Three
Cia eased into her grandfather’s study, tiptoeing in deference to his bowed head and scribbling hand, but his seventy-year-old faculties hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. He glanced up from the desk, waved her in and scratched out another couple of sentences on his yellow legal pad. Paper and pen, same as he’d used for decades. Benicio Allende owned one of the premier technology companies in the world, yet remained firmly entrenched in the past.
A tiny bit of guilt over the lie she was about to tell him curled her toes.
Abuelo folded his hands and regarded her with his formidable deep-set gaze. “What brings you by today?”
Of course he cut right to the purpose of her unusual visit, and she appreciated it. A dislike of extraneous decorum was the only thing they had in common. When she’d come to live with him after her parents’ accident, the adjustment had been steep on both sides. Prior to that, he’d been just as much her dad’s boss as her dad’s father. She’d long since stopped wishing for a grandfather with mints in his pocket and a twinkly smile.
Instead, she’d gleaned everything she could from him about how to succeed.
“Hello, Abuelo. I have some news. I’m getting married.” Better leave it at that. He’d ask questions to get the pertinent information.
Their stiff holiday dinners and occasional phone calls had taught her not to indulge in idle chatter, especially not about her personal life. Nothing made him more uncomfortable than the subject of his granddaughter dating.
“To whom?”
“Lucas Wheeler.” Whose diamond glittered from her third finger, weighing down her hand. She’d almost forgotten the ring that morning and had had to dash back to slip it on. A happily engaged woman wouldn’t even have taken it off. “Of Wheeler Family Partners.”
“Fine family. Very good choice.” He nodded once, and she let out a breath. He hadn’t heard the rumors about Lucas and his affair with the married woman. Usually Abuelo didn’t pay attention to gossip. But nothing about this fake marriage was usual.
“I’m glad you approve.”
The antique desk clock ticked as Abuelo leaned back in his chair, his shock of white hair a stark contrast to black leather. “I’m surprised he didn’t come with you for a proper introduction.”
Lucas had insisted he should do exactly that, but she’d talked him out of it in case Abuelo didn’t buy the story she and Lucas had concocted. Everything hinged on getting over this hurdle, and she needed to handle it on her own. She owed Lucas that much.
“I wanted to tell you myself first. We’re getting married so quickly…I knew it could be viewed as impulsive, but I actually dated Lucas previously. When I started focusing on other things, we drifted apart. He never forgot me. We reunited by chance at an event last week, and it was as if we’d never been separated.”
Dios. When she and Lucas had discussed the story, it hadn’t sounded so ridiculously romantic. Since she’d never talked to Abuelo about her love life, hopefully he wouldn’t clue in on the implausibility of his granddaughter being swept off her feet.
“Other things? You mean the shelter.” Abuelo’s brows drew into a hawklike line. He didn’t like the way she’d buried herself in her mother’s passion and never missed an opportunity to harp on it, usually by telling her what her life should look like instead. “I expect you’ll now focus on your husband, as a wife should.”
Yeah, that was going to happen.
Abuelo was convinced a husband would make her forget all about the shelter and help her move past the loss of her parents. He grieved for his son and daughter-in-law by banishing them from his mind and couldn’t accept that she grieved by tirelessly pursuing her mother’s goal—a fully funded shelter with no danger of being closed due to lack of money.
Her grandfather refused to understand that the shelter provided more lasting satisfaction than a husband ever could.
“I know what’s expected of me in this marriage.”
Did she ever. She had to pretend to be in love with a man who turned her brain into a sea sponge. Still, it was worth it.
“Excellent. I’m very pleased with this union . The Wheeler fortune is well established.”
Translation—she’d managed to snag someone who wasn’t a fortune hunter, the precise reason Abuelo hadn’t tied the trust to marriage. The reminder eliminated the last trace of her guilt. If he’d shown faith in her judgment, a fake marriage could have been avoided.
“I’m pleased that you’re pleased.”
“Dulciana, I want you to be happy. I hope you understand this.”