How dare his father force him into such a situation? How dare he make him be doomed to a life with a spoiled rich wife who couldn’t care less whether he lived or died?
As swift as the anger came, guilt swept in and took control. Could he really be ranting at his deceased father?
The man he missed more and more every day? It didn’t seem…right.
But neither did marrying a woman for money.
He’d always thought that he would marry for love or not at all. Case closed.
Until now.
His father had managed to rip the case open and throw away the lid. Damn it. He scanned his memory for any other lady who’d thrown herself at him lately. Unfortunately, all he could picture was Johanna.
He had to win her over—the one woman who didn’t want him.
Was that why she fascinated him so?
Maybe… Maybe he could lay his arguments out for her to see. Would marrying him be so hard for her?
Of course not. He’d just have to make the proposition irresistible.
Eyeing the clock, he hopped out of bed and headed directly for the Ibuprofen. He’d make charts. Graphs.
Whatever type of visual crack she needed to get her to agree to marry him. Because some way, somehow, she would agree.
He wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Chapter Four
Johanna juggled three totes full of crafts supplies, a purse, and a briefcase full of homework as she left the school. All of the other teachers, including Sara, had left half an hour ago. Johanna had needed more time to put away crayons and clean all the torn papers off the floor. Not to mention the glue the kids spilled all over their desks on a daily basis.
“Johanna,” Damon called.
Johanna whirled. When she saw Damon, a tote slipped from her aching fingers. “Shit.”
Arching a brow, he bent and retrieved the fallen bag, then plucked the other two from her grasp. The brisk breeze tousled his blond hair into disarray. “Is the ‘shit’ because of me or the bag?”
She flushed. “The bag, of course.”
“Good to know. Here, I’ll show you to my car.”
She hesitated before following him. “I have work. Where are we going?”
“To my place, if that’s okay.” He clasped her shoulder, guiding her to a shiny black car.
“I really thought you would have changed your mind about—” She skidded to a halt. “Oh, God. Is that a RollsRoyce?
A Phantom?”
He gave her an odd look. “Yes. Why?”
“Why?” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She could buy a house for the amount of money he spent on a car.
“No reason.”
Damon strolled to the trunk and threw her belongings inside. A driver—an actual driver!—in a chauffeur’s hat opened the door for her, smiling politely. She scooted inside, feeling awkward and clumsy.
“Oh my God. The leather feels butter-soft. Insane.” She languished against the seat, running her fingers across the upholstery. When she glanced at Damon, she found him watching her with a heated stare. She couldn’t believe she didn’t burst into flames right then and there. “What?”
He shook his head, his jaw twitching as he averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “Nothing. I just like watching you.”
“Oh.” Warmth washed over her. No. No. She needed to knock it off. Stay cool. “You must not see a lot of women excited about leather, huh?”
“I guess not,” he answered, mouth quirking. “How was your day? Kids all healthy?”
“In kindergarten? Yeah, right.”
“How do you manage to avoid getting sick all of the time?”
She tapped her fingers on her knees. “I built up a resistance.”
“What kind of lease do you have on your place?”
She blinked. “What? Why?”
“Curiosity. Is the lease a year to year thing?”
“Yes. My lease is up in a month.” She pursed her lips.
“But I’m not moving.”
“I know,” he mumbled.
When the driver opened the door, Damon climbed out after Johanna. She held her purse strap tightly, looking up at the mansion before her. The structure towered into the sky, the front faced in deep gray granite. She’d always loved stone houses, but never dreamed she’d ever actually be able to afford one. Most houses that looked like this were—and always would be—out of her reach.
Columns reached from the top of the house to the bottom, and a chimney puffed smoke, filling the air with the welcoming aroma of woodsmoke. She closed her eyes, savoring the scent. After the stodgy-looking butler opened the door for them and took their coats, Damon grabbed her hand and led her into an office with dark wood-paneled walls.
A chart was propped up in the corner, and she stepped closer, examining the paper. “Why does this have my name on it?”
Damon cleared his throat, leading her to a seat at a giant wooden table. “I’ll get to that.”
Her eyes widened, and she lurched to her feet as the pieces slipped into place. “Don’t tell me you—”
He held out a hand. “You promised you would let me try to change your mind.”
“And I also told you it would be useless. I can’t believe you spent all this time making charts to convince me.”
“You have a lot to gain from our agreement. It would benefit you to hear me out.”
“Fine. Speak.” She crossed her legs, tapping her fingers on her knee. The picture behind him was crooked, and she fought the urge to fix it. He’d think she was crazy. Tearing her eyes from the imperfection, she focused on him.
He sighed. “So, I got a visit from my father’s solicitor. The solicitor tells me there’s another addendum to my father’s will. One that was just discovered buried beneath some subclause.”
She nodded. “What did he say?”
“He said if I don’t get married in three months, I’ll lose all of my money. All I’d have left of my father, if I fail to meet these demands, would be his title.” Damon blew out a loud breath. “He always pressured me to settle down, take a wife.
I would tease him and tell him I’d do it later, when I had the title and needed an heir. Apparently, he didn’t trust me enough to follow through.”
She clenched her fists. “Which is where you seem to think I come in. Don’t you have some nice lady back home you’re sweet on?”
Damon scoffed. “Nice lady? Those two words don’t belong in the same sentence together. Not in my world.”