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

Every employee at Sebastian Jewelry is gathered in the giant auditorium in our L.A. headquarters. Those who are in our HQ1 in McLean, Virginia are teleconferencing.

There’s nothing more thrilling than announcing that the company has not only hit every target, but exceeded it. Every department performed above expectations.

With each slide and announcement of our achievements, our people clap and whistle. Hell, I cheer, too. Sebastian Jewelry has always been a great company with an excellent reputation, its financials solid. But it wasn’t until I took over that it became the household name it is now. The company’s revenue quadrupled, and margins are higher than ever before. We’ve expanded overseas as well, although there are more markets to reach, especially in Asia. That’s one place we haven’t fully cracked yet.

One step at a time. This isn’t the time to think of strategies to enter a new market. Right now, we celebrate our wins. I’m proud at what we’ve achieved at Sebastian Jewelry, especially after Preston’s latest screwup. Everyone had to work extra to compensate, but we did it.

Hell yeah.

“It goes without saying that the company couldn’t have accomplished all this”—I gesture at the final slide behind me—“without you. Therefore, we’re announcing special bonuses for everyone.”

The cheering and clapping grow louder. I smile at the employees’ happiness. I believe in rewarding people for a job well done. And they definitely deserve this.

Even the janitors are applauding, since the bonus will go to them, too. Everyone at Sebastian Jewelry gets a slice of the pie.

I step off the podium, and the people start to disperse to grab the snacks HR prepared. My phone pings.

–Grandfather: An excellent job.

He must’ve watched the presentation. Grandmother and Mom would’ve watched it, too, if it weren’t for their annual mother-daughter trip to Europe. Unless I’m mistaken, they should be in Paris today.

Thinking about the city reminds me of the girl I met eleven years ago. Most people don’t leave much of an impression, but she did. She looked so lost and alone. And based on what she said—and left unsaid—I could piece together her situation. I despise adults who take advantage of children to validate their life choices. My own father did that, and to a certain extent Mom is the same way. But unlike that girl, I have my brothers.

Still, there was a fire in her, although it was so weak, it was ready to be extinguished. I hope she didn’t let it die. My advice and encouragement wouldn’t have been enough unless she really wanted to do something about her situation. And I’ve followed my own advice, like we’re on a team working toward the same goal of evening the scales—as if that would keep the fire in her burning. Unrealistic, of course, but sometimes the most irrational things motivate me.

Christoph hurries over. It’s difficult to miss his flaming red hair in the crowd, especially when he’s six-two. He started working as my assistant two years ago after graduating from college. Although his wide brown eyes make him look a little like a stunned child, he’s quick and understands office politics. On top of that, I appreciate all the gossip he brings me. Some executives believe employee gossip is stupid. Not me. Gossip reveals a lot about what’s in my people’s heads.

Christoph’s in a neat dress shirt, jacket and dark slacks. He tries to emulate my dress code, but that’s beyond his budget. I’m in a three-piece bespoke suit from Paris, with Sebastian Jewelry cuff links and a tie pin. A timepiece from our newly launched luxury watch division is on my wrist. The market response has been stellar.

“Why don’t you go grab something?” I say, tilting my chin in the direction of the food table. Christoph’s rail thin and always hungry.

“I will, but later. Your mother is here.”

“She is?” Why? There’s no reason for her to cut the trip short, unless there’s an emergency she and Grandmother’s highly trained and experienced assistants can’t handle—and I can’t think of anything that could be so dire. Money and influence can fix almost anything.

Is Grandmother sick?

I check my phone, but there’s no message about that. Besides, if she were sick, Mom would’ve asked me to go to a hospital instead of visiting me here.

I don’t bother to ask Christoph for details. If it’s something too complicated for Mom’s assistants to take care of, they wouldn’t tell mine.

“I moved your next meeting, so you have about an hour. She’s in the grand reception room.”

“Thanks.” This kind of quick action is why I hired him.

