MARRIED TO THE RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE

THE OTHER BLACKWOOD

Blackwood House stood behind iron gates and a mile of manicured hedges, a world away from the tourists and summer traffic of East Hampton.

Avery had expected a mansion. She had not expected a property that looked like a private museum with a security budget.

Cole Foster, Adrian's head of security, met her at the entrance.

“Mr. Blackwood will join you shortly,” he said. “He asked me to take you to the library.”

“Does he always summon people to his home like a villain in a spy movie?”

Cole's expression didn't change. “Only on weekdays.”

Avery almost smiled.

In the library, a lawyer presented a draft agreement. Avery opened it and immediately found three clauses she disliked and one she refused to accept.

“Six months of public appearances,” she read. “Separate private living spaces. Confidentiality. No public statements without mutual approval.”

“Those are preliminary terms,” the lawyer said.

“And this?” She pointed to a clause concerning the Bennett family trust. “It says the medical funding can be suspended at the discretion of Blackwood Holdings.”

The lawyer looked uncomfortable.

“Remove it,” Avery said. “The money for Ethan's care goes into independent escrow before I sign anything. Neither Vanessa nor Adrian gets to use it as leverage afterward. I also want access to his doctors.”

“Mr. Blackwood would have to authorize that change.”

“Then call him.”

Adrian appeared in the doorway before the lawyer could move.

“I heard you,” he said.

Avery turned. “Then you heard the part where your contract treats my brother like a bargaining chip.”

Adrian glanced at the page. “Have it revised.”

The lawyer blinked. “Sir?”

“Independent escrow. Direct medical access. Her own counsel. Make the funding irrevocable once the agreement is executed.”

Avery had prepared an argument. His immediate agreement disarmed her for half a second.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Yes. I won't give up my education, and I won't be expected to sleep with you.”

His face became unreadable.

“Your room will be yours,” he said. “Your body will be yours. I am asking for a marriage on paper, not ownership.”

“Then why do I feel like you want revenge?”

He was silent.

Avery closed the folder. “There it is again. That look.”

“What look?”

“Like you hated me before we met.”

A muscle moved along his jaw.

“I have my reasons.”

“Then you're going to have to do better than that.”

He left without another word.

The lawyer suggested they break for lunch.

Avery, who had not wanted to come here at all, suddenly needed air.

She wandered past a glass conservatory and into a garden alive with white roses and late-summer lavender. A fountain murmured beside a terrace. Beyond it, under the shade of a climbing wisteria, someone was painting.

A man sat before an easel, a narrow brush poised above a canvas full of sunflowers.

At the sound of Avery's footsteps, he turned.

She stopped so abruptly her heel caught between two paving stones.

Adrian Blackwood was looking at her.

Except he wasn't.

The face was identical. The same dark hair, the same sharply drawn mouth, the same gray eyes. But this man wore a paint-stained white shirt, and there was warmth in his expression that Avery had never seen in Adrian's.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't realize anyone was out here.”

The man set down his brush and smiled.

“Are you—” She swallowed. “Are you Adrian's brother?”

He gave a small nod.

“Twins?”

Another nod.

“Okay. I have about a thousand questions.”

His smile widened, but he didn't speak.

Avery looked at the painting. The sunflowers were unfinished, their centers dark against an almost blinding yellow. Something about them made the garden feel more peaceful than the house.

“It's beautiful,” she said.

He glanced from her to the canvas, as though surprised anyone had noticed.

“I'm Avery.”

He touched two fingers lightly to his chest, then gestured toward the studio behind him. On a small brass plate beside its door, Avery read a name.

JULIAN BLACKWOOD.

“Julian,” she said. “It's nice to meet you.”

He inclined his head. His eyes flickered toward the house, and for the first time the smile faded.

Footsteps sounded on the gravel path.

“There you are.”

Adrian stood at the edge of the terrace.

His gaze traveled from Avery to Julian, then to the painting.

“Julian,” he said quietly. “Go inside.”

Julian's shoulders tightened.

Avery looked between the brothers. They had exactly the same face. Somehow they made the same silence mean completely different things.

Julian picked up his brushes and left.

Adrian watched until the studio door closed.

“You shouldn't wander through the grounds alone,” he told her.

“Why? Is there another secret twin hiding behind the greenhouse?”

“This isn't a joke.”

“No,” she said. “I don't think any part of this family is.”

For an instant, she thought she saw fear behind his anger.

Then it was gone.