Desperate Measures
1669 Words
Josephine Brooks
“Arthur, I’m looking for a partner, not a small European nation. Are you sure your glasses didn't fail you? Check the zeros again. Maybe it’s seven million?”
“It’s seventy, Josephine,” Arthur said, sounding too calm for the news he was delivering to me.
“Fu— but why?”
“Your mother was terrified of someone who would marry you to access the trust. You have to be married to a man who already has significant liquid assets, seventy million or more, then your trust fund holds no practical value to him. He cannot be seen to benefit from it, depend on it, or influence it.”
I hung up without saying goodbye. I didn't have the manners left in me.
“It’s not over yet, Jo,” Tess said softly from the front seat. “We just need to find a guy who thinks fifty million dollars is pocket change.”
I sank back into the leather seat, staring out the window. Where on earth was I going to find an eligible bachelor worth seventy million dollars? The only billionaires I knew were eighty years old and married.
The silence in the car was suffocating. “I need to get dropped off,” I said suddenly, checking my watch.
“Where?” Chloe asked.
“My dad’s birthday dinner. I can’t miss it.”
Richard drove and they dropped me off before taking cabs home.
Before I could get in the house my phone buzzed.
Jo, the industrial fridge in the kitchen just blew a fuse. The milk and meat are spoiling. We need an emergency repairman.
I stared at it until the screen went dark. What was I supposed to say?
I spent three minutes in the driveway looking at the message then I reapplied lip gloss and practiced my ‘I’m fine’ face.
The house was a modest, sprawling ranch.
I walked in, and the smell of roasting garlic hit me.
“There she is!” My brother, Leo, yelled from the kitchen. He was three years younger than me and had inherited all of our mother’s towering height, standing at a massive six-foot-three.
“You’re late,” Leo said, wiping his hands on his apron as he took three long strides toward me.
“Traffic on the interstate was—” He didn't let me finish, wrapping his thick arms around my shoulders and pulling me into a suffocating bear hug.
He intentionally rubbed his flour-dusted cheek against my face like an overgrown toddler.
“Did you seriously just ruin my makeup?” I groaned, pushing against his chest.
“Welcome home, sis,” he grinned brightly, stepping back to inspect the streak of white powder on my cheekbone.
I rolled my eyes, a genuine smile finally breaking through my defenses. “Okay, giant. You’ve had your fun. Where’s Dad?”
“Out on the patio. He’s got company.” Leo turned back to the oven, carefully sliding the cake out of the oven.
“Who?”I grabbed the icing bag, scribbled ‘HBD World’s Best Dad’ across the cake and packed the food onto the tray heading to the patio
“Who is it—”The words died instantly in my throat. The heavy tray slipped from my fingers, and I barely caught the edge of the aluminum before it crashed into the deck boards.
Of course Nikolai was here. He had an uncanny ability to trigger a visceral, flight-or-fight response in me just by occupying the same space.
He was leaning against the mantel with a glass of bourbon in his hand.
He looked… different.
Older, but sharper.
His sleeves were rolled, exposing his strong, veiny forearms which were annoyingly noticeable.
His hair was shorter now, a streak of grey cutting through the front.
It suited him. Unfortunately.
My stomach did a weird, fluttery somersault that I immediately blamed on the lack of lunch.
“Look who finally arrived?” Leo announced, stepping onto the patio behind me.
I ignored my brother, walking over to the outdoor table to set the food down before wrapping my arms around my father's neck.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” my dad chuckled, patting my back warmly. His hand moved to the back of my head, his fingers running through my hair just like he’d done when I was a child.
Instantly, the frantic static in my brain went completely quiet.
“Happy birthday, Dad,” I whispered, pulling back and taking a seat in the empty iron chair directly opposite Nikolai.
“Josephine.” Nikolai inclined his head, his deep, gravelly baritone sending a subtle tremor down my spine.
“I didn’t realize you were back in California,” I said, keeping my tone carefully detached.
His dark eyes tracked across my features, deliberate and assessing, like he was taking inventory of an old adversary.
