HONOR ME

TWO

ANDRÉ

The silence in my office was interrupted by the sharp click of the door.

Dustin walked in without knocking, a habit I'd stopped trying to correct years ago. He dropped a thick file onto my desk before sinking into the chair opposite me.

"So..." He folded his arms with a grin. "You actually agreed to it."

I didn't look up from the contract in front of me.

"I did."

He shook his head, still smiling.

"I honestly didn't think you'd say yes."

"There wasn't much of a choice."

"There never is when forty percent of the family's shares are involved."

That finally caught my attention.

I closed the file and leaned back in my chair.

"The board made their conditions perfectly clear."

Dustin nodded.

"If you don't get married before you turn thirty, you lose your claim to the shares."

"Exactly."

"And if you do..."

"I inherit them."

A low whistle escaped his lips.

"Forty percent is one hell of an incentive."

"It is."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"So that's it? You're really going through with the marriage?"

"It's only a marriage."

He laughed.

"Only a marriage?"

"People get married every day."

"Not because their inheritance depends on it."

I shrugged.

"My reasons are my own."

Dustin studied me for a moment before smirking.

"I feel sorry for the poor woman."

"Why?"

"Because she'll have to put up with you."

A small chuckle escaped me.

"I doubt she'll complain."

"Oh, I know she won't." He grinned. "You're rich, annoyingly handsome, and somehow still arrogant."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You would."

Silence settled between us for a brief moment.

"So..." Dustin continued. "Have you met her yet?"

I shook my head.

"No."

"You've never even seen her?"

"No."

"And you're marrying her."

"Apparently."

He laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

"This has to be the strangest thing you've ever agreed to."

"I've agreed to stranger."

"I highly doubt that."

I slid the contract aside and reached for my laptop.

Dustin watched curiously as I typed a name into the search bar.

**Skyler McCarthy-Smith.**

Within seconds, hundreds of articles appeared.

Photographs.

Interviews.

Charity events.

Social media posts.

Dustin leaned across the desk.

"So that's her?"

"I suppose."

The first article caught my attention.

**Medical Graduate Returns Home After Completing Studies in Germany**

Germany.

Interesting.

I clicked the link.

Several photographs filled the screen.

One showed Skyler standing outside a university building in a graduation gown, smiling as she held her certificate.

Another captured her laughing with a group of children at what appeared to be a charity event.

She looked...

Different.

Not the overly polished socialites usually featured in magazines.

There was something effortless about her smile.

Something genuine.

A video thumbnail appeared beneath the article.

Without thinking, I clicked play.

The footage opened inside a children's rehabilitation centre.

A little girl sat quietly in a wheelchair, her tiny fingers nervously twisting the sleeve of her sweater.

Skyler crouched until they were at eye level.

"What's your name?" she asked gently.

"Lily."

"That's a beautiful name."

The little girl smiled shyly.

"Can I ask you something?"

Skyler nodded.

"Of course."

"Will I ever walk again?"

The room fell silent.

Even through a computer screen, I could see the uncertainty in the child's eyes.

Skyler smiled.

"I don't know what tomorrow looks like."

The little girl lowered her head.

"But I do know one thing."

She held out her little finger.

"If you promise never to stop trying..."

The child looked up.

"...then I promise never to stop believing in you."

A slow smile spread across the little girl's face.

She hooked her finger around Skyler's.

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

The video ended.

I realised I was still staring at the blank screen.

Dustin broke the silence.

"Well?"

I looked at him.

"She wasn't what I expected."

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know."

"A spoiled heiress?"

I didn't answer.

He smiled knowingly.

"That's what I thought."

I closed the browser.

"It changes nothing."

"You sure about that?"

"It changes nothing."

Dustin stood, straightening his jacket.

"If you say so."

He walked towards the door before stopping.

"Oh."

I looked up.

"Try not to scare her away before the wedding."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He laughed.

"I doubt it."

With that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving the office unusually quiet.

