Bound by Ink, Chosen by Heart

CHAPTER FOUR

The silence hung heavy for a few moments, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Then my brother leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

“What you need right now,” he said, voice low, teasing, “is a distraction. Something to clear your head. A club, maybe? Or… is there somewhere better?”

I shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. “This isn’t about fun. Or clubs. Or distractions. This is about three months—three months to find a wife or lose everything.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Exactly why you need to stop brooding for a second. You’re taking this way too seriously. Stress wrinkles, Zach. Trust me—don’t inherit the company with a scowl glued to your face.”

I rubbed my temples. “I don’t need your advice. I need solutions.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, casual, almost mocking. “Solutions? Easy. Step one: loosen up. Step two: meet people. Step three: charm them. Step four: marry someone impressive. Done.”

My sister groaned softly beside us, her eyes narrowing. “Honestly, Lucas… must you always make everything sound like a game?”

He ignored her, smirking at me. “Zachary, bro, think of it this way—you’ve got three months. The clock’s ticking. Might as well start enjoying the ride.”

I clenched my fists again, jaw tight. “This isn’t a game. And I’m not going to… play around just because she decided to manipulate me.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Manipulate? Maybe. But trust me—sometimes you gotta play the rules they set if you want the prize. Or do you want the company to slip through your fingers?”

The words hit, sharp and undeniable. I stared at him, weighing the absurdity against reality.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered.

“Am I?” he said, grinning, “Or am I just the brother who’s going to make sure you survive three months without losing your mind?”

Silence returned for a beat, heavier this time, but not oppressive. The challenge was clear, the ultimatum set, and now… the plan, ridiculous or not, had begun.By the time evening rolled around, the plan was set. Despite my protests, my brother had convinced us all that a night out was necessary—part strategy, part distraction.

“Trust me,” he said, sliding his jacket on, paint-stained fingers adjusting the collar with careless precision. “One night. You’ll clear your head, maybe meet someone interesting, and I’ll make sure you don’t end up drowning in stress.”

I glanced at my sister. She rolled her eyes but nodded, clearly more amused than concerned. “Just… don’t let him drag you into trouble,” she warned, her voice soft.

“Trouble is my specialty,” my brother said with a grin, winking at me.

I groaned, straightening my jacket. “I’m not here to play games. Remember that.”

“You’ll survive,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Barely. But you’ll survive.”

By the time we arrived at the club, the city was alive with lights and music spilling onto the streets. My brother’s energy was infectious, dragging me through the crowd despite my reluctance. My sister and her husband followed at a slower pace, keeping a careful eye on us both.

Inside, the bass thumped against my chest, the room a blur of lights and movement. My brother scanned the crowd immediately, smirking, clearly in his element. “See?” he shouted over the music. “This is where plans start, Zach. Networking, opportunities, distractions… take your pick.”

I stayed back, arms folded, trying to absorb the chaos without getting pulled completely in. I wasn’t here for fun—I was here because my grandmother had set a deadline, and my brother had decided the best way to cope was… a night at a club.

Still, even as I resisted, part of me couldn’t deny the pull. Three months. That was all I had. And if surviving a night with my brother’s antics was the first step, I had no choice but to take it.