Contractually Yours: An Arranged Marriage Romance (The Lasker Brothers Book 4)

Sebastian picked the wrong girl to make that wager with.

Although I didn’t tell him, I was a nationally ranked tennis player when I was in high school and college. I didn’t purse it beyond that because turning pro wasn’t the path my mom or grandfather had in mind for me. To be honest, even if they wanted me to see how far I could go, I wouldn’t have wanted to. There’s not enough time in the day to train to be a world-class athlete and run Peery Diamonds effectively.

Sebastian’s probably not too bad, but it’s easy to be good playing against people at places like Tilden Courts. Its sole criterion for membership is “Can you afford the annual dues?” If the answer’s yes, you’re in.

Speaking of which…I should cancel Roderick, Karl and Vonnie’s memberships. They joined while Mom was alive, even though they don’t play tennis or ride horses. They just want to be able to brag they’re members at Tilden. Well, they can start paying for that bragging right with their own money now.

Sebastian and I take his Phantom to the courts. The Rolls isn’t flashy, but it’s so luxurious, it’s like being inside a motorized spa. The buttery leather, the gorgeous line of the dash, and the remarkable colors—midnight blue, dark wood and a dab of deep purple with a splash of jade. The combination is unusual, but it blends well.

He maneuvers the half-million-dollar vehicle with confident expertise, and the ride is amazingly smooth. Although he looks super-hot in a suit, he’s also stunning in his short-sleeve shirt and shorts. His forearms are lean with ropey muscle. He could film himself flexing those forearms and sell it on porn sites for women. It would add another billion to his fortune.

The immaculately verdant grounds of Tilden Courts come into view. The place is always green and lush, but then, members don’t pay the fees for brown, dried-up fields.

“Meet you outside the locker rooms?” I say as I climb out.

“Fine with me.”

I give him my cocky pre-game you’re-going-down smile—in more ways than one, baby—and go into the locker room to change into tennis whites. When I come outside, Sebastian’s nowhere to be found. Guess he’s still changing…? I head to the refreshment area to grab a bottle of Gatorade, then stop in my tracks.

Preston.

I haven’t seen him since that infuriating encounter in Barcelona. I assumed he was busy being a scumbag because he never tried to get in touch. Well, not that he could, because I blocked his number. But given that the agreement I have with the Comtois family includes the ownership of Sebastian Jewelry, I thought he’d make some effort and at least write an email to plead his case.

He’s dressed to play. His racket looks like it’s never been used before. That wouldn’t surprise me. If he’s anything like the other members here, he’s a dabbler.

He stops short as he sees me. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for a match.” I make myself stand taller. Even without heels, our eyes are almost level.

He gives me a once-over and smirks. “Oh, I get it. Looking for a husband.”

I try not to snort. He doesn’t watch the news—thinks it’s boring—and his family apparently hasn’t updated him about my new status. Maybe they disowned him. Wouldn’t that be great?

He continues, “I don’t know why you waste your time like this. Look, I’m happy to let it go if you’ll just see the light and change your mind about our—”

“Don’t hold your breath.” He’s dumber than I thought, bringing up the engagement when I still can’t find enough mind bleach to erase seeing him with Vonnie.

“There you are,” comes Sebastian’s voice from behind me. “Oh, hello, Preston.”

When he stops next to me, I put my arm around his waist. “What perfect timing.” I smile up at him.

He gives me a mildly curious look, but wraps an arm around my shoulders.

See? This is what you get when you’re with a smart man. He knows the role you’d like him to play without your having to spell it out. The fact that he’s willing to play along without some prior commitment to reciprocate warms my heart. So many people want something first before doing anything for me.

Preston’s brow knits as he takes in the tableau. “You guys are together?”

I triple the wattage of my smile. “Preston, have you met my husband, Sebastian Lasker?”

“What?” His shout rings in the wide-open space. “You can’t marry him!”

“I can’t? Oh, that’s too bad.” I tighten my hold on Sebastian, pressing my side against his. “’Cause I kinda already did.” I extend my left hand, so Preston can see my gorgeous Toi et Moi ring and the wedding band.

Sebastian flashes his as well. Man, we make a great team.