His gaze flicks toward Penny from finance. She’s standing around the dessert table, eyeing the spread like she can’t decide. His expression says he’d love to help her make up her mind. Or better yet, become her dessert himself.

I hide my smile at his reaction. He thinks he’s subtle, but he’s crazy about her. “Go take a break, Christoph. I’ll text if I need you.”

“Okay, thanks.” He smiles, then ambles off toward her.

The grand reception room is one of our best conference rooms. It overlooks the city—all the buildings, cars and energy, along with the San Gabriel mountains in the background when the smog isn’t too bad—but the view isn’t the only attraction.

Ivory leather seats, silver animal figurines with glittering crystal accents. A glass-top coffee table and elegant contemporary chandeliers in circular shapes. Glass cases with some of our most prized jewelry. The air has a whiff of our signature scent, which smells like buttery opulence and exclusivity without being cloying. I commissioned it when I took over the company, and now every Sebastian Jewelry location smells like luxury.

The room isn’t for holding meetings about boring business issues, but for welcoming people to Sebastian Jewelry and making them feel special. We reserve it for business partners and exceptionally important clients.

I enter the room and close the door firmly so nobody can overhear us. Mom is in an armchair, leaning against the back of the seat with a practiced casualness. Her elbows are propped on the armrests, and she hasn’t touched the steaming jasmine tea in front of her.

My mother is a carbon copy of Grandmother—the same hazel eyes, light brown hair and straight patrician nose. But unlike Grandmother, who favors pastel shades, Mom prefers to make a bolder statement. And today is no different. She’s in a scarlet dress I’ve never seen before, and it is, as usual, fashionable.

She’s crossed her legs, left over right. Her feet are in gold stilettos with heels so thin and high that they could serve as nails in a pinch, and her left foot bobs steadily.

To any casual observer, she looks calm, without a care in the world. But I know her too well. Mom always sits this way when she’s confronted with a problem she can’t handle on her own.

Shit.

But even if she weren’t flashing her tell, all the elation from the earlier town hall would’ve vanished, leaving nothing but cold dread. A long necklace made with three strings of brilliant-cut diamonds glitters around Mom’s throat, an heirloom piece she received from Grandmother after she had me. She always wears it when she wants to remind me of who and what I am—Sebastian Lasker, the dutiful son and heir apparent to Sebastian Jewelry. And she usually reminds me of that when she needs me to fix a mess my half-brother Preston made.

What the hell did he do now?

He’s never made it a secret that he resents me for kicking him out of the company after his third screwup. He can’t accept that keeping his incompetent ass on the payroll would be nothing but gross nepotism. He claimed I was being a greedy jerk who was jealous of him. Ludicrous, since it’s impossible to be jealous of somebody that inferior. He’s pissed he isn’t going to get the company, or the fortune attached to it. And without the gravy train from Sebastian Jewelry, he might actually have to get a real job—the horror!

He must’ve created a monumental fuck-up for Grandmother and Mom to cut their trip short. So. What did he do? Or did they have something to do with it? And to what purpose? They know he’s inept, even though they don’t want to acknowledge it.

I take the seat opposite Mom and put on a calm mask of my own. “What’s going on?” My voice is so steady, she’ll never know that what I really want to say is, “I’m going to murder Preston.”

“Oh, nothing. France became boring.” She smiles. “You know how it is.”

“Mom,” I say mildly. “I have a meeting soon.”

“All right.” She huffs a little. “There’s been a small incident.” Her eyes flick in my direction, then quickly drop to the tea in front of her.

“How small, exactly?”

No answer.

I force myself to be as still as possible, so I don’t betray the impatience and annoyance scraping at my nerves, while telling myself, I don’t yell at Mom. I don’t yell at Mom. I don’t yell at Mom…

She pulls her lips in briefly, and uncrosses then recrosses her legs.

I try not to sigh. “Well?”

“Darling, you know I love you—”

“Mom.”

She looks like a woman about to face a firing squad. “You’ll need to marry Lucienne Peery.”

