EX-HUSBAND'S BOSS FOR VALENTINE

HIS BROTHER'S

MELANIA:

For a moment, I still try to believe I am dreaming. There is no way I have just tied myself to a Montclair, I tell myself as I slide open my phone, heading straight to Google. I know the firstborn of the Montclairs goes by the name Damien, so it is typically impossible to be married to him.

Opening the browser, I type in The Montclairs, and the entire family shows up. There is Damien Royal Montclair, Alaric Robert Montclair, and Cassius Roger Montclair.

Have I been living under a rock? I question myself, and I hear my father’s angry voice echo in my head.

“I wanted sons, and I got daughters, but you make things worse. As the firstborn, it is your duty to carry this family, but you are interested in nothing! You know nothing about our business!”

He is right because if I had known, I wouldn’t be here, stuck in this stupid mess feels. I do not even know how to tell this story to anyone because who doesn’t check the last name of the person they marry?

I grip my phone tighter, silently cursing myself. If I were more involved in the family business, I would have recognized the name instantly. But no, I spent years avoiding that world, pretending I wasn’t my father’s daughter. And now, it’s coming back to bite me in the worst way.

“There you are!” Royal’s voice snaps me back to reality, and I turn around to see his charming face, which I now have to accept, belongs to a Montclair. “I have been looking everywhere for you,” he adds, and I click my phone button, shutting off the screen.

“I needed some fresh air. There are so many faces, and I am not used to big events.”

“That’s fine, and don’t worry, you won’t have to attend often.” He tries to reassure me, and I plant a smile on my face, but deep down, I want to rewind time—even to the first day I met Brady’s stupid ass—so I could walk away and never make this stupid mistake. He is the reason I am in this mess.

Royal reaches out for my hand, causing me to look into his eyes.

“Thank you for today, and I promise you will get at least a million dollars every month for this, and—”

“Royal,” Grandma Beatrice calls out, interrupting him, and in that moment, he wraps his hands around my waist, pressing his lips to mine. For a moment, I am stiff, but then I kiss him back. His lips taste so good, unveiling emotions I didn’t know I could feel after my year of hell with Brady. I cannot even fake this.

Beatrice chuckles. “Looks like I’m interrupting something.”

Royal pulls away, his hands still on my waist, and turns to face Beatrice, who clasps her hands together.

“Oh, young love,” she muses, and we both smile at her. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you can save this for later. The entire family is here,” she says, and Royal slides his hands away from my waist, intertwining our fingers, making me realize he is uneasy.

“Rob and Roger are here?” he asks, and his grandma nods happily.

“Great,” he replies in an uninterested tone.

“Oh, give your brothers a break. Who wouldn’t want to compete for the Montclair’s wealth?” she says in defense, reminding me of my misfortune before she turns around, making her way to the door as Royal and I trail behind.

The moment we step inside, everyone starts looking at me again, and my heart thumps hard as I wonder if any of them recognizes me as a Chestwick.

Royal keeps his grip firm on my hand, guiding me through the clusters of wealthy elites murmuring about us. At the end of the room, two men stand with two women, deep in discussion.

I don’t need an introduction to know who they are. They look similar to Royal, but he has the rarest silver eyes, which they do not possess.

Alaric Robert Montclair is the older of the two. He’s dressed in a sleek black suit, while Roger stands casually with one hand in his pocket, swirling a glass of whiskey with the other.

Royal sighs under his breath before leading me straight to them.

“Brothers,” he greets smoothly, and they both turn with their wives.

Rob's eyes me first, his scrutiny making my skin prickle. “So, this is our wife.” His voice comes out softer.

Royal raises the left corner of his lips. “Yes, she is,” he replies, then he turns to me and makes a quick introduction. We all pass handshakes.

“Your dress is gorgeous,” Roger’s wife, Chyna, compliments me, and Sienna, Rob’s wife, nods in agreement.

“Thank you,” I say to both women, smiling so hard that my chin feels like it will break. “You both look amazing, and I know I have a lot to learn to fit in.”

Sienna waves her hand in dismissal, but I mean what I say. They both look like they swim in money. Sienna has the prettiest blonde hair I have ever seen, and Chyna’s black hair is so shiny, complementing her dinner dress perfectly.

“Didn’t take you for the marrying type, Royal. What, did she hold a gun to your head?” Roger comments, and I glance at Royal, who lets out a low chuckle.

“Something like that,” he replies.

“Charming. Good thing it’s just the two of us at home, so have your fun in public,” I say, trying to get into character.

Roger laughs, tipping his glass toward me in approval. Rob, however, just watches me, making it easy to spot the tension between him and Royal.

“Well, as fun as this is,” Royal says dryly, “I’d rather spend my time with people who don’t want to give me a run for my inheritance.”

“Oh, big brother,” Roger drawls, setting his drink down on the table close by. “You wound me.”

“Not yet,” Royal mutters under his breath.

Before things can escalate, a warm, amused voice cuts through the air.

“Oh, boys, behave.”

We turn around to see Grandma Beatrice.

She steps in between us. “I know the three of you enjoy your little power plays, but tonight isn’t about business—it’s about family.” She turns to me, her lips curling into a smile. “And speaking of family, my dear, you must be thirsty after all this excitement. Plus, you’ve barely had a drink, and you’ll need a lot to get through this crazy family.”

A waiter appears beside her, holding a tray with seven glasses.

“Here,” Beatrice says, handing one to all of us. “A special toast for the night’s most important couple.”

We all clink our glasses together.

This family makes me contemplate my actions, but then I glance toward the far side of the room, where Brady and Portia stand like discarded trash. The sight sends a thrill of satisfaction through me.

Screw it.

I raise the glass to my lips and drink to my doom—maybe.

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