A DEAL WITH MY BESTFRIEND’S HUSBAND— HARRINGTON HOLDINGS

Chapter3

Nathaniel.

My legs ate up the asphalt in long, explosive strides toward the hoop. Grayson, my youngest brother, let out a sharp whistle from the sidelines. William lunged, his frame cutting across mine to rip the ball from my hands, but my grip remained a vice. I crossed him over with a brutal, low dribble, planting my foot and launching into the air. My arms extended, snapping my wrists forward as the ball tore through the net.

“Yes!” I growled, rolling my shoulders as my feet hit the concrete.

William groaned, resting his hands on his knees in frustration, while Grayson just cracked up. Reaching into his pocket, Grayson pulled out a cigar, flicking a lighter to life right there on the court, dead in the line of sight from Grandfather’s study in the south-east wing.

“Grayson,” William warned, snapping his towel against his leg as he wiped the sweat from his face.

“What?” Grayson shrugged, inhaling a thick drag.

“You know the old man's rules,” I muttered, grabbing a gallon of water. I twisted the cap off and chugged the entire bottle, letting the freezing water cut through the heat radiating off my skin.

Grayson rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a s**t about his rules. Honestly, Nathaniel, it’s hilarious how good you are at this game, yet you buried your dreams just because Grandfather snapped his fingers.” He threw up two fingers in mocking quotation marks.

I swallowed hard, the sharp truth of his words stinging more than the sweat in my eyes. I pushed it down. “Some things aren't worth chasing. Being the COO of Harrington Holdings suits me just fine.”

“And I’m perfectly content being a doctor,” William chimed in, tossing his towel aside.

“Yeah, yeah. Settle for the bare minimum, both of you,” Grayson snorted.

I leveled a hard, silent glare at him. Before he could push it, one of the estate staff approached the court, keeping his head down. “Mr. Nathaniel, Sir Arthur Harrington has requested you in his quarters.”

“I’ll be right up,” I grunted, grabbing a dry towel.

“Don’t let them bore you to death with another lecture!” Grayson yelled after me as I turned on my heel. Behind me, William’s laughter echoed across the yard.

I strode toward my private quarters in the east wing. After a scalding shower, I traded my sweat-soaked jersey for a tailored three-piece suit. Grandfather had an obsession with appearances. My entire life, I had been conditioned to dress like I was walking into a boardroom, whether I was closing a billion-dollar merger or just walking down the hallway of my own home.

That programming ran deep; it made me hyper-aware of how I carried myself.

Taking the private elevator up to Grandfather’s penthouse, the doors slid open to a suffocating silence. I halted for a fraction of a second, my eyes mapping the room. My father, mother, and grandfather were all present, lined up on the leather sofas like a tribunal.

The heavy click of my dress shoes against the marble drew their attention. Three sets of eyes snapped at mine.

“You took your time, boy,” Grandfather deadpanned. He gestured sharply to the empty armchair opposite him.

I took my seat, casually adjusting the cuffs of my shirt, keeping my face a blank wall. “What’s this about?”

“We have a matter of extreme importance to discuss,” my mother began, her posture rigid. The sheer gravity in the room put me on high alert.

“Go on,” I said, leaning back, my voice unbothered. “But if this is about the Chinese infrastructure merger, save your breath. I signed the contracts an hour ago.”

Grandfather reached out, giving my shoulder a heavy, proud pat. The rare gesture of approval instantly eased the baseline tension in my chest.

“That’s great, Nathaniel. But that’s not the reason I called you up here.” He paused, taking a slow breath. “You, my boy, have done a phenomenal job protecting the Harrington legacy. Which is why I know it is the perfect time for you to settle down.”

The phantom weight of a trap rolled across my shoulders. I tightened my posture. “I haven’t exactly met anyone y—”

“I have arranged your marriage to George Bennett’s daughter,” he cut me off. The words hit the room like a physical blow. My head snapped up, my jaw locking as the sheer absurdity of the statement registered.

“What?” The word ripped from my throat before I could filter it. “How the f**k—Grandfather, I don’t understand a single word you’re saying right now.”

The room went dead silent. My parents and grandfather exchanged stunned, rigid looks, staring at me as if I had just committed the ultimate sin.

“Did you just curse at your grandfather?” My mother gasped, shaking her head in utter disbelief, her hand flying to her chest.

Realizing the volatile cocktail of shock and anger had made me slip, I looked at my grandfather. A flicker of genuine hurt crossed his weathered face. The sight pinched my chest. Hurting the old man was the one thing I couldn't tolerate.

“Grandfather, I apologize. I didn't mean to disrespect you,” I muttered, forcing my voice back into control. “I was just entirely blindsided.”

“Son,” Grandfather said, his tone softening into that familiar warmth. “You know I always have your best interests and the future of this family in my heart. The Harrington legacy must keep expanding. George Bennett is not just a trusted friend and investor; his daughter is a highly cultured woman. She just finished at Harvard.”

I cleared my throat, my knuckles turning white against the armrest. “I’m simply stating that I don’t know her. You don't marry a stranger.”

“That’s fine. You have a date with her in thirty minutes,” he stated flatly. “Get yourself ready. Your mother has already begun the wedding preparations.”

Disbelief flared hot through my veins. “When did any of this even happen? Why am I just now finding out about my own life?”

“Don’t you trust me, son?” Grandfather asked, his heavy hand anchoring onto my shoulder again.

“I do, but—”

“Then don’t worry about the details. Remember, this is for the legacy.” He cut me off cleanly, turning his head back to my parents to resume their conversation like I had already been dismissed.

I clenched my fists so tight my palms stung, a quiet fury roaring in my chest. First, it was my athletic career. Now, my entire future was being negotiated behind closed doors without my consent. Christ. I had never given a damn about marriage. I didn't care about romance, and I certainly didn't care about sharing my life with a woman.

Up until now, my private life consisted of strictly physical encounters—discreet women who signed non-disclosure agreements before stepping into my bed. Settling down felt massive.

I sat there trapped in my own head, their voices blurring into a dull hum as they casually mapped out my existence. A part of me wanted to tear the room apart and refuse.

But the stronger, deeply drilled part of me couldn't bear to disappoint Grandfather. Besides, a cynical thought crossed my mind: maybe an arranged marriage with strict boundaries was actually the perfect solution. I hated emotional entanglements anyway. If we set cold rules, I could keep my private life entirely separate and simply remain legally loyal to whatever the lady’s name was.

For all I knew, she was just as miserable about this forced setup as I was.

“Nathaniel,” Grandfather’s sharp voice broke through the fog, snapping me back to reality. “It’s time. You’re meeting her at Bennett’s Café.”

I gave him a stiff, curt nod and stood up, adjusting my jacket. My mother stepped forward, pressing a small, heavy velvet box into my palm. “You can’t meet your fiancée for the first time empty-handed.”

I took the box, my grip tightening on the velvet. “She isn't my fiancée yet.”

A low, knowing chuckle rippled between my parents as they turned back to their hushed discussion. I turned on my heel and walked out of the penthouse, stepping into the waiting elevator. As the doors slid shut, cutting off the sound of my family, I stared at the ceiling, wondering how I was about to survive such a colossal waste of time.