King's Country (Oil Kings #4) - Marie Johnston Page 0,55

is Mallory.”

“Mallory,” I greeted politely. Grams could be a bulldozer. I didn’t hold Mallory accountable for agreeing to whatever Grams had pitched. I turned to my grandmother. “You got a new assistant? Finally. After all this time.”

Grams’s gaze hardened. She didn’t suffer fools. Just herself. “Sit. We’ll talk. I already ordered.”

I yanked a chair out and sat, my arms crossed. My appetite had vanished as soon as I realized what Grams was up to. Was she going to throw women at me until my birthday? “I’m not really hungry. I have some work to finish up at home.”

“Dawson.” Her voice cracked like a whip, its purpose to force me into compliance.

I was usually the easygoing brother. Not this time. “Grams, I don’t know what you’re up to—”

“Then let me tell you.” Grams leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. She was in one of her power suits like usual. Mallory shifted, her gaze dropping to her water glass. There was a bottle of wine chilling on the table. What the hell for?

A server swept in with a smile and friendly chatter. She dropped off dinner rolls and the salads that came with whatever Grams had ordered. Her pace picked up as she left. Had she felt the frigid air in the room?

“Your birthday is soon,” Grams said as soon as we were alone again.

“I’m aware.”

“You need to get married.”

“No. I don’t.”

Grams’s eyes flared. Real concern shone in her gaze. “You can’t lose that money.”

I leaned closer to her. Mallory’s gaze was glued to me and Grams like she was watching a fistfight. “I don’t need the money.”

“Neither does Bristol.”

“Bullshit.”

Grams winced at my tone. “Dawson, don’t be crass in front of our guest.”

I smiled apologetically at Mallory. “I’m sorry you’re in this mess. Whatever Grams is offering you, I won’t agree to it.”

“I’m offering you a marriage,” said Grams.

I reared back, my horrified gaze connecting with Mallory’s. Her cheeks flamed, but she squared her shoulders. I hadn’t forgotten how much money was at stake, but I’d forgotten what a good influencer it was.

Grams put her hand on my arm. “Listen to me, Dawson. Mallory is willing to marry you, be as discreet as you want to be. Her NDA is ironclad. I will ruin her if she talks.” She ignored Mallory like the woman was a heifer being auctioned off. “Then, when you turn thirty, you two can part ways. Or you two can stay together. You never know. It might work out.”

“I’m seeing someone.”

Grams’s gaze lit, but the light went out a moment later. She’d figured out who I meant. “You don’t need to tell her.”

“What?” I shook my head. How . . . What . . . How cold was Grams? “I’m not getting married before I’m ready.”

“We both know there’s no good way to break the news to Bristol. You, and this family, look like an ass either way. We’ve betrayed her three times already. Think about it, Dawson. Marrying in secret, fulfilling the terms of your trust, then dissolving the marriage when it’s done is the only way.”

“And if Bristol found out?” I’d never do it. “Wouldn’t that be more of a betrayal? Oh, by the way, I didn’t want to tell you about this shitty thing my family did, so I got married to keep from hurting you?” I pushed away from the table and tipped my head toward Mallory. “I’m sorry your time was wasted.”

“I mean, my feelings should be hurt.” Mallory’s tone was breathless, but her eyes shone under the fluorescent lights. “But that’s really sweet. You’re, like, really dedicated to your girlfriend.”

My stomach turned. Mallory couldn’t be more than twenty-two. Probably had a lot of college debt and big dreams. And Grams had used her youthful innocence and promised her fifty million dollars to marry me.

“Dawson.” There was the crack again. Grams expected obedience.

I rose. “No. I’m not . . . This isn’t . . . you can’t interfere with my life.”

“I can and I will. I’ve always looked out for you boys. Did I bake you cherry pies or bounce you on my knee or make trinkets for you to clutter your shelves with? No. I made sure you all were set up for life. Life, Dawson. For all of you and your children, so you wouldn’t have to work like me and your grandfather, like your dad. I trusted Sarah to take care of it when I gifted her the money. I had no idea that my hard work