“What?” I couldn’t be more stunned or outraged if she told me I needed to fornicate with a three-legged pig on national TV.

Lucienne Peery is the female version of my father, Ted Lasker, who apparently hasn’t ever heard of a scandal he didn’t want to emulate. The only difference is she’s from a jewelry family and he’s a movie producer. Also, she’s young and hasn’t had a chance to create seven children with seven different partners. But just give her time.

Her exploits are legendary. Men. Drugs. Parties. I don’t follow social gossip, and even I’ve heard about her numerous improprieties. I’m still not sure how she’s managed to avoid getting arrested for some of the stuff she’s done. On the other hand, she’s wealthy—the heiress to the Peery Diamonds fortune—so I suppose she has good professional and legal help. The reality is undoubtedly much worse than the gossip.

It’s vaguely disappointing. She seemed like a nice girl when I met her at her mother’s funeral seven years ago.

“It isn’t that bad. She’s a very pretty young woman. Prettier than when you last saw her,” Mom adds.

“She could be the goddess of beauty herself and I’d still say no.”

“Don’t be difficult, sweetie. You don’t have to actually do anything. Just marrying her will suffice.”

“Oh. Well. I feel so much better.” I look at the woman I love dearly. All these years, I’ve been quietly relieved over the fact that my mother isn’t insane like some of my brothers’, but now I see I have the gold medalist in crazy on my hands. “I’m seeing somebody right now.”

“That model?”

Her dismissive tone loosens my grip on my control. She can’t just show up here unannounced, demand I marry some lunatic heiress, then act like I’m being unreasonable for saying no! “Her name is Gabriella Ricci. Yes, she’s a model. And a very nice woman.”

Mom looks skeptical. “Nice enough for you to propose?”

Damn it. She knows me too well. Gabriella’s nice, but not marriage nice. Fine, I didn’t want to bring this up, but I have no choice. “Grandmother wants me to have grandchildren, and I can’t have children with a woman like Lucienne Peery.” There. Mom hates to cross Grandmother.

“Oh, sweetie.” Her tone says, Don’t hate me, I’m just a messenger. “Your grandmother has agreed to this. Actually, everyone in the family did.”

What the fuck? “You mean everyone but me.”

“Besides, I don’t think you’re contractually obligated to create babies with Lucienne, although you should check that and make sure, just in case.”

“Contractually obligated—?” It’s all I can do to not scream at my own mother. “What have you done behind my back, Mother?”

She winces a little. I only call her that when I’m really upset with her. “It’s going to help Sebastian Jewelry.” She gives me a don’t you trust me, sweetie? smile.

Bullshit. If that were the case, she wouldn’t be here with that necklace around her throat. “Then you’ll have no problem telling me all about it.”

“It’s just a little contract,” she says, after a moment to gather herself. “You know we would never leave you without legal protection.”

“Is it a prenup?” They can’t sign one of those behind my back and expect me to honor it. Fuck it. I’m litigating this whole damn mess. Nobody corners me into doing things. There’s a reason I’ve made sure to have my own damn money, funds that have nothing to do with Sebastian Jewelry or my father.

“Oh, it’s far more ironclad than some silly prenup,” Mom says with a little laugh. “Jeremiah Huxley handled it herself, and you know how she is.”

Of course I do. Jeremiah is my brother Huxley’s mom. She’s a senior partner at Huxley & Webber, and a complete sociopath when it comes to protecting her clients. She went to Harvard for both her undergraduate and JD and is known in legal circles as “the H-bomb.” “Was she our lawyer?”

“Well, no, but…”

God save me from my family. “Then we’re fuck—screwed.”

“No! We had our lawyers review it, of course. Lucienne will be handing over ten percent of the voting shares she holds at Sebastian Jewelry to her husband over a two-year period, which is to start as soon as vows are exchanged. This will cement our control over the company further, which you know we’ve always wanted.”

