me. “If you have a bridesmaid in mind, call her now.”

  “So we’re just going to a justice of the peace? We can do that here.”

  I shake my head. “We’re having a ceremony with my friends and family.”

  In fact, I called my mom to let her know this morning and sent her a first-class ticket to arrive on the island tonight. She seems elated…if confused. My sisters are sad they couldn’t come—too many responsibilities to travel last minute—but they seem to understand I can’t wait.

  Honestly, they don’t know the half of it.

  “I-I thought we would get married after the loan was funded.”

  And give her time to worm out of this? “Until you say I do, there’s no loan.”

  “How do I know you’ll fund the loan once you’ve got what you want?” She’s grasping at straws.

  “We’ve signed a mountain of paperwork to that effect. Stratus’s ‘escape clause’ can only be enacted if I pull the trigger. That’s something I’ll only do if you force me.”

  The mulish set to her mouth tells me she’s not ready to give up the fight. “I don’t have a wedding dress.”

  I hadn’t considered that, but in Maui I’m surrounded by resourceful women. “We’ll work it out. Our plane leaves in less than three hours.”

  “If I refuse to go?”

  “Reservoir dies.”

  Sloan blows out a breath, clearly looking for calm. She doesn’t have to tell me she hates me; I see it all over her face.

  Not for the first time, I question my sanity. Now that I’ve backed her into a corner, how the hell am I going to make her fall for me? There’s got to be a way…but right now I’m not seeing it. Panic won’t help. Once we speak vows, I’ll have a whole year to make her love me. I’ll keep trying until I succeed.

  “You think you’re smart, that you’ve got me boxed in, that I’m going to give up the fight and surrender my everything to you.” She glares at me as she grabs her purse. “Think again.”

  I already know nothing about this weekend—hell, the next year—will be easy. My last-minute text to Evan, informing him that I’m coming home and bringing Sloan with me just before I switch the device to airplane mode is going to cause a stir.

  The eight hours of cold shoulder she gives me during the trip feels damn icy.

  It’s no shock that, by the time we land, my text and voice mail have been inundated with messages from my boss and best friend. Of course he wants to know what the hell is going on. It’s also no shock that he’s waiting at the bag claim when we land just before five o’clock Hawaii time.

  “Hi, Evan.” I’m a nervous fucking wreck as I grab Sloan’s hand and drag her closer.

  “Bas.” He nods, then casts his stare Sloan’s way, hand outstretched. “Good to see you, Ms. O’Neill.”

  Cautiously, she takes it. “For the moment, yes. I would say it’s a pleasure, but I’m not in the habit of lying.”

  Though she doesn’t know I haven’t told Evan my plans to marry her, she’s dangerously close to letting the cat out of the bag—and pissing him off in the same breath. “You didn’t have to come pick us up, buddy.”

  “After that text you sent before takeoff, you knew I would.”

  Pretty much. “We need to talk.”

  Evan’s face tightens, and I see the exact moment he catches sight of the ring on Sloan’s finger. “Clearly. Nia is cooking. You’re coming over for dinner to explain. It’s not a request.”

  I didn’t think it was. “Sure.”

  “Unless you want to tell me what the fuck is going on now?”

  “You’ll want to sit for this.”

  Evan scrubs a hand down his face, as if my reply stresses him out even more. “Then get your bags. Let’s go.”

  With that terse demand, he stalks to the door, withdrawing his phone from his pocket to make an angry call.

  Sloan turns to me as we wait for the baggage carousel to start. “So he really is Satan.”

  “He’s not.” I feel compelled to defend Evan, despite the fact I know he’s going to chew me a new asshole before the night is over. “I’m putting him in an awkward position. He’s not happy.”

  “Well, we have that in common.”

  “Did it ever occur to you for one fucking minute that I might have valid reasons for marrying you?”

  “Like taking the company I’ve dedicated my adult life to and getting your jollies off making me miserable for a year? Sure.”

  “Why do you do that?” I growl quietly, aware that a few people gathered around the unmoving baggage carousel are watching. “Why do you push and shove everyone away who just wants to be close to you?”

  Sloan answers with a silent glare, then wanders away when the bags start to roll down the conveyer.

  But she doesn’t have to reply for me to know the answer. Everyone in her life has hurt her. She’s protecting herself because she’s expecting me to be as selfish as all the others.

  By marrying her against her will, aren’t you proving her right?

  I try to shove the thought aside, but it lingers like the smell of skunk.

