And Dove Penelope Caine was born.
Since we were kids, my brothers and I have taken to calling her Pigeon. When she was a little girl with pigtails, the name made her cry. Now, she just rolls her eyes.
Cue the eye roll as she moves farther into my office, her blonde hair whipping over her shoulders. She's dressed in a luxury pantsuit, looking like a professional Barbie doll.
"Don'tPigeonme," she seethes. "You don't even date. And now you're telling me you’reengaged?"She waves around a piece of paper; the draft of the press release, I assume. I sent the photos and the details over to the PR team as soon as I got them back from the photographer, but I knew that they'd show my sister before releasing.
A small smile tics up on my lips, and the moment Dove sees it, her brow furrows harder. I'm surprised they can move, considering all the Botox. That's a family secret, though. To the world, it's amazing how gracefully my mother and sister age, all thanks to Celestia's signature line of skincare products!
"You don't know anything about my personal life."
"Please, you, the prodigal and celibate son?" She scoffs. "You haven't dated anyone since high school."
I snort at her descriptions of me. She only calls me celibate because I’ve never brought a woman home, but Dove knows I get laid. In her mind, I’m a manwhore who fucks the innocent women of New York City but never gives them a chance at a relationship.
"You're doing this to fuck with me." She crosses her arms over her chest, rage simmering in her eyes. "You're mad that I'm getting married first, and I'll meet all of Dad's requirements. You really want to be CEO that badly, Big Brother, that you'd fuck me over to get it."
I blow out a long breath. "Geez, Pigeon. You think so little of me?"
She's right.
I'll meet all the requirements and be CEO before she even walks down the aisle.
I do love my little sister, as much as I’m able to, with the way we were raised. I’d like to think, if push came to shove, I’d trust her with my life. But my father has done an excellent job of making trust scarce between us.
Our father is a manipulative bastard who's been pitting us against each other since childhood. As children, we were told that only one of the four could inherit his company. The one thing he loves more than anything else in the world, including us.
But in order to do so, he requires master’s degrees from an Ivy, five years in a leadership role at the company, and finally,marriage.
We all thought my oldest brother, Gabe, would be the one to inherit the throne. He was the first to get his bachelor’s. Then he got his MBA from Columbia while working for my dad. Three years working for the company, and then one morning, his corner office sat empty.
And then there's Wren, my baby brother, who graduated business school, took his inheritance, and opened a sex club. The kind of move that makes Father’s temple vein throb and sends Mother reaching for her meditation crystals.
That leaves Dove and I circling each other like sharks in the race for CEO.
Dove has already checked off the degrees, and she's on year three of working at the company. She spent time training under the master manipulator that is our head of marketing and PR before Dad handed her the Chief Strategy Officer title last year. She's two years and a husband away from the possibility of taking the job I've been working for my entire life.
And the massive diamond catching light on her ring finger means she's been a step closer on that front, until now.
Nash Rutherford, the Ken doll of a man who my sister calls a fiancé, dropped to one knee over the summer. He orchestrated the whole production. A giant party at the Hamptons house, with all of Dove's friends and family, a photographer positioned perfectly for the society pages. Watching her beam at that ring was the moment I realized she was closing the gap onmydream.
So I made a plan:Find a fucking wife.It wasn't going well. That is, until a pretty little waitress spilt her drink on me and a new idea popped into my head.
I don't need anactualmarriage. Just one on paper.
"How long have you even been dating? Are you sure it's a good idea to bring her to the lion’s den?" She means my parents.
"Yep," I answer without hesitation. Even so, she must sense my doubt.
"That's a bold move." Dove drops into the chair on the other side of my desk, her blue eyes assessing me. "She might not make it out alive." Her tone is ominous, but we both know it's not that my parents will murder her. It's just that they'llgrill her. No one gets into the Caine family without a thorough background check and the approval of Leonard Caine himself.
"Thanks for the concern, Sis, but she'll be just fine."
She throws up her hands. "Whatever. I just hope you know what you’re doing.” Standing from the chair with a huff, she leaves my office without another glance. Just like any other day. We’ve never been siblings who hug or tell each other we love one another.
I lean back in my chair, tension knotting between my shoulders. Dove's right. My father will dissect Grace like a specimen under a microscope. And my mother will be quick to judge everything about her.
I need to prepare her, and quickly.
