Holiday Bridal Wave - Gwyn McNamee

Chapter 1

Archimedes

“Is this some kind of fucking joke?”

It has to be. There’s no way this is real.

Mother slams her palm against the table, rattling the fine china holding the Thanksgiving feast we’ve just finished eating. “Archimedes Warren! Language!”

Father just scowls at me from his position at the opposing end of the long, ornate table. One of his dark eyebrows rises slowly, a patented look that screams his displeasure. “Am I laughing? No, it’s not a joke.”

I seek out the only person who might still retain any semblance of sanity in this family. But Grandmother offers nothing but a sympathetic look from her spot across the table from me.

Oh, my God!

My hand holding the stack of papers quivers with my anger. “Did you two know about this?”

I should have expected this from Grandfather but not her. Never her. Not after the way she stood up for Artemis when he decided to leave the company. Not after she went to bat for him and Pen when Mom and Dad wanted to completely disown him for marrying her.

And to drop this on me now?

It’s Thanksgiving. Five weeks until New Year’s Eve.

Five. Weeks.

I shake the offending document toward Grandfather and then the man who sired me. “You can’t be serious about this.”

Father simply glares at me from the head of the table. “I’m dead serious, son.”

“But—” I squeeze my eyes shut and scrub my free hand over my face, “that means I can only take over as CEO if I’m married by December 31st.”

An oppressive silence settles over the room. The holidays can always be stifling with the Warrens, but this is a whole new level of soul-crushing—even for us. This is going above and beyond the typical meddling and overbearing involvement in their children’s lives. This is just…cruel.

But Father doesn’t even blink, just stares back at me with the frosty blue eyes he gave each of us. “That’s exactly what it means.”

“That’s five fucking weeks from now!”

Mother lurches to her feet, both hands smacking the table so hard, red wine sloshes over the side of her crystal glass and onto the off-white silk tablecloth. “Archimedes Leonidas Warren! You will watch your language at my table. I don’t care if you’re an adult now. I’m still your mother, and you still owe me some damn respect.”

I have to bite my tongue not to point out the fact that she just swore, too, as I crumple the trust papers into a tight ball.

Father snorts and glances at my hand. “That’s not the original, son. You can’t destroy it and expect this all to go away.”

Athena surveys everyone at the table. She’s been unusually quiet thus far, probably saving up to dish out something that will send Mom and Dad over the edge—as is typical for my little sis. “So…” she picks up her wine glass and twirls in between her fingers, “is anyone going to clue me in on what’s going on?”

I still can’t believe Mom and Dad let her drink before she’s twenty-one. Artie and I never would’ve gotten away with that. Then again, I think they’re just so sick of trying—and failing—to make her stop doing anything that they’re willing to let her practically get away with murder for fear of losing her the way they “lost” Artie.

If this isn’t the last straw in showing her the type of people Mom and Dad really are, then I don’t know what would be.

I let out a mirthless laugh and shake my head. “Well, dear sister, Mother and Father, and it seems Grandfather and Grandmother, have seen fit to amend the family trust.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Oh?”

“Yes.” I allow my gaze to linger on Grandmother again, hoping she’ll speak up against this atrocity, but it appears that despite her previous attempts to smooth things over and try to keep this family from tearing itself apart, she’s staying mute on this subject. I uncrumple the ball of paper and find the relevant paragraph. “In order to acquire and maintain the position of CEO at Warren Enterprises Worldwide, said individual must be legally married—consummated and legitimate, not just in name—which shall mean residing with his or her spouse for at least 330 days a year… Oh, and this is the best part…with the expectation of an heir within one year of said marriage. Which means, if I ever get divorced, or they find out it’s a sham, and if I don’t impregnate my loving wife almost immediately, I end up on my ass and kicked out of the