The muscles in my jaw tighten. Nobody asked me if I wanted to sell myself for ten percent of what she has. The ten percent is sort of a big deal, but it isn’t worth being tied to somebody like Lucienne Peery. If it’s that important, I could probably just buy the shares with my own damn money.

“She’s also giving her husband five percent of the voting shares at Peery Diamonds, which we’d love as a family.”

And nobody bothered to ask me if I’d love that, either.

“In addition, her husband will get a seat on the board of directors at Peery Diamonds.” Mom smiles like she’s expecting lavish praise. But why the hell does she think I’d want a seat on the board of Lucienne’s company? I’m already busy running Sebastian Jewelry, and I don’t give a damn about Peery Diamonds.

Mom’s smile fades as she realizes I’m not liking anything she’s said. Her tone grows desperate, her words more hurried. “The best part is, we and Peery Diamonds are going to start a highly profitable venture in Korea, and she’s handing us a fifty-five percent stake, while Peery Diamonds gets the rest. I know you’ve been trying to expand our footprint in Asia.”

“Mother, I am the CEO, not you, and I don’t need you, Grandmother or anyone else meddling and signing contracts behind my back,” I tell her in my coldest voice. I’ve never used this particular tone with her before, and she flinches.

“But we don’t have to provide any capital for the extra five percent stake!”

“Because she just wants me as her husband on top of our money.” Lucienne can keep all the profit from the fucking venture if she’ll just leave me alone.

“Don’t take it so personally, sweetie.” Mom leans forward. If she were sitting closer, she’d pat my hand. “She didn’t really want you.”

The tension in my gut eases a little. “Well then. Why didn’t you say so? Give her Preston.”

“Yes, about that…” She bites her lip. “We tried.”

“And she turned him down?” How ridiculous for her to think she can do better than Preston. Ha! She should be grateful anybody would agree to marry her scandal-laden ass at all! “Never mind. I’ll convince her he’s the one for her.”

He’s worthless when it comes to running the family business, so this is the least he can do. And I don’t care if he sits on the Peery Diamonds board. It’s Lucienne’s company, not mine, and she can deal with whatever screwups he creates. I’ll even tell her we can split the profit from the venture fifty-fifty. That’ll ramp up Preston’s desirability.

“That would be difficult. There was a, um, hiccup with the arrangements.”

“A hiccup.”

Mom expels a small sigh. “She caught him with another woman on the day they were supposed to get engaged.”

“Okay, so the timing was bad. But sex with another woman? That’s actually relatively tame.” There’s nothing he could’ve done that would be worse than her damn scandals.

“The other woman was her half-sister. Vonnie.”

Murder is too good for Preston. I’m going to rip his balls off and shove them down his throat, then kill him. “All right, he messed up. But that doesn’t mean I need to marry his former fiancée. I barely even know her!”

“Oh, that’s all right. Preston didn’t know her either when he agreed to do this seven or eight weeks ago.”

If he has no feelings for her, he must be getting something from the deal. He’s too self-centered to take one for the family without a proper reward. And I want to know what side deals they made with him. “Why did he agree to do it?” And why couldn’t he keep his dick in his pants so I wouldn’t be forced to fix this ridiculous business deal my family agreed to behind my back?

Mom presses her lips together, then finally picks up her tea and sips it. She makes a face. She doesn’t like lukewarm tea, and it’s gotta be tepid by now. Her index finger taps the rim of the cup. Her left foot bobs in an agitated rhythm.

And my own irritation and apprehension mount.

“He was getting Sebastian Jewelry for marrying Lucienne.” She speaks super-fast, like that’s going to make me miss the import of what she’s saying.

“What? Says who?”

“Well…all of us, more or less. We felt like he needed to be recognized for his sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice? How is that a sacrifice?” I didn’t pour my all into Sebastian Jewelry, only to have it yanked from me by my own damn family and that scheming heiress bitch! “He was getting a sugar mama, which is the best he can aspire to in life, since he’s too incompetent and lazy for anything else! And you know as well as I do it won’t take him a year to bankrupt Sebastian Jewelry!”

