By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

I sit and stare at the wall ahead as the oppressive grief and sadness in the room press heavily on my shoulders.

Mom sniffles quietly next to me. But I don’t look over. I can’t.

It’s all she’s done since we got the news five days ago. She’s been inconsolable.

She’s had everyone doing everything for her, pandering to her grieving needs, but it’s like no time has passed. She’s refusing to accept the truth, and in turn, refusing to get involved with any of the arrangements.

It’s fallen to me and Miles, my older brother, who’s sitting on my other side, and Michael who’s beside him, our father’s oldest and closest friend.

Our family lawyer sits uncomfortably at my late father’s desk—no doubt the reason for Mom’s most recent breakdown—riffling through his briefcase to find the paperwork he needs.

To anyone else, he would appear unprepared and unprofessional. But to us, he’s just Richard. A man who has been a part of our lives forever. He’s reliable, trustworthy, and…a bit of a character. But he’s the best. Dad refused to work with anyone else.

He continues wasting time before glancing at his watch.

What the hell is he waiting for?

He asked for us to be here for 2 p.m., and it’s now almost 2:15.

I don’t know about them, but I’m ready to face the inevitable and get on with my life.

Should I be more cut up about my father’s unexpected death? Probably.

But I didn’t have the same kind of relationship with him that Miles or our mother did.

I am neither the woman he shared his life with nor his firstborn son. I’m not even his second-born son.

I’m his daughter.

Something he’d always been bitter about.

He may never have said the words, but they weren’t necessary with the way he looked at me. The way he spoke to me.

The only thing my birth brought to the table was the ability to bear children, but even then, they wouldn’t carry the Warner name. And something tells me that whomever I choose to spend my life with and have my children with would never have stood up to his impossibly high standards.

He expected me to be with someone of a similar wealth and social class.

Which meant he wanted to see me marry some egotistical asshole. Basically, a clone of the man he’d trained my older brother to be. I shudder at the thought.

I don’t want this life.

Sure, on the outside, everything looks great.

We’ve got the houses, the vacations, the cars, the designer clothes.

But it’s all bullshit. A shiny veneer covering up the reality.

Like my father lying through his back teeth about his health and leaving us in the lurch with this mess.

He could have warned us. Mom could have had time to come to terms with her impending life as a widow. Miles could have stepped up at work and have been ready for his sudden promotion.

But no.

The all-powerful Jonathan Warner decided that the best thing for us would be the shock of finding out he had a failing heart when it was too late.

I guess we should be grateful really, that his car was parked when he suffered the heart attack that ended his life.

If he were driving, we could be in an even worse situation right now.

I glance around the room, unwilling to see most of what’s around me. I have mixed feelings about my parents’ house. Sure, I have some great childhood memories from this place, but they’re laced with the bad ones, too. And the bad taints everything.

And nothing puts me on edge more than being in this room.

As children—hell, even as adults—we were never allowed to step foot in this room unless our presence had been requested.

It was our father’s haven. A place he came to do…everything, I guess. Mostly things I don’t have any desire to think about.

Being summoned here was bad enough. But actually stepping over the threshold and facing him, was something else entirely.

It didn’t matter how bad my crime was. It could have been that I hadn’t tidied my bedroom, or that one time I got caught trying to cheat on a math test. I always left wishing I were someone else. That I lived somewhere else.

It didn’t matter how hard I tried, how well-behaved I usually was, or if I achieved something he should have been proud of.

It was never enough.

I always left having been reminded of my place in this house, in this family. And I always resented him that little bit more than the last time.

It’s almost 2:20 when Miles’s patience finally gets the better of him. “Can we get this started?” he snaps suddenly, pushing to his feet, his chair ominously rocking back on two legs behind him before he begins pacing.

I’ve seen my big brother in some interesting states over the years. Covered in chicken pox as a kid, tripping after his first high school party, tripping when he took a bad pill at college, and completely out of his depth but desperately trying to hide it as he took his position under our father at Warner Group LTD. But I have never seen him look as stressed or as lost as he does right now.

It’s just another reason why I’m not grieving in the way that’s expected of me.

I’m not sad. I’m angry. Fucking furious that our father could be this selfish to those he was meant to love. To those who depended on him.

With my anger rising and the red haze I’ve been drifting in and out of the past few days descending upon me, the last thing I need is to be forced to sit here waiting for nothing.

We already know what Dad’s will says. Nothing Richard can read will surprise us.

It’s been set in stone for years.

Mom is taken care of. Miles gets the company, And I…get the only thing he had that I deem valuable and can finally embark on the life I truly want.

I just want this rigmarole over.

“We will commence very shortly,” Richard says, trying to placate Miles.

Our lawyer looks at my brother with a soft, empathetic smile on his face as he watches him pace back and forth.

I can only imagine the number of clients he’s had to do this for. Each one must be hard, but after a lifetime of working together, I can’t help thinking that this is even more personal than most.

But as painful as it might be for him, I doubt that’s the reason he’s avoiding starting this reading.

He’s waiting for something.

As I wrack my brain for what the hold-up could be, the door beside me is thrown open.

Dressed in a smart suit, his hair styled to perfection, with his irritatingly square jaw and piercing green eyes, Michael’s eldest son—and heir to his empire—Kingston Callahan, strides into the room as if he belongs here.

