Meant To Be

Four

There was a method to his madness… and madness to this method. Shakespeare’s quote, Zach Harrison’s thought has never been more apt. His particular method of madness was to marry.

In two weeks’ time.

Claire hung up the phone and looked at him with wide, defeated eyes. “I'd be…” she hesitated. “… happy to do your wedding. Two weeks is no problem.”

Another success for The Fixer and that meant another hefty bill would be landing his Zach’s inbox soon. Fact: sometimes you had to pay for things to go your way.

Seeing that Claire was at the end of her rope—it was the early hours of the morning and she'd had a hell of a day. Zach told her to rest and Claire immediately dropped her head back and closed her eyes. She'd been shocked by his time frame; hearing that he had yet to choose a bride might cause her brain to explode.

Because, really, who planned a wedding without securing a bride?

Apparently, he did.

Zach stretched out his legs and jammed his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, mostly to hide the small tremor in his fingers. Married? Him? He'd always believed and still did, that wedding rings were the world's smallest, strongest pair of handcuffs. But here he was, about to get hitched because grandfather refused to listen to reason.

Stubborn old bastard.

Timothy Harrison desperately wanted to invest in a friend’s yet-to-be-developed chain of luxury boutique hotels. Zach wasn't convinced that the investment would provide a decent, or any, return. But Timothy rather fancied the idea of being the world’s next hotel mogul and, since he couldn't take money from the swimming-in-cash Harrison Trust, he was determined to raise the money needed by selling his personal stake in Harrison Airlines. Zach had no intention of dealing with a new partner, of having to justify his decisions, or, far worse, asking for permission to do what he wanted, when he wanted, with his company.

No, the only option was to buy his grandfather's shares from him, and in order to raise the cash needed—without having to get banks or other investors involved—that meant, yippee-doo-dah, getting married.

Zach stared out the window into the only blackness and remembered his first visit to the stuffy offices of the Harrison Trust’s lawyers. He'd been twenty-one and in their wood-paneled offices, they told him that, as the only Harrison heir, he was entitled to a sizable monthly income from the trust but he was also set to inherit a caption of cash on his twenty-fifth birthday. If he was married.

The offer would only be renewed every five years and at twenty-five, using Timothy’s money to buy his first two cargo planes, he'd opted not to marry—he’d been having too much fun playing the field and had no intention, and no need, to sacrifice his freedom. Ditto at thirty but at thirty-five, Harrison Airlines Was worth the inconveniences. He wanted control and for control he needed cash; to get the cash he needed to marry…

He'd established and grown Harrison Airlines; it was his hard work that had made the company one of the most trusted and respected companies in the country. His clients knew that they would rely on him to get them, or their goods, where they needed to go in the shortest time possible, But Timothy wanted to go and play Monopoly with real-life assets and had placed him between a rock and a hard place. Shouldn't ninety-year-old men be smoking cigars and playing bridge?”

And of course, every time they spoke about this deal, Timothy never failed to remind him that he was ecstatic that he was being forced to marry and that maybe, God willing, he'd get a much-desired great-grandchild, preferably a grandson, out of the deal. Timothy then launched into his gift-repeated lecture on his lack of commitment to providing an heir to continue the Harrison line, that if he didn't hop to it—his words— six hundred years of DNA-soaked history would cease to exist. The art and furniture collectors all over the world. Harrison Castleb and its surrounding land would be sold to the highest bidder. The Harrisons weren't royalty but they were damn close.

And it all rested on Zach’s shoulders…

Or in his lions.

He'd had a kid, one day. Not now. Right now all he wanted to do was save his company.

Zach took a sip of his whiskey, staring past young Alfred Bridgewater—sleeping now, thank God—to the inky night beyond the window of his Global 7000 jet. The kid was so out of it, that he barely registered that he was in a private jet and hadn't noticed the rich leather seats, the fine wood banners, and the stylish carpets and stonework. This jet had just hit the market but he owned one and, being aviation crazy, it annoyed him that neither of his two guests appreciated their luxurious mode of transport.

And his annoyance had nothing to do with the aircraft's hefty price tag, which was upward of half a billion dollars. This plane was superbly designed, exquisitely manufactured, and brilliantly engineered. It was, in its way, a masterpiece. And his guests, like his grandfather, didn't share his passion for anything with an engine and two wings.

His business was damn good. And his life, up until two weeks ago, had been friggin’ amazing.

Yet, here he was, planning his wedding. And because the Harrison Trust paid for all Harrison weddings, he was going to take full advantage and turn his wedding into a massive networking event, inviting all his present clients and anybody he thought could be a potential client. If he was hoping to put his head in a hangman’s noose, then he was going to swing in style.

All he needed now was a bride.

Zach looked at the cool beauty in the chair across from him and cockedbhis head. Claire Bridgewater was beautiful; there was no doubt about it. Tall and slim, she rocked an old-school Grace Kelly vibe, classy as hell. Despite the rumors and gossip swirling around her she'd held her head high and he'd yet to see her unhinged, to break into a sweat.

He liked calm women, women who could keep it together when their lives were falling apart. That showed a strength of character few women— hell, few men—possessed. Claire Bridgewater was beautiful, sexy, and smart.

What more could he want in a wife? The Fixer had also suggested her as a candidate to be his wife; said that she was a possibility and that he could, possibly, make it happen.

Marrying Claire would've been an elegant, and quick resolution to his current problem. Except for the little problem that she was crazy about Damian Garcia… He wasn't the most perceptive guy in the world but even he noticed the way she looked at Garcia. Part exasperation, part denial, part annoyance but mostly like all she wanted to do was strip him naked and do several things to him that were X-rated. Zach knew that he was marrying for convenience, as a means to an end, but he certainly didn't need to watch his wife line for someone else. Or wish he was someone else.

So he refused The Fixer’s offer and settled for arranging for Claire to organize his blown-out wedding.

What could The Fixer have on her (a) think that could get her to agree to marriage and (b) to get her to undertake such a massive event on such short notice? It had to be something…

But Claire’s past didn't concern him and he had bigger worries. Like, who might say yes to his crazy-ass proposal to marry him?

In two weeks time.

Happy bloody birthday to him.