  The fact I want to be with her, beside her, there for her, encouraging her, pleasuring her, giving my all to her… That counts for something, right?

  Not if she doesn’t want you.

  She will. I’m not giving up.

  It’s not long before our suitcases come down the ramp. Sloan reaches for hers, but I grab it first, then take hold of my own. She doesn’t acknowledge me but follows me to Evan’s side. My buddy sends me a scowl that lets me know he’s expecting an explanation ASAP, then we hop into his SUV.

  The ride is uncomfortably silent. I try to fill the empty cabin with small talk. But Evan won’t answer questions about the office, and Sloan is apparently not in the mood to talk about our plane ride.

  It’s going to be a long evening.

  When we reach Evan’s place, Nia emerges, hand stroking her rounding belly, wedding ring glinting in the last of the day’s rays. Will that ever be Sloan? Will she ever open the door to welcome me back to our home, silently protecting and loving our unborn baby?

  Probably not. When I impulsively decided to marry her, I didn’t think that far ahead. I barely thought beyond my irrational need to make her mine. I didn’t even dwell much on the repercussions or likely outcomes. Will I be going through a nasty divorce this time next year?

  “Y’all made good time.” Nia welcomes us inside with a hint of her Georgia upbringing in her voice. “Food should be ready soon.”

  “Thanks, honey.” Evan pauses in the door to brush a kiss on her cheek and cup her belly. “You two okay?”

  “Doing better today. I think I’ll even be able to keep dinner down.”

  His smile is full of warm affection, and I realize my best friend never adored his late wife this way. He looked after her. He cared for her. He guided her. He removed obstacles in her life. He held her hand when her dreams turned to nightmares. He shielded her from the outside world. The fact he wasn’t in love with Becca seems so obvious now.

  I look at Sloan way differently than I saw Becca. What does that say about me? About my feelings?

  “Hi, Shaw. I won’t ask if you’re staying out of trouble. I know better.”

  With a faint smile, I squeeze her hand. “Hi, Nia. Glad you’re feeling better.” I turn to wrap my arm around my fiancée’s waist. “This is Sloan O’Neill.”

  Though Nia knows Sloan is the competition, she gives my girl a smile. “Welcome. Come on in.”

  Sloan rarely behaves less than her ballsy, brash best, but Nia’s warm welcome takes her off guard. “Thank you.”

  Nia’s smile brightens. “The guys will drink beer, I’m sure. I can’t imbibe obviously, but I have some great wines if you’d like a glass. What am I saying? You sat next to Bas for eight hours today. You deserve the whole bottle.”

  Her quip coaxes a smile from Sloan. “I’d love a glass. Anything red would be great.”

  “You got it,” Nia promises as they step into the foyer.

  Sloan takes in the house with a sweeping gaze, lingering on the full oceanfront access out the back. “Your place is beautiful. Your view…”

  “Thanks. We love it. Why don’t you follow me to the kitchen? I can tell from my husband’s face that he’s itching to grill Bas about what went down in Dallas.”

  “Thanks for throwing me to the wolves, Nia,” I quip. “Nice to know you’re on my side.”

  “Whatever you did this time, I’m sure the punishment will fit the crime.” She winks, then shoves a beer in both our hands. “Now out to the lanai with you. I need to check on dinner, and you have to leave so we can shamelessly gossip about you.”

  Nia isn’t kidding, but I expected it. “Go easy on her, please. She’s barely been here five minutes.”

  “Oh, I will. It’s your ass you should be worried about. After your text this morning, my husband cursed a blue streak like I haven’t heard in months. Of course, he also worked off some of his aggression between the sheets with me, so maybe I should thank you.”

  “TMI.” I wince.

  She just laughs—and nudges us toward the back door. “Out with you both. Go.”

  Evan opens his beer, takes a long pull, then steps onto the lanai with a sigh. I send Sloan a long last look as I pop open my bottle. She still looks nervous, but I think she’s warming to Nia. She’ll be in good hands.

  But I can’t worry about her now. I have to focus on the bigger battle in front of me.

  Evan marches to the big chair facing the ocean, under a lazily swaying ceiling fan. “Now that we’re alone, what the fuck are you doing?”

  I plop down on the outdoor sofa and take a long sip of my brew, then sigh. Might as well be honest. “I don’t know anymore.”

  “What the hell?” Evan leans in, looking like he wants to throttle me. “I’m throwing most of Stratus’s liquid cash behind this to make your under-the-table takeover happen, and you don’t know what you’re doing?”