“KC?” Miles questions with a deep frown marring his brow.

My hackles rise.

Sure, Kingston and Miles might have been best friends since they were in diapers, but that doesn’t give him any right to be at such a private moment for our family.

Michael is one thing. But Kingston is very much another.

I jump to my feet as red-hot anger explodes within me, my blood boiling as it surges through my veins.

“I’m sorry, but this is a private family meeting,” I snarl, holding my head high and bracing myself for impact.

I don’t remember a time in my life when Kingston and I haven’t clashed.

Growing up, our nanny tried to tell me that it was because he was the eldest of a group of brothers and that he didn’t know how to handle a girl.

Personally, I’ve always thought it was because he’s an asshole.

My words make his shoulders widen, and it’s impossible not to notice the tick in his jaw before he turns his attention toward me.

The second his emerald eyes lock on mine, it takes every ounce of strength I have not to take a step back.

I’ve spent my life surrounded by powerful, intimidating men, but nothing ever prepared me for Kingston Callahan’s full attention.

It’s always been the same. From as early as I can remember, he’s put me on edge. And as he grew into his gangly teenage limbs and worked his way to the top of Callahan Enterprises at record speed, it only got worse.

I’m sure it’s not helped by the fact that he’s hands down the most attractive male specimen I’ve ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on.

Pretty he may be, but it will never, ever be enough to cover up the arrogant man who hides beneath the polished facade.

“Well,” he starts, his deep, rumbling voice filling the air around me and commanding the attention of everyone in the room—even his father and Richard, who are his seniors in every sense. “I guess it’s a good thing that I was invited, then.”

He moves closer to me, his eyes finally dropping from mine in favor of my body.

One of his perfectly shaped brows lifts as he takes in my outfit of choice.

“At least I dressed appropriately for the occasion,” he sneers before marching forward and stealing my chair.

Fire rages within me, my mouth opening and closing as numerous cutting retorts dance on the tip of my tongue, the lingering scent of his cologne wafting through my nose.

How dare he?

How fucking dare he stroll in here like his presence is required and then have the audacity to insult me?

He has no idea what the past five days have been like for me.

He has no idea that I spent all morning at the office, working with Judith, my father’s personal assistant, to finalize arrangements for the funeral next week. Or that I’m on my period and all I really want to do right now is curl up in the fetal position with an IV of milk chocolate being pumped into me.

“Judgmental asshole,” I mutter, unable to keep the insult to myself.

Is it the time or the place to ensure the jerk knows exactly what I think about him? No. Not at all. But I don’t give a shit.

The days of me being reprimanded in this room are over. It’s no longer a place where I bow down to men who think they’re more important just because of the appendage hanging between their thighs.

“Okay, shall we get started?” Richard asks, clapping his hands together to ensure he steals everyone’s attention.

“Is he actually meant to be here?” I ask, throwing my arm out in Kingston’s direction, although I don’t look at him. Asshole doesn’t deserve it.

“Tate,” Miles hisses. He’s no stranger to our bickering. Usually, he lets us run out of steam, but apparently today is different.

“What? He isn’t a part of this family.”

“Nor is Michael, but you didn’t complain about him being here.”

“That’s different,” I argue, turning to the man in question. “Michael isn’t–”

“Me?” Kingston pipes up with a smirk.

“Exactly,” I mutter.

“Just sit down and listen to what Dad had to say,” Miles demands, as Kingston makes himself comfortable in my chair, spreading his thighs wide, making the fabric of his pants stretch across his muscles.

I scoff, before ripping my eyes from the epitome of arrogance sitting there like he owns the fucking place and focusing on Richard.

It’s time to get this show on the road.

Laying pages out on our father’s desk, he begins reading.

As expected, the house and almost all his wealth will transfer to our mother, who continues to sob quietly throughout the whole ordeal.

Miles is to step into our father’s role as CEO of the Warner Group.

He talks about changes to other roles within the organization, but unsurprisingly, there’s no mention of my climb through the ranks.

I guess if I were being honest, there was a part of me that hoped he might just take me seriously for once and acknowledge that I am actually good at my job. But as his wishes about the future of the company come to an end, it’s clear that there is no promotion coming my way.

My heart sinks a little. It wouldn’t have made up for the years of feeling like the lesser sibling, the least important member of the family, but it might have sweetened it all a little.

Not that I have any intention of hanging around in Chicago long enough to even consider starting a new position. But the attempt to keep me here might have been nice.

I wait for my name to be mentioned, for the only thing I want from my father to be brought up. But it never is.

My heart starts to race and my palms begin to sweat.

He told me that it had my name on it. He promised me…

The room begins to spin around me as reality hits.

Was I really such an insignificant part of his life that he left me out of his will entirely?

“And that leads me to the final part,” Richard says, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Go on,” Michael says.

There’s something in his voice that makes me look over at him. I do a double take when I find a faint smirk playing on his lips.

He knows what’s coming.

I wish I could have been granted the same kind of warning, because I’m pretty sure the world being literally ripped from beneath me, would shock me less than the next words that fall from Richard’s lips.

“Tatum, as per your father’s wishes, you are to marry Kingston Callahan and finally merge the Warner and Callahan empires. Kingston and Miles are to work together to⁠—’