THE PERFECT EXCHANGE

Behind Closed Doors

Zayn's POV

I led Richard Monroe into my private study and closed the door with more force than necessary. The man had the audacity to look nervous. Good. He should be.

"Sit," I commanded, gesturing to the chair across from my desk.

He sat. I remained standing, using my height to intimidate him. It was a tactic I'd learned from my father, one I'd perfected over the years. Make them feel small, and they'll give you what you want.

"Would you like to explain what just happened out there?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you tried to deceive me."

"I can explain—" Richard started.

"Then explain." I crossed my arms. "I met with Lily Monroe six days ago. We had lunch at Le Bernardin. We discussed the terms of our arrangement. She was enthusiastic, confident, exactly what I expected from someone raised in Manhattan society." I leaned forward, bracing my hands on the desk. "That woman out there is not Lily Monroe. So who is she, and why did you think you could pass her off as your eldest daughter?"

Richard's face had gone pale. "That's Emma. My younger daughter. Lily... Lily left."

"Left," I repeated flatly. "Left where? When?"

"Two days ago. In the middle of the night. She took her clothes, her passport, everything. She ran away without any explanation."

I felt anger surge through me, cold and sharp. "And you thought the appropriate response was to substitute her younger sister without informing me?"

"I had no choice!" Richard's voice rose. "The engagement party was already planned. Two hundred guests invited. The investment papers drawn up. If I'd canceled, you would have pulled out of the deal entirely."

"You're damn right I would have." I straightened up, putting distance between us. "This arrangement was based on specific terms. I agreed to invest in Monroe Industries in exchange for a marriage alliance with your family. I met Lily. I evaluated her. I determined she would be... suitable for my purposes."

"Emma is just as suitable—"

"I don't know Emma!" My voice cracked like a whip through the room. "I spent three hours with Lily, getting to know her, assessing whether she could handle being Mrs. Zayn Lancaster. I know nothing about this Emma except that she showed up at my engagement party wearing her sister's dress and lying to my face."

"She wasn't lying. She told you the truth immediately—"

"After I recognized she wasn't Lily!" I moved to the window, needing to put space between myself and this man before I did something I'd regret. "Do you understand what you've done, Richard? You've made me look like a fool in front of half of Manhattan's elite. Everyone out there now knows that my bride ran away and her family tried to replace her like she was an interchangeable part."

The silence that followed was heavy. When Richard spoke again, his voice was small, defeated.

"I'm sorry. I was desperate. I still am. Without your investment, Monroe Industries will collapse within sixty days. My family will lose everything."

"That sounds like a you problem," I said coldly.

"Please." He stood up, and I saw genuine fear in his eyes. "I know I handled this wrong. I should have called you immediately when Lily left. But I panicked. I thought if I could just get Emma here, if you could meet her, maybe you'd give us a chance."

I turned away from the window to look at him.

"A chance at what?"

"At saving the arrangement. Emma is smart, well-educated. She's quieter than Lily, but she's a good girl. She'll be a good wife—"

"I don't want a good wife," I interrupted. "I want a competent business partner who happens to be female. This marriage is a strategic alliance, nothing more. Lily understood that. Does Emma?"

Richard hesitated. "I haven't exactly explained all the details to her yet."

Of course he hadn't. I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache forming behind my eyes. This entire situation was a disaster.

"Tell me about her," I said finally. "This Emma. What does she do? What are her interests?”

"She's an artist. A painter. She does

landscapes mostly, some commission work. She's been showing in small galleries around the city."

An artist. Perfect. Exactly what I needed in a wife, someone with her head in the clouds and no understanding of business or society. This just kept getting better.

"Is she amenable to this arrangement?" I asked. "Or did you force her into this the way you're trying to force me?"

Richard looked away. "She understands what's at stake for the family."

"That's not what I asked."

"She agreed to come tonight," he said finally.

"She agreed to take Lily's place."

I studied him carefully. There was something he wasn't saying, something in the way his shoulders hunched and his eyes wouldn't meet mine.

"What did you do, Richard?" I asked quietly.

"What did you threaten her with to make her agree?"

"Nothing! I didn't threaten her. I just... I explained the situation. I told her what would happen to the family if she said no."

"So you guilted her into this." I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You manipulated your own daughter into sacrificing herself to save your failing company. Does that about sum it up?"

Richard's jaw tightened. "A man does what he has to do to protect his family."

"No," I corrected. "A man takes responsibility for his mistakes instead of using his children as bargaining chips."

I moved back to my desk, my mind racing through options. I could walk away right now. Cancel the arrangement, let Monroe Industries collapse, wash my hands of this entire mess. It would be the smart thing to do, the logical choice.

But then I thought about the woman on that terrace with my mother. Emma. She'd looked terrified when she admitted who she was, but she'd held her head up and told the truth anyway. That took courage. More courage than her father had, certainly.

And there was something about her eyes. Brown, warm, nothing like Lily's calculated green gaze. Emma had looked at me like she was seeing a person, not a bank account. No one had looked at me like that in years.

"I want to talk to her," I said suddenly. "Alone. Without you hovering and trying to manage the conversation."

Richard looked panicked. "I don't think that's a good idea. She's nervous, she might say the wrong thing—"

"Then she says the wrong thing," I interrupted.

"I want to know who Emma Monroe really is, not the version you've coached her to present. If this arrangement is going to continue, I need to evaluate her myself."

"And if you don't like what you find?"

I met his eyes directly. "Then Monroe Industries can find another savior. Because I won't be tied to someone I can't trust or respect for the rest of my life, no matter how beneficial the business arrangement might be."

Richard swallowed hard. "How long do I have? To prepare her, I mean."

"You don't." I moved toward the door. "I'm going to talk to her right now. You can wait here, or you can go back to the party. But you're not coming with me."

I opened the door and walked out before he could protest. My mother and Emma were still on the terrace, visible through the French doors. Emma's back was to me, her shoulders tense, her posture screaming discomfort.

This was probably the worst idea I'd had in years. But I needed to know. I needed to understand who this woman was and whether she was another player in her father's game or an unwilling pawn who deserved better.

I walked toward the terrace, my mind already forming the questions I needed to ask.

Emma Monroe was about to get her first real conversation with her potential husband.

And I was about to determine whether this disaster of an evening could be salvaged or if I was walking away from the Monroe family forever.