Resisting Mr. Rich (The Men Series Book 8)
Resisting Mr. Rich: Chapter 21

“LOGAN? IS THAT YOU?” Mum calls.

“Yep.” I walk up the hallway toward the kitchen.

I came straight to Mum and Dad’s after dropping Maddy home. Any lingering goodbyes that might have been were thwarted by her friend, Chloe, rushing out to the car the moment we pulled up, and sweeping Maddy off inside. Probably a good thing. She’s made it clear how she feels. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. Yet all I’ve been able to think about since the second I dropped her off at her apartment is when will I see her again.

To her, we’re done. We were done the moment we left Italy.

Technically, we never started. That’s what Maddy insists. She doesn’t want anyone to know something happened between us. But Drew’s been my friend for years. I can’t lie to him. And I also can’t lie to myself. Maddox Harper acts like the biggest brat most of the time with me. But she’s stormed her way under my skin these past few weeks. And as much as I know I can’t keep her, a part of me wants to. She at least owes me a conversation about that.

I need to give her a couple of days, then I’ll hunt her down if I have to. Because we have to talk about this.

If things were good with Dad, then I’d be able to talk to him about it. But walking back into their house this morning has my stomach in knots. I’d half expected him to be gone. He and Mum never fight like this. I feel it’s my fault, leaving the way I did without sorting things out first.

Mum rushes me the second I cross the threshold, pulling me into a hug. “How was your trip? How’s Maddy? Did she enjoy herself? Did you look after her?”

I hug her back. “She’s fine. I dropped her home with a suitcase full of souvenirs for Drew and her friend.”

Mum smiles as she pulls back. “Well, that’s nice.”

I lock eyes across the room with Dad. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, looking ten years older than when I left, deep lines etched in his forehead, and dark circles beneath his eyes.

“You two need to talk.” Mum purses her lips, giving him a pointed look, and he nods.

“We do, son. Sit.”

I walk over and pull a chair out, but Dad frowns, his brow wrinkling as he stands.

“What am I saying? Come here first.” He draws me into a hug, slapping his hand on my back. “I’ve missed you. You’ve done us proud, raising all those funds. I knew you would.”

“Then why’d you look like you’re off to a funeral?”

Mum looks at Dad from across the room, her face pinched. “You tell him. I’ll make us all a drink.”

I glance warily between the two. Mum’s obviously been busting his balls the entire time I’ve been gone.

“Guest room comfy?”

Dad snorts, one side of his mouth lifting. “As much as a bed of nails in purgatory can be.”

I chuckle as Mum shakes her head and turns her back on us.

Dad’s face falls as he looks at me. “I didn’t tell you everything before you left. I was hoping to replace another way, but… the project’s off, son.”

“What do you mean? I got the funding. I actually got more than we need.” Thanks to Sterling.

Dad’s eyes flick to Mum’s back, then he drops his gaze to his clasped hands on the table. “We owe billions. More than we can ever replace.”

My blood turns to ice at the finality in Dad’s voice. His bloodshot eyes meet mine.

“I made bad choices, Logan. Bad investments. And I lost.” He chokes on the last word, clearing his throat to conceal his emotion.

“What the hell are you talking about? You were only worried about Vex, not the rest of the business.”

Dad drags his hands down his face. I’ve never seen him so broken. The proud, successful businessman that is my father, is sitting in front of me with gray skin and a sickly yellow sheen to his eyes.

“I thought I invested in a sure thing. It was all a scam.”

“How much? You’ve had bad years before. This is nothing. It’s ups and downs, always has been.”

Growing up I recall times when funds were a little tighter. But Dad would move contracts around, re-negotiate terms. Find a way. The Rich’s always replace a way, he’d say.

He clears his throat. “Everything.”

My eyes slam onto Mum who’s watching us with a drained expression.

“There’s a criminal investigation going on into the guy who set it all up. But it could take years. Years that we don’t have. And then we might never get any of the money back. It’s gone, son. And everything is connected to it. I can’t afford to pay anyone as of two weeks’ time. Chances are the company will fold. I need you to be prepared. We need a miracle to tide us over until it’s sorted out or we will lose everything. The business, the houses, everything we’ve worked for.”