Preston blinks rapidly, his eyes fixed on our hardware. Finally, he jerks his head up, his face blotchy. “Why would you want him when you could have me?”

“Seriously? Are you blind?” I ask.

“I can see well enough to know those diamonds are tiny compared to the one I was going to give you!” He points at my finger.

I drop my gaze to his crotch for a second before lifting it back up. “His is both bigger and better than yours.”

Preston looks like he just got punched in the face by Mike Tyson. Sebastian shakes against me in silent laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Preston snarls.

“You.” Sebastian lets the laugh out. “You’re third-rate comedy, but at least you’re entertaining.” He wipes tears from his eyes.

Preston turns to me. “You bitch! It’s all your fault he’s mocking me!”

Sebastian steps forward, pulling away from my arm around his waist, as the mirth melts from his face. “Watch your tone if you want to keep your teeth. Nobody talks to my wife with disrespect.”

I pat his back a few times, to let him know it isn’t necessary for him to react like this. Part of me is flattered and moved that he’s defending me, but another part feels a bit unworthy of his protection because… Well, I did force him to marry me.

Preston slashes the air with his arm. “She’s my fiancée!”

“She was. You call my wife your fiancée again, and I’ll break your face.”

“What happened to bros before hos?”

Sebastian takes another step forward, which puts him right in Preston’s face. “What part of ‘she’s my wife’ did you not understand?” Menace radiates from him. Preston’s going to get punched for real if he doesn’t quit.

“Preston, baby, are you okay? Is my sister being impossible?”

Oh, Lord. He’s still with Vonnie?

She comes toward us from the locker room, dressed to play tennis and holding a racket like it’s a medieval knight’s mace. She’s convinced she’s too good and too talented for lessons or practice. I can’t blame her entirely for that misguided belief, since so many guys lost to her on purpose to get into her panties. But shouldn’t she be self-aware enough to know something’s off? Because when it comes to matches against girls, she can only beat rank beginners.

Flashing a fake smile, she loops her arm around Preston’s and turns her hand so I can’t miss the pink diamond still on her finger.

She must really like that foul thing. Or she’s just happy she gets to keep something she thinks is mine.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

“Why wouldn’t I be here? I pay for the entire family’s membership.” I let my gaze rake her up and down.

Although her clothing looks simple, she’s decked out in ten thousand dollars’ worth of outfit, shoes and accessories, not including the diamond. What will she do when she realizes her credit card bills won’t be paid out of my account anymore? I already had my accountants cut her off. She probably doesn’t know yet, since AmEx hasn’t sent her a notice that her bills are overdue.

A petty but satisfying revenge. And still nothing compared to what I’ve had to put up with.

“Whatever.” She tosses her hair over a shoulder. “All you’ve got is money, anyway.” Then her eyes turn to Sebastian and her smile grows even more cloying. “Isn’t this your older brother, Preston?”

“Yes!” He points an accusing finger at Sebastian. “And he stole Lucie from me!”

Anger and wounded pride flash in Vonnie’s eyes before she shrugs them off. “It’s just Lucie. No big deal.”

Preston raises his racket, pointing it at Sebastian. “I challenge you to a match!” he shouts with all the gravitas of a medieval princeling demanding trial by combat. “Both of you! I’m going to show you that you made a big mistake!”

“You’re going to lose,” I say.

“No, he won’t, because I will be playing with him!” Vonnie says.

She’s delusional if she thinks she’s a net gain for her partner. On the other hand, she’s cocking her hips left and right, trying to strike the best pose in front of Sebastian. She probably thinks she can beat him like all the other boys in high school and college.

Sebastian’s gaze flicks in my direction. It says, Do you want to go for it or back down and do our match instead?

I give him a look, tilting my head at Preston and Vonnie. I’d rather lick a skunk’s butt than back away from this challenge. Wouldn’t you?

Sebastian’s eyes glow with approval. “You’re on,” he tells Preston. “Losers get on their knees and shout, ‘We are not worthy,’ ten times immediately after the match is over. Oh, and you have to genuflect as well.”

Preston gives us a superior sneer. “Better get your kneepads ready.”

Vonnie laughs. “I’ll record it so we can relive the moment forever.”