“I wouldn’t miss Fred’s birthday, Josephine. I’m not the monster you’ve constructed in your head.” I tilted my head, matching his stare.
“Fascinating. So the relocation to Manhattan actually improved your personality.”
Leo choked on a sip of water behind me.
Nikolai didn’t flinch. “I wish I could say the same for your manners.”
“I have excellent manne—”
My father sighed from his chair. “Must we do this every time?”
“Yes,” Leo said immediately. “It’s my favorite part of family gatherings.”
“It’s my birthday today. So I’d appreciate it if you two dropped your hate for each other just for today.” My dad said.
“Fine.” Nikolai said, taking a slow sip of his bourbon. I shot him a look before taking my eyes off him.
“Thank you. Now let’s dig in.” My dad rubbed his hands together.
I laughed at the right times. I pushed my food around my plate. But I could feel Nikolai’s gaze on me like he could sense something was wrong
“So, Josephine,” my dad said, leaning back as the plates were cleared. “How is Hope Haven?”
“Perfectly Fine.” I lied smoothly with a smile
I was not about to tell him that the foundation was falling apart with little finances.
My dad had retired three years ago after a series of small strokes had taken the wind out of his sails. He wasn't the titan he used to be.
Most of the family wealth had been poured into the foundation long ago, leaving him with a comfortable pension and a house full of memories, but zero ability to bail me out.
And telling him was just going to burden him and send him into another heart attack
“And how is that lawyer boyfriend of yours?” Dad pressed. “Mark, right? Are you two still serious?”
My posture stiffened. “Mark and I are… no longer a thing.”
My father frowned. “Oh? I thought you two were quite serious.”
“We were,” I said, my internal sarcasm leaking out. “Right up until I caught him doing some very intensive research into the anatomy of a blonde in his hallway.”
Leo let out a low whistle. “Ouch.”
“Well,” my father sighed heavily. “That’s a shame. I suppose that puts a delay on the trust requirements.”
“I’m fine, Dad. Honestly. Being single is very… efficient.”
Dad turned his attention to Nikolai, changing the subject. “How’s the divorce coming along?”
“It’s a headache,” Nikolai answered.
“I thought it was finalized?” My father asked.
“The divorce is,” Nikolai said, his jaw tightening. “The custody battle for my son is not. My ex-wife is playing the ‘unstable bachelor’ card.”
I watched him as he spoke.
“My lawyers have given me some very specific, very annoying advice,” Nikolai continued, a dry smile touching his lips. “They say I need to show the court that I’m a family man. That I have a stable partner. A wife, preferably.”
“A wife?” Leo laughed. “Who are you going to marry, Nik?”
“At this point, I’d marry a coat rack if it had a clean background check,” Nikolai muttered.
My father leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, Nikolai, Josephine is quite the matchmaker. She spent a year in a matchmaking firm before she took over Hope Haven. Maybe she can help you find a suitable candidate.”
I nearly choked on my wine. “What?”
“Oh, come on, Jo,” Leo teased. “It could be your side hustle. ‘Brooks & Bonds: We find you a wife so you can keep your kids.’ It’s a niche market.”
“Come on Jose.” My father pressed. “How much did she take in the settlement again, Nik?”
“Three hundred and forty million and forty percent of my assets.” Nikolai answered, like he was discussing about the weather
“See. He can’t lose his son too. And maybe you guys can get along with each ot…..” I had already zoned out to my own thoughts when I heard his ex-wife took three hundred and forty million dollars from him.
And he was sitting here acting like it was a minor inconvenience. My mind, which had been quietly spiraling all evening, suddenly locked onto a lethal calculation.
He didn’t just meet the seventy-million-dollar threshold, he blew past it entirely. Fifty million dollars to him was the price of a private jet charter.
He was the single asset that could save Hope Haven.
All I had to do was propose marriage to my father’s best friend, the one man who made my blood pressure skyrocket simply by existing. I looked across the table, meeting his dark, intense stare.
How hard could it possibly be?
- Writer