Dad covers his mouth with his hand, his face ashen.

“Len,” Mum encourages. “Tell him the rest.”

“There’s more? Jesus.” I lean back in my chair, running my hands through my hair as my mind races a million miles per minute. Everything. Gone.

Dad drops his hand from his mouth, deep lines etched across his forehead as he meets my eyes.

“Spencer has offered his help. He’s got access to enough funds to buy us time. To see us through while the investigation runs. I can pay the staff. Make some cutbacks. Tighten things up. But the company will survive. We’ll survive.”

“Okay.” I lean over my forearms on the table. “That’s… that’s incredibly generous of him. But it’s also a huge risk he’s taking. What’s in it for him?”

Dad glances at Mum then back at me.

“You.”

“What do you mean, me?”

“Project Vex. You own the patent, son. It’s in your name, not the company’s. If you agree to grant sole manufacturing rights to Spencer’s company, then he’ll give us the money.”

Every muscle in my body tenses. This has been a dream of mine for months, years. But if it means helping Dad, there’s no question in my mind. This is my family.

“Fine. He can have it. I’ll sign the design over to him.”

Pride shines in Dad’s eyes before he shakes his head. “It’s worthless without you. You’re the one who has the investors. People don’t just buy into an idea. They buy into people. People they trust. People who excite them. Share their vision. They came onboard to work with you.”

“Spencer wants me to go work for him and take the design with me?” I look between Dad and Mum again as a choking silence fills the room.

Dad shifts in his seat. “Spencer’s like me. We’re not getting any younger. His business is his life’s work. He wants it to continue. Be a legacy. And he needs someone who knows what they’re doing to carry it forward.” He clears his throat. “For his future generations.” He pauses as I stare at him.

Realization rains down on me like a ton of bricks.

“This is why you want me to marry Gabrielle?”

“We don’t want you to do anything,” Mum interjects, shooting daggers at my father, who drags a hand over his mouth with a deep exhale.

“If you agree to marry Gabrielle and run the business, keep it in Spencer’s family for him, then he’ll give me the money to keep us afloat. He doesn’t want to be paid back. Not as long as you stay married. He wants Gabrielle provided for. He wants another generation to pass the business onto. It’s all he’s wanted since he lost Gabrielle’s mother. A secure, comfortable future for his daughter and her children.”

“Her children?” I choke out the words. Marrying Gabrielle is one thing, but having children with someone I don’t love?

“These are his terms,” Dad continues.

“Which you won’t be agreeing to,” Mum snaps, glaring at the back of Dad’s head.

“We’ll lose everything, Viv.”

Mum presses her fingers to her lips and spins away. Her back trembles with silent sobs.

Dad looks back to me. “I know it’s not an epic love story, son. But you know Gabrielle. She’s a nice girl and you two get along. You could be happy together. Happy and successful.”

I stare at him like he’s grown a horn and told me he’s identified as a unicorn that shits candy. This is Dad. The man who fell for Mum aged seventeen without a penny to his name.

And he’s asking me to marry for money. To have kids for money.

“Gabrielle doesn’t want this. She told me. Did you ever think about that? Regardless of what your own son wants, did you think about what she might want? Being told she’s marrying some guy because of a business deal her father’s agreed. Fuck.” I stand in a rush, my chair falling over and banging loudly as it hits the floor.

“You should talk to her,” Dad says, barely able to meet my eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to. I can’t believe you’d keep this from me. What the hell, Dad.” I grab the chair and throw it back onto four legs.

I stalk across the kitchen, unable to look at my father any longer. I press a rushed kiss to Mum’s cheek.

“You okay, Mum?”

She nods, taking a deep breath through her weeping.

“I’ll call you later, okay.” My voice is soft, in direct contrast to the heated fury in my eyes as I glance at Dad. He at least has the decency to look ashamed as he stares back at me with glassy eyes.

“I’m sorry, son.”

“Yeah,” I snap. “Me too.”

Then I storm out of the house, slamming the front door behind me.

I stand from my seat as she weaves through the people to get to me. She brushes her long blonde hair away from her face as she meets my eyes and smiles. Every man in the Knightsbridge hotel bar watches her, disappointment clear on their faces when she reaches me and kisses both of my cheeks in greeting.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I forgot what a nightmare London traffic can be. Have you been waiting long?”