I leaned back in my chair.

My eyes drifted towards the laptop once more.

For someone I'd never met...

Skyler McCarthy-Smith had already occupied far more of my attention than I intended.

A firm knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened.

My father stepped inside.

Richard Larsen.

He glanced at the laptop before looking at me.

"You're still here."

"I was finishing some work."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"The exhibition starts in less than an hour."

I glanced at my watch.

I'd completely lost track of time.

"I'll leave now."

"You should."

He adjusted the cuff of his suit.

"Pamela McCarthy-Smith will be attending."

"I know."

"And so will her daughter."

For reasons I couldn't explain, my thoughts drifted back to the video.

*"If you promise never to stop trying..."*

I blinked.

"I'll be there."

"You'd better."

Without another word, my father turned and left.

The office fell silent again.

Four hours later…

My apologies, Mr. André," my assistant said from the doorway. "Your father wants to know if you're on your way."

I glanced at the clock.

"Damn."

The exhibition.

"I'll be there within the hour."

An hour later my Bentley rolled into the exhibition's private entrance.

A security guard hurried over.

"Welcome, Mr. Larsen."

I tossed him my keys.

"Take care of it."

"Of course, sir."

I adjusted my cufflinks before walking into the grand hall.

Crystal chandeliers illuminated the enormous room while live music floated through the air.

Everywhere I looked stood familiar faces.

Billionaires.

Politicians.

CEOs.

Models.

The usual crowd.

Thankfully, the speeches had already ended.

I picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"Mr. André Larsen."

I turned.

Patricia von Hesse.

Now there was a woman I hadn't seen in years.

She smiled knowingly.

"It's been a while."

"It has."

She laughed.

"I thought you'd forgotten me."

"Impossible."

Three years ago we'd dated for a few months.

Until the media decided to turn our relationship into front-page entertainment.

The attention became unbearable.

She ended things.

I moved on.

Life continued.

"You look beautiful," I said.

"You still flirt with every woman you see."

"It's a gift."

She rolled her eyes, though she was smiling.

"I've missed this."

"Me," I corrected. "You've missed me."

She laughed.

"Still unbelievably confident."

"I prefer charming."

Patricia shook her head.

"I heard you're getting married."

There it was.

The question everyone seemed desperate to ask.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"It's a business decision."

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

Before I could answer, she leaned closer.

"Cameras are everywhere," she whispered. "Talk to me later."

She slipped back into the crowd.

I watched her disappear before finishing the last of my champagne.

Marriage.

I couldn't believe I was actually doing this.

"Where have you been?"

Mother's voice carried across the hall.

I turned to find both of my parents approaching.

"You've kept everyone waiting."

"I got here, didn't I?"

Mother ignored my sarcasm.

"The Smiths are waiting."

She straightened my tie like I was still twelve years old.

"Smile for once."

"I'm smiling."

"No, you're smirking."

"Close enough."

She sighed.

"You are impossible."

"I've heard that before."

Father stepped beside us.

"Come."

The three of us crossed the ballroom.

Standing near the centre was Pamela McCarthy.

She greeted my parents warmly before turning to me.

"Mr. André Larsen," she said with a smile, extending her hand.

"It's a pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. McCarthy."

"We know how busy you are," she said politely. "Thank you for coming."

"Business never truly sleeps."

She laughed softly.

"No, I suppose it doesn't."

Father looked between us.

"André..."

He gestured towards the woman standing beside Pamela.

"I'd like you to meet your fiancée."

My eyes shifted to her.

Skyler McCarthy Smith.

For a brief second...

Everything else in the ballroom disappeared.

She wasn't dressed extravagantly like most billionaire daughters.

There was something effortlessly elegant about her.

Simple.

Graceful.

Completely unaware that I had just spent hours reading about her.

And judging by the expression on her face...

She looked just as unimpressed to meet me as I was to meet her.

Interesting, I thought.

This marriage might not be as boring as I expected.