“Of course! Which is why he was going to own Sebastian Jewelry, but not run it,” Mom explains soothingly.

What the fuck? “Who was supposed to run it, then?”

“You.”

“Me?” I shout. I’m too pissed to care that I’m speaking to my mother.

“Well, yes. Everyone knows you’re the best CEO we’ve ever had.”

“You want me to work like a dog for Preston? For one, that idiot’s ego wouldn’t be able to handle it. And two, I wouldn’t be able to handle it because I just know he’d question everything I did and try to micromanage me, just to make himself feel superior.”

Mom raises a placating hand. “He’s not that bad, sweetie. And really, he has nothing. You’re already rich from all the investments you’ve made with your brothers.”

“Because I’m not stupid like him! I told him he was welcome to throw some money in with me, but he turned me down, saying he had ‘better opportunities.’ And every single one of them lost money—which, by the way, was no surprise!”

“Calm down, sweetie. You wouldn’t be this upset if we gave Sebastian Jewelry to one of your Lasker brothers.” Her tone says I’m being unfair to Preston.

“Because they aren’t morons! I’d prefer it if they got the company instead of Preston. They wouldn’t ruin it or consider it a cherry on top of their ego sundae.”

“Well, they aren’t part of the Comtoises.” She huffs. “It was fairer this way.”

“Fairer for who?” My throat hurts from my effort not to raise my already loud voice. “It certainly doesn’t seem fair to me!”

“It would be so sad to see him with nothing,” Mom pleads, her tone saying that’d be the worst possible outcome. “We just don’t want him to be destitute. And you’re so capable, Sebastian. You’d be fine without the company, but we know how much you love Sebastian Jewelry, so we didn’t want to take it from you completely.”

I’m so angry, I can’t speak. Mom refuses to understand that this isn’t about money or ego. It’s about legacy, what the company represents.

She’s too fond of Preston to see anything from my perspective. Apparently, he’s lovable—as long as you don’t have to clean up his messes, so I would never understand his charm. And I’m not the most likable person in the family, since I’ve always had to make the difficult decisions. Running a company the size of Sebastian Jewelry demands it.

My family’s assessment of me and Preston is biased. However, I’ve accepted it as something I can’t do anything about. The deal they engineered with Lucienne Peery, on the other hand… That’s a fucking betrayal, not something I ever thought I’d experience from my own damn flesh and blood.

Part of me wants to say, “Fuck it,” and walk away. Mom’s right. I already have more money than I can spend in ten lifetimes.

But Sebastian Jewelry is my baby. Mine. Given how Mom feels about Preston, if I refuse to marry Lucienne Peery, the family will simply give the company to him, with or without a connection to Lucienne. This whole contract thing is a pretext. Otherwise, the family would’ve told me everything before now.

Sebastian Jewelry doesn’t exist in a vacuum, but in a huge economic and social ecosystem. My position as its CEO isn’t about status. Ensuring that the company does well gives me a sense of pride and accomplishment. The responsibility I feel isn’t limited to my family, but extends to our suppliers and employees and their families.

Preston will never understand it. He doesn’t care what happens to our people as long as his ego gets stroked.

I’m going to have to figure out a way to punish my family for their duplicity.

“If you don’t go through with it, we don’t know what else we can do. If we can’t honor the contract, we’re obligated to give her thirty percent of the shares in Sebastian Jewelry,” Mom adds in a small voice. “All you have to do is just suck it up and marry her, and the company will be yours. That’s the condition your grandparents set.”

I want to flip the damn coffee table over. That thirty percent means the family will lose control over the company to our damned rival. Fucking Preston. Fucking backstabbing family. Fucking Lucienne Peery.

“You need to go, Mother,” I manage, even though my breathing is too uneven to hide my rage.

“Sweetie—” She stretches her hand out.

I jerk away. “Now. Please. I can’t look at you right now.”

I need to find a way to undo this ridiculous contract. I’ll be damned if I’m forced into marrying anyone, much less Lucienne Peery.