“It’s fine.” I brush her apology away with a smile. Truth is, I’d have waited years to see Gabrielle today. To have someone to talk to who understands. Someone as baffled as me at this entire situation.

“What would you like to drink?” I signal the bartender as she takes the seat next to me.

“Something strong.”

“Hell, me too.” I order two Aunt Iris’s gins on the rocks for us.

“You look good,” Gabrielle assesses me.

I smile and say thank you. But I feel… nothing. No spark of attraction. No flare of temper because she’s pushing my buttons. No spike of heartrate because she makes it race. No pulse in my dick because just hearing her voice makes it throb. None of the things I’ve been feeling these past few weeks in Italy.

Nothing.

“So do you,” I reply sincerely.

Gabrielle is beautiful and smart. I admire her for chasing her dreams of being a doctor when Spencer made no secret of the fact he wanted her to work in the family business with him. But despite what Dad thinks, attraction doesn’t always come from knowing someone for years. Not with Gabrielle, anyway.

I thank the bartender and take a large mouthful before memories of hazel eyes, dark curls, and hips that are the perfect size for me to grip onto flood my brain.

Now isn’t the time to think of her. Shit’s complicated enough until I wade through this mess that Dad’s gotten us all into.

“How’s it been? Being back?”

Gabrielle tilts her head with a smile, her eyes sparkling. “Well, I’m used to performing surgeries in a makeshift tent in the middle of disaster zones, so navigating the London traffic with a taxi driver who wanted to share his life story with me was a little different to my usual day.”

“I bet.”

“It’s nice to be home, though… To see Dad.” Her gaze drops to her glass. “I told him I was coming home to stay even though a part of me didn’t truly believe it. But now I’ve seen him…” She blinks a few times, lifting the glass to her mouth and taking a mouthful. “I’m not leaving him, Logan. I can’t be that selfish again. I’ve done a lot of thinking since I came back.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiles sadly, pinched lines at the corners of her eyes appearing.

“After Mum died, I volunteered for the UN. I needed to get away. There were too many memories here.”

“You were grieving. It makes sense you needed fresh surroundings.”

“But I left Dad. He was grieving too, but I could only think about myself. Self-preservation.” She sighs. “I couldn’t stand to be reminded of her everywhere I looked. I left him to grieve alone. What kind of daughter does that?”

I place my hand over hers on the top of the bar. “One who was dealing with her own grief. You said it yourself, there were too many memories. You did what you needed to. He’ll understand.”

She places her other hand on top of mine so she’s holding it between both of hers. “I can’t leave him again. Not when he needs me.” She strokes my hand in hers, her brow furrowing as she looks at it. “He’s sick, Logan.” Her eyes flick to mine, shining with unshed tears. “Maybe he hoped I wouldn’t see it. But I’m a doctor, after all.” She blinks rapidly, drawing in a slow breath.

“Sick?” Nausea balls inside my gut.

“I need to talk to him about it. But every time I try, he changes the subject. Changes it onto you.” She continues to stroke my hand in hers. “You know he thinks us getting married is the answer to everything?”

“No wonder he and my dad are friends. They’ve both gone mad.”

Gabrielle laughs softly, and I try to smile, but something heavy is pulling down inside my chest making breathing difficult, that way when your instincts are telling you to prepare. Because shit is about to hit the fan.

“I don’t want to hurt him again. Everything he’s worked for his entire life, his company, it means everything to him. Just like it does to your dad. We can make them both happy. I can make it up to him for leaving him. I can be the daughter he deserves.” She looks up at me and all I can do is swallow as she furrows her brow and continues to stroke my hand.

“You don’t want to marry me, Gabrielle.”

I need to say it out loud. Because, fuck, whatever is happening here cannot be real. She was as adamant as me when I called her from Italy. She laughed about how ludicrous our dads were being. We both did.

“Are you in love?” Her question catches me off guard and I stare at her as she studies me, looking deep into my eyes. “Logan, are you—?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“If you love someone else, then it’s out of the question.” She bites her bottom lip, her eyes shining with desperation. “But if you’re not, then…”

“Then what?” I slide my hand away gently and Gabrielle picks up her glass and takes another sip.

