Page 3 of Bride Under Contract

‘I honestly don’t know,’ Grace admitted.

What she did know was that even if her mum didn’t always understand, for Grace it felt important to tell her mother she loved her and to say goodbye properly.

Her father had never afforded her the same courtesy.

CHAPTER ONE

‘THERE’S NOTHING FURTHER to discuss.’

Carter Bennett ended his latest brief relationship in much the same way he would abruptly terminate an unproductive meeting, or simply withdraw from what he considered a stalemate negotiation.

While he might currently be in Manhattan, the laws of the jungle had been coded into his psyche long ago.

Carter knew from bitter experience that in the jungle there were no laws—you made your own.

And now Carter had but one.

He allowed no person or place to get close.

A billionaire nomad, he had offices, properties and investments in several international locations that he moved between. As for friends—while he wouldn’t describe them as such—he had a few trusted acquaintances dotted around the globe.

But not women.

There was no proverbial little black book.

Carter never left an ex on tap or on call. Be it a casual fling or a burgeoning relationship, he always severed ties completely and did so now.

‘We’re done.’

‘You’re a cold-hearted bastard, Carter.’

‘Absolutely, I am,’ he willingly responded. ‘And that is why I made it exceptionally clear from the start that we were going nowhere.’

He glanced at the glossy magazine on his desk that had a photo of the two of them on the cover.

He couldn’t even remember the occasion.

His black hair was freshly cut, but that afforded no clue, given he had it trimmed every couple of weeks. The scar on his forehead was always visible...the suit was from his preferred London tailor... They were coming out of a theatre—but, again, that was nothing unusual. It was his preferred place to take dates.

Carter was considered a theatre buff. In truth he simply liked taking his dates there, or perhaps to the ballet or the opera. Drinks first, or a pre-performance dinner, then hours—apart from the pesky interval—without conversation.

Followed by sex.

Ironic, really, that the only photo the paparazzi had been able to find to announce their so-called engagement had Carter practically scowling. It was a stretch to say they’d even been dating, let alone about to get engaged.

‘From the word go I told you I don’t do relationships!’ Carter tersely reminded her. ‘You were the one who chose to do an interview suggesting otherwise.’

Terminating the call, he tossed the magazine into the trash.

The press on both sides of the Atlantic were having a field-day with the rumours this rather elusive bachelor was finally about to settle down.

Never.

Carter knew he was dead on the inside. There was a black void in his soul—one he knew could never be filled. Money, women, a new car, a night at the casino, a new abode...they brought a fleeting reprieve but, like a temporary crown, they were soon tarnished. As for settling down—Carter didn’t even know what those words meant. The only thing he settled were deals. The only thing he was married to was his work as an architect.

There was nothing temporary or fleeting about the structures he helped create. They were tangible, permanent...

Lasting.