The Professional Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book Three (7 page)

“There are a lot of things I could do with that money—good things. I’m just ... I majored in facilities management at the community college. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to understand all that legal stuff.”

Amber pressed her finger to her lips, then said, “You don’t have to be a financial genius to run this company. You just need to have people who know what they’re doing at your side.”

Rym shook his head. Relying on someone else’s expertise was unacceptable. “I’m used to going solo.”

“That’s not a luxury you can afford anymore.”

“It wasn’t a luxury, it was a necessity.”

“What do you mean?”

They cleared the guard station and Sven waved. Rym waved back and started up the switchback road that led to Grandpa’s house. “Grandpa left me everything when he died, but I rarely saw him when he was alive. My dad was a drunk and Grandpa disowned him shortly after I was born.”

“I’m sorry. Pamela told me you were estranged, but she didn’t say why.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m not whining about my life; I just want you to understand that I was alone a lot as a kid. Mom worked like crazy, and I hated the idea of disappointing her like my dad did. Dad was gone or sleeping, so I learned to take care of myself, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”

Amber’s mahogany eyes filled with sympathy. “You don’t have to do it alone now. Maybe that’s why your grandpa wanted you to have a wife. He gave specific orders about the type of woman he wanted for you.”

“Maybe.” Rym glanced in the rearview mirror. “Look, I’ll admit you helped out back there. But you’ve got to keep your nose out of the resort stuff.”

Amber blinked several times. “The
resort stuff
, as you call it, is the whole reason I’m here.”

Rym shook his head. “You may know about money, but by the way you’re shivering, I’m willing to bet you know nothing about skiing, ski resorts, or how to run them.”

Amber took a breath and held it for several seconds. Rym glanced over to see her eyes slowly close and open again. “You’re right,” she said. “I don’t ski. But that doesn’t mean I can’t run a business, and in the end, Iron Mountain is a business.”

That was exactly the thing Rym was worried about. Amber was no different than the investors nipping at his heals to take over the place. “You’re wrong.” Rym bit out. “It’s a family.”

Amber didn’t push, and Rym was surprised she let it go. Wasn’t she going to “coach” him out of this too? She didn’t shrink into the coat and she didn’t turn away. She just watched him with those big brown gypsy eyes for a moment before turning to look out the windshield.

Rym put his arm up on the steering wheel and leaned toward his door. He’d had his say and he was glad he got it out there. But the fact that Amber hadn’t agreed to stay out of things didn’t escape his notice and left him with a pit in his stomach.

Chapter 6

As he pulled into the stamped concrete driveway, Rym noticed a red BMW in front of the garage. “There’s Mr. McGraw,” he said, breaking the silence between them. He hadn’t felt any animosity from Amber mixed in with the quiet. However, since she didn’t commit to leaving him alone, there was a weighted feeling. He may have won that battle, but Amber had just signed on for a year of marriage to Rym, and he suspected she was the type to choose not only her battles, but the battlefield as well.

“Who?” asked Amber.

“Grandpa’s, and I guess
my
lawyer. He’s a good guy.”

Rym parked under the carriage roof that separated the house and the garage. From this angle, the house wasn’t much bigger than the garage, but Rym knew there was more to it than first met the eye.

Mr. McGraw and Rym shook hands, and then Rym introduced Amber.

“Ah, the infamous bride. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Amber’s smile was genuine and Rym couldn’t see a trace of the tension between them in her body. She moved with grace, not shy or held back, but not brazen either.

Her poise left Rym unsettled. How could she be so calm when her world was changing as much as his? She was about to walk into a home she would share with a stranger for a year, and she appeared as calm as a meadow covered in freshly fallen snow. When the sun hit the snow in the mornings, it sparkled, just like Amber’s eyes. 

Holding out a set of keys, Mr. McGraw asked, “Would you like to open your home?”

Amber motioned to Rym. “You should do the honors.”

Rym took the keys and made his way to the front door. When the heavy wood swung open, they were greeted with a breathtaking view of the ski resort behind the property and the valley below. Rym shook his head as he stepped inside. So close to his grandpa and so far away … for so many years.

Amber followed, and Mr. McGraw came in and shut the door behind them. The entry level had a formal feel to it. There was a grand sitting room with a wall of windows making the most of the view, a bar, and a hallway.

“That leads to the private wing.”

“The what?” asked Amber.

“The private wing.” Mr. McGraw smiled, obviously enjoying showing off the home even though it wasn’t his. “Let’s go take a look.”

They walked through the sitting room and into what should have been a hallway, but it had windows. Amber stopped to look. “We’re pretty high up. What’s down there?”

“It’s a ravine. It’s quite beautiful when the snow melts,” said Mr. McGraw.

They neared the end of the bridge/hall/viewing area and came to a set of French doors that were also locked. Mr. McGraw pointed to the key in Rym’s hand, and he unlocked the door to a stunning home. Rym hadn’t paid much attention to the layout of the house or the architecture when he’d come to see Grandpa. That day, he’d only had eyes for the patriarch.

Today was a whole different situation. This was the home he would live in and share with Amber, for the next year at least. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

One wall was made up of windows just like the grand sitting room, but the adjacent wall had a huge rustic fireplace in the center. The mantle had to be eight feet long and a foot and a half thick.

“Down there is the master suite and a couple other bedrooms.” Mr. McGraw pointed. “The kitchen is just around the corner.”

Amber and Rym both leaned forward. The kitchen was beautiful. It had stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, hardwood floors, and a huge sink.

“I thought this was under construction,” Amber said.

