Bound to Mr. BLACKWOOD

Chapter 4

Rachel was already at my door by seven.

She had pastries, which meant she wanted something, and she had that particular smile, wide and warm and just slightly too bright, which meant she already knew more than she was letting on. I'd known her long enough to read the difference. Most people couldn't. That was exactly how she liked it.

"You look terrible," she said, walking past me into the apartment.

"Good morning to you too."

"Have you slept?"

"Bits."

She set the pastries on the counter and turned to look at me with her arms crossed, head tilted, doing the thing she always did where she made you feel like you were her entire focus, like nothing in the world existed outside of this conversation.

"So," she said. "What are you going to do?"

I poured two cups of tea and slid one across the counter. "I already did it."

She stared at me. "Elene."

"I went up yesterday morning and we talked."

"And?"

I wrapped both hands around my mug. "I said yes."

The silence lasted exactly three seconds. I counted.

"You said yes," she repeated.

"With conditions and terms. It's a documented legal arrangement, Rachel, it's not…"

"You said yes to a contractual marriage with your CEO." Her voice was perfectly even. "Just to be clear."

"When you say it like that…"

"How else am I supposed to say it?"

I didn't have an answer for that.

She picked up her tea, looked into it for a moment, then looked at me. "He's not a good man, Elene."

"You don't know him."

"I know his reputation. I've heard you talk about him for three years." She set her mug down. "Cold, calculated, everyone beneath him is a resource. At some point that stops being professional and starts being character."

"You're describing half the CEOs in New York."

"I'm describing the one you just agreed to marry."

I looked at her and she looked back, all warmth and worry and best friend who just wants what's best for you, and I couldn't find a single thing wrong with it.

That was the thing about Rachel. You never could.

"I appreciate you worrying," I said carefully. "But I need you in my corner on this one. Okay? I don't have a lot of corners right now."

Something flickered behind her eyes, quick and quiet. She picked her mug back up and smiled. "Always," she said. "You know that."

I nodded and told myself I believed her.

………….

My father was in the sitting room when Rachel left. He hadn't gone to the office, which was unusual. He was just sitting, both hands flat on his knees, staring at nothing with the kind of concentration that seemed too serious for things that weren't actually there.

I sat in the chair across from him and waited.

He looked up eventually. "You spoke to him?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I said yes." I held his gaze. "With conditions."

He nodded slowly, like he was processing my answer on top of something heavier, like my decision was the small thing and whatever he was already carrying was what he was actually sitting with.

"Dad." I leaned forward. "You're not going to say anything? Your daughter just agreed to marry a man she barely knows and you're sitting there like I told you about a change in weather."

He bent his head. His hands tightened on his knees.

"Talk to me," I said, quieter this time. "I'm walking into something I don't fully understand and you clearly know more than you're saying. I need you to give me something."

"You're going to be fine." His voice came out rough. "I promise you that."

"That's not what I asked."

"Elene…"

"How does he know about us?" I kept my voice steady even though my hands weren't. "How does John Blackwood know enough about our family to show up outside our house and offer to fix everything? We're not in his world. We've never been in his world. So how?"

My father looked at me for a long moment. His jaw worked like he was chewing on words he couldn't release.

"Some things," he said quietly, "are better left until you're ready for them."

"I'm ready now."

"You're not." His eyes were wet. Actually wet. I hadn't seen my father cry since I was nine years old. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're not getting the answers you came for. I'm sorry I can't…" He stopped and pressed his lips together. "Just trust me when I tell you that you will be safe. That's all I can give you right now."

The same words Blackwood had used.

*That's all I can give you right now.*

I sat back and looked at my father, this man I had loved my entire life without question, and felt something shift quietly beneath that love, the way ground shifts under a house when something moves too far below the surface.

"Okay," I said.

He exhaled.

"But Dad." I stood, picked up my bag, and met his eyes one last time. "Whatever it is you're not telling me, I'm going to find it. You know that, right?"

He didn't answer.

That was answer enough.

………….

My phone buzzed on my way out.

Contract draft will be ready Thursday. — JAB

I stared at the initials for a second. JAB. Like he went around jabbing people and wanted everyone to know.

I typed back before I could think too hard about it.

Make it Wednesday. I don't like waiting. — EH

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

*Wednesday then.*

I locked my phone and walked out into the morning and tried very hard not to think about the fact that I was, apparently, going to marry John Alexander Blackwood.

I also tried very hard not to think about the envelope still sitting in my photo album.

I failed on both counts.