“We know each other. We like each other. It could work.” She lifts her shoulders, her lips pulling into a twisted line, the crease in her brow deepening as she thinks. “People marry for family reasons all the time.”

My eyes almost pop out of my head. I force myself to take a slow, deep breath as I lean back in my seat. My heart fires into palpitations against my ribs.

“Your father is dangling a lifeline in front of mine and using you and I as fucking pawns in his game. That’s the reason,” I hiss. “He’s told my dad if we divorce, he’ll want all the money back with an insane amount of interest. Dad could never pay it.”

Gabrielle’s throat quivers as she swallows. “You’re right. He is. But he’s dying, Logan. And this is his way of doing what he thinks is best for me. He wants me to be secure. His business is doing well. And if you come and bring Vex with you, it’ll thrive.”

“Then why doesn’t he just ask for a merger? Fuck, I’d do it to help my dad. You know I would.” I shake my head, huffing out an angry breath despite my heart clenching with sympathy for her.

“Dad knows contracts are easily broken. Companies are sold all the time. He’s hoping if you and I marry and have a family that….” Gabrielle looks at the ceiling before bringing her eyes back to mine. “He’s hoping I’ll not be alone when he dies. It’s worried him ever since Mum…” She swallows, unable to finish her sentence.

“Jesus.”

I rest my elbows on the bar and drop my head into my hands, tension spreading through my shoulders until I no longer feel like I can even move. I’m frozen in place. Bound by the constraints of other people’s wishes and desires being forced upon me.

“I’m not sure how long he has.” Her voice cracks. “But the prescriptions I’ve found in the house and the way his hands shake when he thinks I’m not looking…”

She fixes her eyes on mine, driving her point home.

“You’re willing to sacrifice your future for your dying father’s warped idealistic dream?”

“He just wants to see me happy, Logan. It’s what dads want for their kids, isn’t it?”

I think about Drew and his dad, sourness creeping over my tongue.

“What about what you want, what makes you happy?”

“I owe him this. And maybe we could, I don’t know, be married but have our own freedoms too.” She glances at me as my eyebrows shoot up my forehead.

“I’m not a fucking cheat.” I lower my voice as heads around the bar turn our way. “If we’re married, then there’s no one else. I’m not messing around behind my wife’s back.”

Gabrielle’s face softens like my answer comforts her. “So there’s not, then?”

“Not what?”

“A girlfriend… Someone you love that you’d be giving up?”

My mouth drops open. “I-I don’t have a girlfriend.”

She lets out her held breath, nodding slowly. “Good. Because I couldn’t even consider doing this if there was. I can’t do that to you.”

“You actually want to do this?” Even as I say the words, a voice inside my head is screaming at me to run. Run and never look back. Or to start hitting things. To just fuck shit up and deal with the consequences later.

“I want to make Dad happy. I want to be a better daughter.” Gabrielle looks deep into my eyes, and the sickening sense of what I now recognize as dread grows in my gut. Because shining in her eyes is something I never expected to see.

Hope.

She’s fucking hoping I will agree to it.

“I never thought you would… I need to think. God, I—”

“It’s okay.” She stands suddenly and wraps her arms around me, her hair pressing against my cheek. “It’s a lot. I get it. I only just started coming round to the idea myself.” She moves back, but stays close, her face hovering in front of mine. “Think about it. We’ll make our fathers happy. We could be a good team.”

Before I can process what’s happening, she presses her lips to mine and kisses me. I sit stunned, not kissing her back, but not pushing her away either.

When she moves back, the earlier hope in her eyes has exploded into a raving parade, dancing with possibilities as she licks her lips. I still can’t move as she presses another kiss to my lips, then gathers up her purse.

“I’ll speak to you soon.”

She lets her hand linger on my shoulder like a lover reluctant to say goodbye. She looks at me one final time, then leaves.

My frozen limbs spring into action minutes too late and I whip my head to watch her go. A man on a table nearby raises his glass. “Lucky man.”

I scowl at him. I feel far from lucky right now. I feel more like I’ve been cursed.

What the hell happened?