Mr. McGraw grimaced. “Not this half of the home. When he was diagnosed, Michael rushed to finish this area and left the rest. It’s livable, but it should be taken care of as soon as possible, or the homeowners’ association will be breathing down your neck.”

“Okay.”

“I put together a packet of information for you so you can familiarize yourself with the place, the CC&Rs and whatnot. I’ll go get it out of the car.” Mr. McGraw shut the door as he left.

Rym cringed. Another set of papers he wouldn’t understand. There were mountains of lingo people bantered back and forth like he should know what they were talking about. They forgot that he wasn’t raised in this environment; he didn’t go to private schools, live in gated communities, or take tennis lessons. He whispered across the room to Amber like they were sharing information in class. “What’s a CC&R?”

“Codes, covenants, and restrictions set forth by the homeowners’ association.” Amber ran her hand over the countertop.

Of course Amber understood exactly what the abbreviation meant. Even though she’d given him the spelled-out version, he wasn’t sure why it was necessary to have them to move into his grandpa’s house.

Rym dropped to the couch and rubbed at his beard. “I’m in over my head.” A company, an inheritance, inflated bank fees, covenants and something or other, and a
wife
! This wasn’t him. He was comfortable in his dinky old apartment, not in some mansion on a hill. Who was he kidding? The same feeling of claustrophobia that had grabbed on to him outside City Hall slithered its cold tentacles around his chest. He sucked in air like a man drowning, because he was. He was drowning in Grandpa’s expectations. “I can’t even understand what it takes to move into this house. How am I going to take over Grandpa’s company?” He sank as far as the overstuffed leather couch would let him.

Amber sat next to him and waited until he looked at her. “One day at a time.” She lowered her voice and spoke with a calm Rym wished he possessed. “Are you going to mess up? Yeah, you will. Everybody messes up. We’ll get through it.”

Rym caught the word “we” and held onto it like a lifeline. He’d planned to go solo on this, but it was obvious he couldn’t do that. But
Amber
? Her California sun-kissed skin and wispy clothing had no place in Park City in the winter. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m still not convinced you can do this any better than I can. You don’t even know how to ski.”

“Then teach me.”

Rym gave her a wry smile. “One spouse should never teach the other how to ski—it breaks up marriages.”

Amber scrunched up her nose. “We aren’t a typical couple. I think we’ll be fine. Besides, it’s obvious you love it, and I
want
to learn.”

Rym had his doubts. Not about teaching Amber to ski—he’d taught women over sixty how to fly down the slopes. He doubted that she could learn to love it like he did, that it would become a part of her so that when the weather man said “storm front,” her hands would itch to grab her poles.

She must have sensed his hesitation, because she said, “I’ll make you a deal. You teach me to ski, and I’ll teach you the business side of the resort and the banking and the homeowners’ association regulations, and anything else that pops up.”

“Are you sure you can teach me all this?” He waved his hand around, indicating the huge house but meaning so much more.

“Yes. I’m sure.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “It’s what I do.”

His eyes flicked to the ring on her finger. She was a career wife and she had a pretty good track record. And at the moment, he figured she was his best and only shot. The future of Iron Mountain depended on him getting his feet under him and moving forward. He’d pair up with Amber, if only to get through the next year. By then, he should be ready to fly solo. “Deal.”

He held out his hand, and as Amber took it she met his gaze. It was just like at City Hall when he’d warmed her hands: he couldn’t look away from the arresting mahogany that seemed to swirl with a myriad of emotions, not all of them of pure intent.

She leaned closer, her leg brushing his. She closed her eyes, breathing in and letting out a sigh.

Rym burst from the couch and made his way to the kitchen, hoping she hadn’t noticed the way he’d leaned slightly forward before gathering his wits. Working with Amber was one thing; kissing her, no matter how tempting, would be a mistake.

***

Amber felt Rym stand up and her eyes popped open, following him as he made his way to the kitchen, looking for any sign that he’d seen her reaction to his nearness. She could have sworn he’d leaned in to kiss her. Had she misread his signals?

She ran her hand down her hair, making sure it was smooth but feeling as if she herself was all tied up in knots. Had she really just leaned in to accept a kiss that wasn’t coming? She pressed her hand to her lips, hoping she hadn’t puckered. They were so big; it would be hard to miss it if she did.

Well, if she was losing her senses, at least he was keeping it together. As he opened and closed cupboards, she took a couple of cleansing breaths.

“We’re in trouble,” he said.

You have no idea.
She cleared her throat and her head as she ran her hands down her pants to smooth out any wrinkles. “Why’s that?”

“There’s no food.”

Relieved that it was a small inconvenience, she smiled. “Then I guess we’re going grocery shopping.” She pulled out her phone and tapped open the to-do list. “We’ll finish up here. Bring in my bags and then head to the store. Did you bring your stuff over?”

“I have a bag in my trunk. I thought I could get the rest on Sunday.”

“After that, we’ll go over the groom orientation packet from Trish.”

Rym hung his head and stuck his hands in his pockets.

Tipping her head, Amber contemplated what made Rym shut down and shut her out. It happened when she fired information at him. It was her normal way of doing business, being up-front and open, and her mind ran on high speed most of the time, multitasking several scenarios and solutions at once, which could overwhelm. However, her ability to think intelligently on the fly was one reason she was successful. She put up a mental post-it note to go slow with Rym and ease him into the fast track.

Trying to smooth things over, she said, “Once we get over the first few weeks, things will lighten up.”

“I hope so,” said Rym, though he didn’t look at all convinced.

Mr. McGraw came back in, brandishing a file. “Here they are.”