My assistant, Chloe Pierce, pulled the car up to the entrance. I gently helped Jonas into the back seat.
He finally spoke, his voice a low murmur. He introduced himself only as Thorne, explaining that an accident a few months prior had temporarily impaired his vision.
Thorne?
In New York City, the Thorne family was practically royalty. Everyone who was anyone wanted to be associated with them.
And this man, who looked down on his luck and seemed unsteady on his feet, shared that name.
I studied the strong lines of his face, half-hidden behind the dark sunglasses, and said softly, "I'm Scarlett Atwood of Atwood Architectural Design. I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess today. I can hire the best doctors to treat your eyes, but on one condition: you have to agree to marry me. If you're willing, just nod."
He nodded.
No fanfare, no theatrics. It was a transaction.
I wasn't marrying him on a whim. I needed a husband. Otherwise, my mother would never stop pushing Blake on me.
"Alright then, Mr. Thorne," I said gently. "Let's go pick out a suit. We'll settle everything today."
The car merged into traffic, and I picked up my phone to call my mother.
It rang for a long time before she answered.
"What is it?"
The sheer exhaustion in my mother's voice made my heart ache.
I remembered how she had withered away in my previous life, eventually dying of a broken heart.
I clenched my fists.
"Immediately," I said firmly, "I want you to terminate all business partnerships with the Cunningham Group."
