The Marriage Clause

EMORY

It was much cooler on the East Coast than it had been in California. Emory pulled her wrap around her shoulders as she stepped off the plane. A car was on the tarmac waiting for her, and she thanked the driver as he took her luggage. Sliding into the back, she let out a quiet sigh. She was ready to get to the hotel.

There was serious damage control to do after Silas’s entrance last night, and she needed to figure out how to attack it. What Silas had done was disgusting. Her mom’s memory and the wing’s future patients deserved better than that. She would take Bishop Industries’ check, but she didn’t want Silas anywhere near this project.

Tomorrow she’d meet Russian billionaire Alexei Petrov for breakfast and go over the plans for the charity auction. Her glossy presentation folder was in her purse, along with additional details about the new hospital wing. She’d read the information her assistant had collected on Mr. Petrov on the plane, acquainting herself with his company and the charities he aligned with.

The scenic drive to the hotel took her through the changing trees and a beautiful, small New England town. She immediately loved it. Settling back and taking in the view, she felt her tension ease for a few moments.

The hotel came into view and she smiled. It was beautiful and straight from the pre-Civil War Era. The grounds were sprawling, and the trees looked like flames with their gold-and-red leaves.

She got out of the car and tipped the driver, thanking him before being greeted by a bellboy and a doorman. They whisked her inside and led her to her room after she checked in. There was a beautiful spray of flowers in a vase and a note waiting for her.

Mrs. Bishop,

Thank you for accommodating my schedule and visiting this ugly little town. I look forward to meeting with you.

Alexei Petrov

She couldn’t help but laugh. It was impossible for anyone to think this town was ugly. It looked like it was the set of a romance movie.

She set everything out for her breakfast meeting, stalling so she didn’t have to look at her phone. She had not turned it on after the flight and was out of excuses for not checking it. She powered it on and it beeped, showing she had a text.

There was nothing he could say to erase what he had done. He’d made a fool out of her in front of the wrong people this time. It was bad enough he was fucking everything that moved without discretion, but this was on another level.

She changed into a pair of boots and a long cardigan. A glass of wine and a walk around the grounds sounded perfect. She carried her wine outside and found a bench to sit on and reflect while enjoying the crisp air. It would have been nice to have someone to talk to, but she had things on her mind anyway.

Silas had turned out to be such a disappointment. All she had wanted to do was make the year go smoothly. They could have done so much good together, even if there wasn’t anything romantic between them. They could have presented a genuine united front, but he was rude and disrespectful repeatedly.

By the time she walked back to the hotel, Silas and his behavior had thoroughly disgusted her. After taking a second glass of wine back to her room, Emory took a bath and relaxed, going over her pitch for additional funds for tomorrow.

She crawled into bed early and drifted off, sleeping soundly for the first time in months. Her phone was silenced, but the screen lit up with every text message Silas sent throughout the night.

Fifteen minutes later.

A few minutes later.

***

The next morning, Emory yawned while she deleted her messages. It was time to keep Silas Bishop out of the limelight and from further damaging her efforts. When she got home, she would ask him to stay away from the project.

She got up and got ready for her meeting with Mister Petrov, heading downstairs to meet the car he’d sent. The driver was chatty as they made their way to the restaurant, telling her about the small town as he drove. She was seriously contemplating staying a few extra days to decompress.

When she walked into the restaurant, a striking man with coal-black hair and piercing gray eyes stood up from a small, beautifully set table. He wore expensive jeans, a dress shirt open at the neck, and a dark-blue blazer that really set off his eyes. Emory’s breath caught, and she smiled at him, trying not to stare too hard.

“Mr. Petrov?” Emory asked as she stuck out her hand.

Alexei Petrov gave her a warm smile. “Mrs. Bishop, a pleasure. Thank you for meeting me so early.”

He shook her hand. His grip was firm but warm, and his Russian accent was present but not heavy. Emory blushed at his attention. Silas was handsome, but this man was gorgeous.

“Please, call me Emory.”