Prologue
Amiable.
Guileless.
Naïve.
Innocent.
Soft.
Malleable.
Vulnerable.
All things that made the woman sitting at a table across the room the best candidate for what he’d come to this “Singles in Business” gala looking for.
A wife.
A womb for his legitimate heir.
A convenience he could use, then set aside when she wasn’t needed.
And he would use her; she was a tool, a means to an end. A body and a brain, and little else.
He wanted nothing else from her.
She was pretty enough with her curly, shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, and big, doe-like brown eyes. Her smile was a little lopsided, and one of her incisors was crooked, but he supposed that added character to an otherwise plain face. Shewasn’t slim, not like the women he usually favored, but he didn’t mind curves in the right places. She had plump tits, wide hips, and long legs. She had enough meat on her bones that breeding her shouldn’t cause any health scares.
She spoke softly, blushed prettily, didn’t slouch or talk with her hands, and she always seemed to think before she answered, like she sincerely wanted everything she said to mean something.
Quiet. Polite. Thoughtful. And she was in perfect health—at least that’s what her medical records said.
According to the dossier his younger brother, Logan, had sent him via encrypted link on his cell, Kendra Little was twenty-five years old, a community college grad with a bachelor’s in literature, and she made her living writing children’s books. Apparently, her books were quite popular, enough that she met the applicant income threshold to even be invited to the gala, which catered to singles with at least six zeros in the bank; in order to even get aglance, you had to make over $500,000 per year. That was in median monthly income, so he laughed at that stipulation, but for a single 25-year-old community college graduate, that was Scrooge McDuck money.
The gala hostess spoke into the mic, reminding people there were hor d'oeuvres and cocktails for them to enjoy, her tone too cheery, too forced, and it grated against his already strung-taut nerves.
He fought the urge to walk the fuck out of there, but he held fast. He was too close to getting what he’d been suffering all night for. Typically, he never attended such ridiculous dog and pony shows, where people came to see, be seen, with the potential for a hook up or three. He’d gotten many invitations over the years, and he’d burned them all, but this time…he’d hesitated, his brother Adrian’s words from months before echoing in his ears.
“You work like a fucking dog, Gid. It’s a shame you can’t take it with you when you die.”
That had struck him harder than he’d ever expected, because it was true. He worked tirelessly to build the Maddox empire for him and his brothers, but his brothers now had their own empires to build. And the thought of all he’d built, poured his blood, sweat, and fucking marrow into going to someone else…someone wholly unworthy of the honor, was like acid in his veins.
He’d be damned if someone without the Maddox name got their hands on all he’d accomplished.
So…he’d accepted the invitation to the Singles in Business Gala, his singular goal: to find a wife and mother of his heir.
Honestly, he’d expected to fail; there was no one on Earth who could possibly check every box on his list of what he wanted in the future Mrs. Maddox.
But he’d been wrong.
His gaze flicked toheronce more, watching her as she spoke with the gray-haired woman beside her.
Kendra Little had no family, was raised in group homes until she turned 18, and headed to college on a scholarship provided by the state through their children and youth programs.
A text pinged from the cell in his suitcoat pocket. Retrieving it, he saw it was a message from his brother.
Speak of the Devil and he shall appear….
