His Wife By Contract

CHAPTER 1 VALENTINE ROSE HARPER Valentine knew something was wrong when her father’s house became quiet. Not peaceful. Quiet. There was a difference. She stopped at the entrance to the study, one hand still wrapped around her handbag. Her mother sat on the sofa. Two unfamiliar men occupied the chairs beside her. Her father stood behind his desk with his phone facedown beside a pile of documents. Nobody looked happy to see her. Valentine glanced between them. “Okay. Who died?” Her mother’s lips parted. “Valentine.” “That bad?” “Come inside.” She stepped into the room. The two men stood. Lawyers. Wonderful. Valentine’s gaze moved toward her father. “Why are there lawyers in your study?” Her father didn’t answer. That was when her stomach started doing something unpleasant. She walked toward the desk. “Dad?” He finally looked at her. Valentine had seen her father angry. She had seen him frustrated, exhausted, and furious enough to fire an entire department before breakfast. She had never seen him look defeated. He pushed a folder across the desk. “Read it.” Valentine stared at the folder. “Is this your idea of a greeting?” “Valentine.” The humor disappeared from her face. She opened it. The first page contained numbers. Large numbers. She flipped to the next. More. Then another. Bank notices. Outstanding loans. Property assessments. Legal demands. Her eyes moved faster. “No.” Her father remained silent. She turned another page. “No, this can't be right.” “It is.” Valentine looked up. Her father sat down slowly. She lowered the papers. “What happened to Harper Group?” “We had a difficult year.” “A difficult year?” She gave a disbelieving laugh. “Dad, this looks less like a difficult year and more like the company got hit by a truck.” Her mother shot her a warning look. Valentine stopped. “Sorry.” She looked back at the documents. Her father had built Harper Group from almost nothing. She remembered the tiny office where he used to work late, the old computer he refused to replace, the first company car he drove until the engine practically begged for retirement. The business had grown. So had their lives. Now she was looking at the possibility of losing all of it. “How much do we owe?” Her father’s fingers tightened around the armrest. “Thirty million.” Valentine blinked. “Thirty million what?” “Dollars.” Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. One of the lawyers shifted in his chair. Valentine pointed toward him without looking away from her father. “If he says anything comforting right now, I might throw something.” The lawyer wisely remained silent. She returned her attention to the papers. “Thirty million dollars.” “Yes.” “That's not debt. That's a hostage situation.” “Valentine.” “I'm trying to process.” She dropped into the nearest chair. Her mother came closer. “We're going to get through this.” Valentine wanted to believe her. She really did. But her mother’s voice lacked the certainty it usually carried. “How long have you known?” Her father looked away. That hurt more than the number. “How long?” “Several months.” Valentine stared at him. “Several months?” “We were trying to solve it before worrying you.” “You were trying to solve a thirty-million-dollar disaster without telling anyone?” “You had enough on your plate.” “I'm your daughter, not a decorative vase.” Her father flinched. Valentine immediately regretted it. She rubbed her forehead. “Sorry.” Nobody spoke. She looked down again. There were properties listed among the documents. Accounts. Company shares. Assets. Things that had once represented security. Now they were numbers waiting to be taken. “What happens if you can't pay?” Her father’s answer came quietly. “Harper Group goes into liquidation.” Valentine swallowed. “And the house?” “We may lose it.” Her chest tightened. Her mother sat beside her. Valentine suddenly felt sixteen again, sitting between her parents after breaking an expensive lamp and waiting for her father to decide how angry he was. Only this time there was no lamp. There was a lifetime. “Who is demanding the money?” she asked. Her father’s expression changed. “Most of the creditors have agreed to extensions.” “Most?” “There is one who hasn't.” Valentine waited. Her father reached for another document. He didn't need to say the name immediately. Something about the hesitation made her uneasy. “Lorenzo Romano.” The name landed differently. Valentine knew who he was. Everyone did. Romano Holdings had interests in half the city, and Lorenzo Romano had a reputation for making impossible deals look effortless. He was young for the kind of influence he possessed, fiercely private, and apparently allergic to losing. Valentine had never met him. She had no intention of changing that. “What does he want?” Her father slid the document toward her. Valentine read the heading. Then the first paragraph. Her expression slowly changed. “Dad.” He said nothing. She looked at him. “What exactly did Lorenzo Romano offer you?” Her father leaned back. And for the first time since she entered the room, Valentine wished desperately that she had never asked. “That's the problem,” he said. “He didn't make the offer to me.” A cold feeling settled in her stomach. “Then who did he make it to?” Her father looked directly at her. “You.”