Page 7 of The Temporary Bride

My father lost control of his prized McLaren F1 on the Pacific Coast Highway. The car veered off the edge and hit the shallow surf below. He was killed on impact, and no one else was injured.

That’s what the police statement—the one that was passed around to all of the major newspapers—had to say about the accident.

The papers carried obituaries lauding my father’s successes in his industry, listing his accomplishments, and speculating about the future of Thorne Enterprises.

Most of the articles contained glowing praise, but that was a cold comfort to me. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, my father was gone. I was talking to him earlier that day. How could he just be gone?

The funeral was yesterday. It was well attended by mourners in black, and it took all of my energy to remain stoic throughout the proceedings.

The will reading is scheduled for today. As I watched my father’s casket be lowered into the ground, I quietly promised myself that I would get it together before I heard his will read aloud.

I would go home. I would rest. I would clean myself up. And I would face reality.

Easier said than done.

I force myself to run my razor through the shaving cream in slow, deliberate strokes. It feels like it takes forever to finish shaving, but once I’m done and I’ve rinsed my face, I already feel slightly better about facing today. A little momentum goes a long way.

I head back into my walk-in closet to select a suit for the reading, dress myself, then step out onto the balcony of my oceanside home for a cup of morning coffee. Breathing deeply, I inhale the scent of the coffee and the briny smell of the ocean, trying to settle my mind.

When I can’t delay the inevitable any longer, I leave the house and climb into my car.

For the same reason, I rejected my driver’s offer to take me to the will reading. I need to be behind the wheel myself. I can’t be a passenger—not so soon after the crash.

The will reading is scheduled to take place at Thorne Enterprises. My father would’ve preferred it that way. His will may be dividing his assets among his next of kin, but we all know it has nothing to do with family.

He’s stipulating the future of his company. This, like everything else, is business.

That shouldn’t surprise me, nor upset me. My father was always a focused, practical man. But the twinge I feel in my gut is inevitable.

When I arrive at the building, an assistant takes me up to a conference room on the tenth floor.

Most of my brothers are already there. Reid paces up and down in front of the large windows. Gabriel is seated at the table, looking as solemn as ever, and next to him, Beckett. Only Dominic and my mother are missing.

A few of our family’s lawyers are seated opposite Gabriel and Beckett, going through files. I take a seat next to my brothers, exchanging a glance with Reid, still pacing restlessly in front of the windows.

There’s silence in the room as we wait for my mother and Dominic to arrive. None of us seem to want to talk. We haven’t been all that close since we were kids, and my father’s death certainly hasn’t brought us closer.

After what feels like an eternity, my mother and Dominic come through the door and take their seats at the table. My mother’s eyes are red-rimmed, like she was recently crying. Dominic places a gentle hand on her shoulder briefly before sitting down.

I expect the lawyers to get started, but they don’t. Confused, I turn to Beckett. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“Apparently, this isn’t everyone named in the will.” He shrugs, looking just as lost as I am. “Can’t get started until we’re all here.”

I frown. I can’t imagine who else my father would’ve named. I have no aunts or uncles, no cousins from his side of the family. Maybe it’s someone from my mother’s side.

Reid wanders over to sit down beside me. He leans in close. “How are you holding up?”

I shrug. “Not too bad, considering. You?”

He just shakes his head. Then he gestures over at Gabriel, who’s staring out the windows, his gaze glassy.

“I think this is fucking with his head,” Reid says. “He doesn’t look so good.”

Taking in my eldest brother’s distant stare and the dark circles under his eyes, I can’t help but agree.

It’s been five years since Gabriel lost his wife in a freak accident. Losing someone else in such a similar, sudden way… it can’t be good for him mentally.

Peyton isn’t in the room today. She must be with her nanny.