Page 5 of Bride Under Contract

As an adult, Carter had continued to visit.

His grandfather, always passionate about the land, had worked with the locals to preserve and monitor the rare wildlife there. Though there were still private wings to the residence, the rest of the property provided a temporary home to visiting animal scientists and researchers, as well as offices. As his grandfather had aged, Arif had increasingly taken over the running of the estate, although Carter had never had any real desire to get involved, and there had frequently been tension between the two men.

Carter had changed at a visceral level, and while Arif seemed to understand that, he refused to accept that Carter no longer wanted his friendship.

He didn’t.

Carter did not want to think about losing another person he cared about to the jungle. Arif still took himself out there—not just as a guide, but to head search teams when some tourist got lost or a group went missing...

In truth, on his grandfather’s death a year ago, Carter’s hope had been to sever all ties to the place that had taken so much from him and still had the ability to take more.

But Wilbur Bennett’s last will and testament had attempted to put paid to that.

Carter returned to his drafting desk. These days he used a lot of computer-aided design, but that wasn’t going to cut it for this particular client. Crown Prince Sahir of Janana was battling with his father and elders to approve the rebuilding of a destroyed wing of the Janana Palace and had brought Carter on board. The last couple of years had been spent travelling to and from Janana. The work was intricate, even by Carter’s exacting standards. Aside from that it was being challenged at every stage by the king and elders who would prefer the ruins were left undisturbed.

He couldn’t quite summon his usual focus and paused for a break. Even gazing out at the Chrysler Building or the Empire State Building and admiring their architectural feats didn’t work its usual magic.

It wasn’t the demise of his latest relationship that was proving a distraction, his mind kept flicking to the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur, and how they’d been the impetus for his chosen career.

Restless, he got up and stood gazing down on Central Park, enjoying the lush green in the middle of Manhattan where he often went for a run.

Perhaps that would clear his head?

But instead, he paced the luxurious penthouse, taking full advantage of the panoramic views. It felt more like a cage than premium office space. He looked towards the Hudson River, noting that it was sparkling and blue today. Unlike many, Carter actually preferred the days when it was brown... Though never as brown as those rivers that split the island as it meandered through the jungle... And the green of Central Park was never quite...

Well, he tried not to compare.

He chose not to compare.

Carter had done all he could to move on with his life.

But then, out of the blue, Arif had called and told him what was occurring.

‘If you care, then you cannot turn your back.’

Carter had heard the emphasis on if and chosen not to address it.

He didn’t want to care.

‘Mr Bennett?’ His PA, Ms Hill, buzzed, reminding him that Jonathon Holmes, the British lawyer who dealt with Carter’s private legal affairs, was scheduled to arrive.

‘Let me know when he’s here,’ Carter said. ‘What do I have on after that?’

‘An online meeting with Prince Sahir. Do you want me to set things up in the boardroom?’

‘No.’ Carter glanced at the plans he was working on. ‘I’ll take it in here.’

Glancing down, he saw that his once crisp white shirt had been marred by a couple of hours at the drawing board, so he went to the private shower and dressing room in his office to change his shirt before the meeting. Stripping off his shirt and washing his inky hands, he paused when he caught sight of his reflection. The scar that ran straight from his hairline was pale now, but it still sliced the jet-black arch of his right eyebrow in two.

Women actually liked it.

‘How did that happen?’ any date would inevitably ask.

But Carter would brush both the question and the enquiring hand away.

He preferred not to recall that time—and there were only small glimpses—of falling from on high, the metallic taste of iron filling his mouth, how he’d known he had to stem the bleeding...

Carter turned around and, rarely for him, craned his neck to view his back in the mirror. Possibly a little pale from way too many hours spent at the drafting desk by day, though more likely way too many late nights.